“I am talking about a moral deficit. I am talking about an empathy deficit. I am talking about an inability to recognise ourselves in one another; to understand that we are our brother’s keeper; we are our sister’s keeper.’ In his speech on Martin Luther King Day, President Obama points out the inexorable link between empathy and morality.
Obama’s speech is not merely sophisticated political rhetoric as scientific research backs up this connection. Recent publications such as Paul J. Zak’s book ‘The Moral Molecule’ and Christopher Boehm’s ‘Moral Origins’ all point out that morality binds and builds societies. Whether morality is a cultural construct or is purely biological in nature, this ‘moral advantage’ allows humans, unlike other primates, to live in large and complex societies.
Paul J. Zak’s work, published in ‘Psychology Today’ in September, 2011, further explains that an ancient molecule in the human brain – oxytocin – makes us feel empathy for others. Zak’s experiments, involving thousands of people, show conclusively that the large majority of people release oxytocin when they receive the appropriate social signals.
Some, however, are deficient in this ‘moral molecule’. This deficiency has huge implications for the state of the Maldives today.
In laymen’s terms, his argument is that the overwhelming majority of the human species is capable of compassion and empathy, but a small percentage lack the ability to put themselves in other people’s shoes. They are unable to function within the moral boundaries of normal society.
This is exactly what is happening in the Maldives. The regime is a terrifying example of how a few free-riders can highjack the lives of the many until chaos becomes the norm for everyone.
Humanity has always grappled with the concepts of good and bad. Not surprisingly, therefore, the fundamental building blocks of all religious philosophies, consist of the steps we must follow to live moral lives and avoid the temptation of evil. Philosophers, theologians and artists as varied in time and background as Socrates, Martin Luther and Arundhati Roy have filled our museums, libraries, airways and cyber-space with their interpretations of these opposing forces in a societal context.
However, within this huge explosion of concepts, some threads of commonality emerge. A moral life consistently highlights compassion, co-operation and a commitment to the well-being of others. People like Mahatma Gandhi, Nelson Mandela and Mother Teresa stand out as beacons of moral excellence.
Moral failure, however, is constantly depicted as aggressive self-interest, greed and the inability to feel for other people. Here too we are not short of examples: Stalin, Josef Mengele, and more recently Pol Pot have shown us the corrosive and horrifying effects of moral paucity, when it is fortified with political power.
The list, compiled in July this year by the United Nations Human Rights Committee on torture and ill-treatment of political prisoners under Gayoom’s regime demonstrates the social consequences of allowing Machiavellian self-interest to replace empathy and compassion which underpin the moral imperatives of a society.
The list is as long as it is terrifying; terrifying because this is carefully planned and executed violence, not the actions of someone striking back in anger in the heat of the moment. It is about ‘systematic and systemic torture,’ the report emphasises.
‘Forms of torture and ill-treatment included the use of suspension, lengthy use of stocks, being beaten with fists and bars, kicked, blindfolded, handcuffed, the dislocation of joints, breaking of bones, …being drowned or forced into the sea, being put into water tanks, being burned…being covered in sugar water or leaves to attract ants…routine sexual assault and humiliation… Many testimonies suggest the only limit to the torture and ill-treatment imposed was the imagination of whose control they were under.’
It is an indictment of our moral landscape and a hugely disturbing commentary of how cruelty and lack of empathy impacts on the lives of ordinary people.
What is generally regarded by Gayoom’s regime as ‘tactics’ to keep people submissive, is vastly different in human and social terms. It involves suffering on a scale that has not been fully documented-suffering that is endured not only by the individuals concerned, but the families of these individuals and thus Maldivian society at large.
It is extremely devastating to the nation therefore, that this violence has returned again like a repetitive cancer. The need to focus on this is all the more pressing because of the events of February 7 and the on-going atrocities of the regime.
Mariya Didi, a female activist beaten on February 8th. The Chairperson of the Maldivian Democratic Party, Reeko Moosa Manik, brutalised and hospitalised in Sri Lanka and later in Singapore for head injuries. The unwarranted destruction of Haruge, the Maldivian Democratic Party (MDP) campaign centre. People arrested in Addu, beaten and stripped in front of their families. The list, once again, is growing. The use of the baton and pepper spray against demonstrators has become a daily routine of the very people who are employed ‘to protect and serve.’
Synonymous with Gayoom’s regime, this recurring cancer in the very heart of the Maldivian society, affects the whole nation. Their belief that violence will stay contained, to be used with impunity but only by the regime, and people in civil society will simply accept it as necessary for social harmony, is as mistaken as it is dangerous. Violence dismantles all the moderating influences that hold society together, allowing the more extreme elements to play havoc in the ensuing climate of fear and instability. The recent upsurge in violent crimes in the Maldives is one of the more obvious results of such moral disorientation, but we must not dismiss the fact that there are other more insidious consequences of this failure to govern wisely and justly.
How does such a culture of violence develop? The culture ultimately comes from the top. Gayoom’s regime was and still is propped up by a culture of brutality that was developed and nurtured under his long presidency. His finely honed megalomaniac and narcissist desires, to be the feudal lord, are the major reasons behind it. He may continue to defend himself against the accusations of several hundred custodial deaths during his presidency, but the well-known litany of human right abuse, now documented by the United Nations, is not going to go away.
The return of these tactics is heralded by the reappearance of the hard men of the regime in public office; men like Abdulla Riyaz and Mohamed Nazim who are house-hold names in the Maldives, not because of their valour in protecting and serving the nation, but because of their brutality. The old ‘Star Force’ and National Security Service personnel are indeed back in business so that the rich and the elite of the society can continue to bleed the nation of its wealth, both literally and metaphorically.
Into this unholy mix is added the indifference of Mohamed Waheed Hassan; a man whose life-long desire is to be president, simply to be president, but not to lead the nation. This personal need, which he places above loyalty, compassion, love and care, is just a desire. The nation is literally bleeding and he is content to be an on-looker and let the old regime do as they see fit. The voices of his people are as remote to him as was the moon to our ancestors. His lack of empathy and commitment to his people can most fittingly be judged by the words of Coretta Scott King, the widow of Martin Luther King Jr. ‘The lack of will-power to help humanity is a sick and sinister form of violence.’
And if literature reflects the frailty of the man, surely he is in Dante’s Inferno, in a state of limbo, not strong enough or committed enough to be either in heaven or hell.
This cynical triumvirate, Gayoom with his delusions of grandeur, Riyaz and Nazim, his ruthless henchmen, and Waheed, the indifferent public face of the regime, hold the nation in their brutal hands. At the very top echelon of our society, where we the subjects look for leadership and care, compassion and empathy have been traded for greed and self-interest. Their violence, their lack of empathy for the people, and most importantly, their perversion of justice create a moral wilderness that has the power to destroy every value that we, as a nation, hold dear.
A moral vacuum grows multifariously like an aggressive cancer. As the number of political detainees increase and the streets fill with the well-rehearsed violence of some members of the Maldives Police Service (MPS) and Maldives National Defence Force (MNDF) we must realise that violence is now out in the public domain, not hidden behind walls or on heavily guarded islands, as it had been in the last thirty years. It is now bolder and more indifferent to public opinion. Violence has this ability to prosper, escalate and re-invent itself in a variety of guises as it did in Dachau and Auschwitz.
We cannot therefore assume that we know what form the violence perpetrated by the regime, will take; nor can we predict the next set of victims. Could it be those who have simply waited for things to quieten down? Regardless of our political affiliations, or the lack of it, the inescapable conclusion we must all come to is that, this is no longer a political debate. There is a vital issue of right and wrong underpinning the chaos in the Maldives.
It is important to highlight the fact that the patriarchal and oligarchical ideology of the regime has failed to withstand the liberating influences of time and technology. Social justice is no longer an academic term in the Maldives. Thousands of free thinking citizens are fully committed to making positive changes to the lives of all Maldivians; not just a selected few. The only way the regime can hold on to power is to increase their control by more and more violent means and decrease the rights of the people in whose name they govern. Those who benefit from the return of the regime cannot abrogate their moral responsibly by simply advising them ‘not to go overboard.’ This regime has to go overboard to keep their grip on power and to keep the elite of the society in the lifestyle they have become accustomed to.
We, the citizens of Maldives, are the victims of a moral deficit. We are also the victims of an empathy deficit. Violence, torture, restrictions on our basic human rights and most importantly, the failure of justice to function effectively are all part of this deficit. It is the work of a minority of the population with weapons in their hands, malice in their hearts and greed in their souls.
The ‘moral majority’- the old ‘silent majority’- is a phrase that is often bandied about in the media and day to day conversation. However, the moral, the silent majority must now take centre stage in the Maldives. It is doubtful that any international body such as the United Nations or even the Commonwealth would interfere in the internal affairs of a country to the extent that is required to make the ‘radical changes’ that the United Nations recommends. Nor is it likely that some power from providence will come to our rescue.
People with a clear sense of right and wrong, within civil society, the police and armed forces, must affect this change. It is for all citizens – the moral majority, the once silent majority – to define the moral climate we live in.
We cannot look to others to remove the growing tumour of violence perpetuated and nurtured by a handful of people who have nothing to offer to the nation other than their indifference and greed. We must act. We must make our voices heard. As Edmund Burke so aptly put it, ‘All that is required for evil to prosper is for good men to do nothing.’
Can we afford to do nothing?
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