Category: People

Histories of Maldives

by Daniel Bosley

The Maldives is barely visible on most maps. Google it. By the time you’ve focused in on the tiny islands, the rest of the world is practically invisible. This same phenomenon can be observed when looking at Maldivian history. When you get right down to the sea-level of current affairs in the archipelago, outside events seem distant and far away.

This is no doubt very useful for the many tourists who come to relax in the country’s luxury resorts. It has also been of great use to the country’s leaders, who have traditionally been able to take advantage of the lack of outside (objective) interest in the tiny nation’s history, in order to try to maintain control over citizens in the present.

Those studying the Maldives can easily lose perspective, making it hard to understand the nation’s place in alternative histories. While political leaders repeat historical claims to complete autonomy and sovereignty, economic commentators paradoxically point out how vulnerable the nation is to external shocks. But just such a perspective is needed to better understand the reality of a small nation adrift on the currents of global history.

Anyone looking into the history of the isles will soon come across two standout stories. Firstly, the Rannamari and the conversion to Islam, and secondly, the 15-year Portuguese occupation in the 16th century.

It is very difficult to obtain much factual information about much of Maldivian history, and both of these tales are lacking in detail. Yet they have been passed on from generation to generation more readily than any others. Why?

As with most histories, these tales have served a purpose for Maldivian leaders for centuries, reminding citizens that, firstly, they live in a pious Islamic nation, and secondly, that they have a proud history of independence. These creation myths are based on  varying degrees of  fact, and have undoubtedly been manipulated in order to better serve aims of rulers.

Indeed, President Abdulla Yameen just last week called upon citizens to learn lessons from the country’s ‘history’ as he continually rails against foreign ‘interference’. That he does so while inaugurating foreign funded projects and presiding over an economy kept afloat by foreign tourists suggests the lessons of history are not so straightforward.

Historical role-play

The Rannamari story is particularly interesting when studying history as it marks the socially acceptable starting point for the modern country’s story, a point from which remnants of the nation’s Buddhist origins can continue to be suppressed.

The conversion story itself has become wrapped up in the hagiographic proselytising of Abu Barakat. But while his tale has served the purposes of local leaders constructing their versions of Maldivian history, it also forms part of a wider history of Arabic trade and empire in the region. Laudable pragmatism is too often replaced by reductive jingoism.

Muslim entrepreneurs had long since established thriving communities on the west coast of India, and frequent contact with Maldivians undoubtedly made the unilateral decision of Koimala to convert the nation a lucrative one. Indeed, to smudge the reality of events by reducing the conversion to an encounter with a sea-monster does a disservice both to the king and to the powerful Ummah built upon the teachings of Mohammed.

The importance of perspective and symbolism can be seen again in the Portuguese colonisation story, which continues to form a powerful part of national identity and yet has barely left a trace in the Portuguese archives.

While the fabulous exploits of Bodu Thakurufaanu and his brothers make for a great independence story, those who use it today fail to acknowledge that both the Portuguese and the European powers that followed had little real interest in the isles beyond their strategic importance.

After the Portuguese left, the Dutch and the British were happy to accept tributes from Malé via Sri Lanka, with no desire to physically occupy an archipelago which had few resources and many mosquitoes. This is also indicated in the 80-year British protectorate agreement, which proved mutually beneficial (depending on your history). A more fitting conclusion to the history of foreign influence might be the importance of a benign patron.

Rather than it’s significance to colonial historians, the impact of RAF Gan might prove of greater interest to social historians for the transformative impact it had in Addu Atoll. As the British utilised the geographic importance of the southernmost archipelago, thousands of nearby islanders took advantage of the economic effects.

With the archipelago’s population growing by 400 percent during the Brits’ 30-year stay, the unintentional effect of the occupation was to create an economic power base to rival that of Male’ for the first time. The political effects were soon seen in the breakaway Suvadive Republic.

It can be argued that the political legacy of this social history stretches as far as the formation of the Maldivian Democratic Party and the subsequent transition to multiparty democracy. Ask a Malé person and an Adduan for the history of the British in the Maldives and you will receive two very different answers.

As the British empire faded following World War II, the Maldives attracted the attention of a newly resurgent Japan, no doubt attracted by the country’s fertile fishing grounds, drawing the archipelago into the history of postwar Japan (and its cuisine). This small role for the island nation brought social changes far greater than any introduced by the British, with the mechanisation of vessels and refrigerated ships changing Dhivehi society forever.

During the 70s the Maldives also benefitted from world-changing advances in commercial aviation, making international tourism a viable option for the newly independent nation. The arrival of the jet engine – a product of a global conflict that at the time had contributed to disease and famine in the Maldives – would later bring untold riches to the nation.

History Today

Indeed, an understanding of the Maldives’ place in broader historical trends can also lend insight into current relationships.

The Arabisation of Dhivehi society – written about at length by Xavier Romero-Frias – undoubtedly brings the Maldives into the history of the Middle East’s oil-monarchies. Saudi soft power continues to exert a huge influence in the Maldives, as generations of scholars have been trained in Wahhabi doctrine on Saudi petro-dollars.

The outside world’s interest in the exploits of Maldivian jihadis indicates the modern historical currents in which the Maldives finds itself sailing. The ongoing tension between Islam and the West (see histories of the Middle East and the US post – Cold War hegemonic moment) depicts a specific role for the island nation, with ‘radicals in paradise’ finding a predictably popular niche in western media outlets.

Due to its geographical importance, the Maldives also continues to play an important part in global political affairs, with an economically emboldened Chinese nation sending its civil engineers and its middle class tourists to the pristine isles with growing regularity. A glance back at history would suggest that Chinese interest mirrors that of the British, seeing the archipelago as a useful Plan B should their interests in Sri Lanka fail.

While the Maldives is only a small player in Chinese affairs, the middle kingdom’s influence in the Maldives looks likely to have a crucial impact on the history of Maldivian democracy, providing the diplomatic and financial outlet that President Maumoon Abdul Gayoom didn’t have when western Tsunami aid came with strings attached a decade earlier.

Just as the Maldives has always been influenced by global currents, it will continue to be affected by outside forces largely beyond its control. The opening up of Iran, the hounding of traditional global tax havens, tensions in the South China sea potentially affecting global shipping lanes, Saudi’s preoccupation with declining oil revenue and domestic reforms and, of course, climate change: any one of these historical trends could have far-reaching effects on the tiny island nation.

Wise leaders and well-informed citizens will take care to understand histories, and the Maldives’ own place within them, in order to better control its future. Anyone can create a history. It’s a trick played often by politicians to justify their actions, often to promote xenophobic isolationism and scaremongering.

But great leaders will be remembered for using the winds of global change to enhance the position of their people, rather than flounder on foreign currents.

The Maldives is a glittering pearl in the global tableau of history. By virtue of its location and relative vulnerability, it has always been a globalised nation liable to be transformed by far away events at a moment’s notice.

Understanding the Maldives’ place in wider global events can empower citizens’ to control their future instead of only providing useful narratives for leaders who would belittle the past.

Photograph: From Images of Maldives Past

Reflections on the Maldivian democracy

Maldives Sunset

by Daniel Bosley

Maldivian democracy. Democracy in the middle of the Indian Ocean. It’s unique. 360,000 people. 90,000 sq km. 187 inhabited islands. Coconuts. Coral reefs. Transmitting the desires and needs of the people to their elected officials in this environment? It’s difficult.

The features of the Maldives’ recent democratic endeavours have also been unusual in many ways. Unusual in that they have been televised and written about across the world. Unusual in that massive increases in global tourism and the age of digital media have raised the profile. For most who have read about the problems facing ‘that place that their friend went to on holiday that one time’, it is all very new.

For half of the Maldives too, the explosion of politics in the past decade must seem unprecedented after three decades of calm dictatorship (supplemented by the occasional enhanced interrogation). Those under the age of 40 will be too young to remember any similar upheavals.

Looking at the documented history of the country, it is clear many of the modern characteristics of its politics are new. Most noticeably, political violence is now endemic, compared to just a few short years ago when any act of violence would set tongues wagging in many mouths in many islands (there are reports that any angry outbursts in the past would prompt police intervention).

The answer to why these traits have occurred is probably the same as that which solves 9 out of every 10 such puzzles. Money. These days, there’s a lot more of it in the archipelago. Tourist arrival statistics now have 7 figures and resorts have 7 stars.

The stakes are higher, but is the game all that different? Are the basic problems facing Maldivian democracy new?

Foreign media accounts of the recent political turmoil are usually fairly superficial, with few even willing to look back as far as the failure to secure judicial independence post-2008 as the key to the current chapter of ‘_____ in Paradise’. Insert the words ‘judicial independence’ in there and then try and sell it; the likelihood of a successful pitch is about the same as any foreign outlet having the time or resources to look any further into the national context.

But contrary to the necessary reductivism of international coverage, many of the current traits have been seen before. The fact that the average Sultan’s reign lasted just 8 and a half years suggests that messy power transfers are not a modern phenomena. Those observing through aftermath of the country’s first written constitutions in the 1930s noted that new institutions were quickly dominated by a tiny and nepotistic elite, while a number of leaders were soon hounded out of politics (and the country) – accused of moving forward too fast for the general population.

For the lazy analyst, the above details could be copied and pasted into a text discussing recent travails, with cries of nepotism and oligarchy following the spectacular ending of President Mohamed Nasheed’s presidency, which had been deemed too liberal by another decidedly undemocratic rent-a-mob.

Additionally, the political polarisation that has split the country down the middle in the age of multi-party politics has been seen before. ‘Unique’ anecdotal cases such as the physical division of islands along party lines in recent times, can be found frequently in more historical accounts. Feuding between wards, families, and towns are frequently cited as having inspired ‘fanditha’ attacks, arson, and even a dividing trench dug across one island. Attempts in the 60s to have elected atoll chiefs were short-lived due to the local factionalism the process exacerbated.

Despite the seemingly idyllic surrounds, people in the islands have the same need as all people to create an identity by finding an ‘other’ to push against. In a country with little or no cultural, ethnic, or religious heterogeneity (and, thankfully, with little propensity for violence), it is hardly surprising that people will (ab)use politics to satisfy these human egotistical urges.

But at heart, many (particularly older) Maldivians seem to know that they are watching a reboot rather than a sequel to the political drama, and while international headlines wail about new crises, most locals roll their eyes in apathy, or let out an exasperated chuckle. Despite taking part in the soap opera – to alleviate boredom as much as anything – they know that current cast members are interchangeable. They know that most of the root causes will not suddenly disappear by simply sacking the lead actor (although using a different talent agency occasionally might be a good thing).

That a progressive young leader is transformed into a curmudgeonly despot is not a new story anywhere, and the recent transformation of VP Adheeb from a reportedly mild-mannered young man to the country’s favourite scapegoat begs more questions about the system than the individuals in it (Dr Jameel’s recent transformation may yet be attributed to amnesia…or maybe an evil twin).

Questions and answers

As the Maldives’ political landscape looks set to continue its monotonous cycle of purge and coup, it will require new thinking to redirect the political currents that traditionally move jobs, privilege, and land from one side of the island to another with each new set of leaders. It is these predictable beyfulhun monsoons that create grasping kleptocrats and dictators.

Both leaders and voters should be encouraged to think beyond short-term (corruption, political prisoners) and medium-term problems (judicial independence) to long-term (democratic consolidation, rule of law, stability) issues in order to break the country out of a pattern that is becoming too harmful to continue.

Engaging democratic citizens will not make great headlines (‘Engaging voters in Paradise’, anyone?). It is a slow process that must start with providing people adequate representation, and an ability for introspective thinking about themselves, their community and their leaders; national pride without nationalist xenophobia, loyalty without patriarchy, public service without quid pro quo.

Any journalist working in the Maldives should also aspire to assist this process, building trust and making information accessible for the analysis of the individual reader – not telling them what to think by funneling facts and manipulating the narrative.

It is at the level of political engagement that Maldivian democracy faces particular systemic problems. Many people simply don’t take political science seriously for the same reason anti-intellectualism exists in working class communities around the world; they have not been convinced of the long term effect politics has on their lives. The rapid transition from small communities of fishermen to citizens of a modern democratic nation is particularly tough for these reasons.

In order to draw people into politics and create a thriving democracy, more politicians must try to get into the heads of the people they represent (without moving the furniture about while they’re in there). Short term populism (and bribes) may win a vote, but only a long term vision of people’s wants, hopes, and needs as Maldivians will bring long term stability that leaders crave and the country needs. Indeed, with the changes the society has undergone in recent decades, such an appraisal of the nation is desperately needed.

Until people are truly engaged, blatantly illegal activity by those in office and brazen kleptocracy will not result in the groundswell of outrage many expect. Apathy is the enemy of accountability. Additionally, constantly lobbying foreigners to force through changes from the outside is a poor substitute for home-grown remedies.

A disengaged electorate is made worse by the continuing dominance of a few patriarchs, who in turn have always danced to the beat of bodu beru from Male’. Disillusionment with distant leaders is not unique to the Maldives, but the physical disconnect between Malé and the atolls has always been extreme.

The current gap between politicians and those they claim to represent, however, will not foster the type of engagement upon which a democratic culture can flourish. Presidents in the elite bubble continue to buy votes and rent crowds while convincing themselves that they are very popular (a questionable method of polling); literally dragging their supporters along rather than asking them to follow. Meanwhile, MPs occupy spaces in the Majlis, nominally with the intention of representing an island constituency, and yet few spend any time with their voters beyond the time it takes to count the ballots.

An outsider can never truly know a community as its permanent members can, and a distant member of the elite will struggle to understand the wants and needs of their electorate. The fact that every atoll in the country has its own ‘representatives’ suggests they should be represented in the embodying-their-values-and-needs-in-the-Majlis sense of the word, rather than the enjoy-your-football-field-see-you-in-5-years meaning. This unnecessary aloofness misses a vital opportunity for local leaders to articulate and to translate Maldivian democracy to their voters; to find that sweet spot between dry theorising  (sorry about that) and a man on a podium calling his opponents heretics.

Lists compiled by social scientists have included over 500 different types of democracy, but every single one them has to meaningfully involve the people in decision making (rather than as a fig leaf for oligarchy). The Maldives’ current leaders are quick to point out the unique nature of the country, and to try and mould such a place to perfectly fit western models would represent the worst type of orientalism (in Edward Said’s sense of the word).

Indeed, Maldivian democracy could well end up with it’s own unique position in academia, but without the engagement of the electorate it will remain an oxymoron. Rather than patronising patrons telling people what they want (or more often what they should be afraid of), Maldivians should be asked what they want from their democracy and given the informational tools to answer by their leaders and their media.

The new character of Maldivian politics is only adding greater urgency to older and deeper problems surrounding its democracy growth. Without asking the right questions, however, it will be hard to develop long-term answers.

About the author: Daniel Bosley is a British journalist working in the Maldives’

Photo: Daniel Bosley

Violence against women has become our culture

Thinakun-Ekeh-28Dec15

by H Abdulghafoor

Thank you Gender Advocacy Working Group (GAWG), for providing an important summary of some of the fundamental issues contributing to the prevalence of violence against women in the Maldives.

It is a social scourge of epic proportions. Not just in the Maldives but elsewhere in the world too.

Why is this happening?

The simplest one word answer is patriarchy.

That age old cultural elephant that has always remained firmly in the room!

Listen to the survivors – get the real picture

The comment to the GAWG article by reader, “Call me Samiya” is a clear account of a survivor’s experience from which every reader must learn and appreciate the complexity of the issue. It is a powerful testament to the strength of this survivor of intimate partner violence, which deserves our greatest respect. In the Maldives, research shows that 1 in 5 women who have ‘ever been in a relationship’ experienced physical and/or sexual violence by an intimate partner.

As “Call me Samiya” says, it takes great strength to disclose such painful personal experiences so publicly, even to “trusted” duty-bearers such as the relevant authorities. Sadly, survivors’ efforts are too often ignored by such duty-bearers, leading her to question from her own experience – “Who is there to help people like us?” This is an extremely valid question.

Women who try to get out of abusive marriages are made to wait years, for the court system to make a decision on their request for divorce. The authorities appear to think they can “reconcile” an abusive husband and a battered wife through an ad-hoc court facilitated “counselling” session, when divorce proceedings are initiated by a woman. The justice system does not have the capacity, including the necessary human empathy, to support such cases. The implementation of the Domestic Violence Prevention Act (DVPA-2012) is fraught with resistance from duty-bearers, due to alleged conflict of “belief”! Concern has been raised at social sector discussion forums of the refusal of some magistrates to issue Protection Orders to prevent abuse, as mandated by the DVPA-2012. How can justice be served when duty bearers can choose whether or not to apply the law based on individual whim and transient “beliefs”? Notably, the vast majority of magistrates in the Maldives are men.

When a survivor of violence shares their experience, the public has a great responsibility to listen, understand and work to ensure that relevant authorities respond appropriately to address the issue. Violence prevention and seeking redress for survivors require a collective, public effort, especially in a system as dysfunctional as ours.

What social system – what social cost?

Systemic failure is also public failure.

The case of Samiya is yet another indicator of the failures of a society and system of governance that have become so sickeningly inept and incapable to provide social protection services.

There is no room to dispute GAWG’s article.

Samiya was failed by the so-called “system” in the same way young Ibthihaal and many others before them (most we never even get to hear about?), were catastrophically failed, and allowed to suffer and die in horrific circumstances – in small communities where “everyone knows everyone”!!

Let us consider this reality.

In Samiya’s case, she leaves behind three children with a father so sick in his mind one must question his ability to be a father to any child.

In reality, these children have lost both parents at once, in unbearable circumstances.

How will they cope with this tragedy?

How will their wounds heal? Will they ever heal?

What scars will they carry for the rest of their lives because of the complete failure of the social and governance systems (described in the GAWG article) responsible for their care?

Who can they trust now?

Most importantly, will the cycle of violence be allowed to repeat, through neglect of these children who have known and experienced such horrific family violence? Research indicates that children exposed to violence are more likely to fall victim to, or become a perpetrator of violence. Studies show that exposure to violence within the family adversely affects the brain development of children, in the same way as when children are ‘directly subjected to physical violence.’

Who will help these children to overcome their trauma and become productive citizens?

What family security can they expect to enjoy in their most vulnerable and formative years?

The questions are endless.

What kind of father abuses and inflicts horrific harm on the mother and primary carer of his children?

On the other hand, how has this man become what he has become?

What has happened to him in his past that turned him into this?

Patriarchy – the elephant in the room

Certainly, socialisation into the patriarchal mind-set of the perceived dominant and “superior male” plays a pivotal role in turning men into things far removed from human. The culturally well-guarded fundamental concept of the inherent inequality of the sexes, of male superiority, breeds nothing but insecurity among men – who frequently fail to live up to the so-called “provider and protector” that society requires them to be. In short, this inequality breeds deep insecurity, which too often manifest in unspeakable horrors. Yet, it is “the system” – both social and governance – that upholds this inequality as a fundamental “norm” in the Maldives.

To mask this systemic hypocrisy of the “superior man”, Maldivians have created a society where blame is laid thickly on the victim of violence – usually the woman.

Victim-blaming is all pervasive and seriously toxic.

Her actions, her inaction, her looks, her clothes, her walk, her talk – or just about anything she does or is perceived to have done, is used to detract from the reality of the violent insanities of the “superior man” against her.

Let’s consider Samiya’s case.

She is blamed, either directly or indirectly, for being “silent” about her abuse. Even women’s NGO Hope for Women is not exempt from succumbing to the overwhelming tendency to identify the victim’s culpability in what happened to her. This begs the question about the level of effort made to understand and appreciate the situation of the victim of this horrific crime.

What do we imagine Samiya’s mental state to be when her internal organs are brutalised and bleeding? Didn’t Samiya seek medical treatment from her local hospital? Didn’t the healthcare provider advise her to seek treatment in Malé because they did not have the capacity to treat her – thereby, literally abandoning their responsibility towards her, despite her desperate situation? Doesn’t that same duty-bearer have a medical and legal responsibility, let alone a moral responsibility, to assess her condition in a manner worthy of a health-care provider and report to the authorities as required by law? By presenting herself to the local hospital, had Samiya NOT TOLD someone about her condition, through her very actions?

What exactly are we expecting Samiya to have done in her condition, while she was miserably failed by one of the most important duty bearers mandated to assist people in her situation? Are we expecting her to scream from the rooftop, when her lived reality is systemic abandonment, marginalisation and neglect?

Samiya was not silent. Duty bearers were silent on Samiya. The community was silent on Samiya.

By diverting attention to her action or inaction and directing our energies completely away from the criminal element and criminal actions responsible for this horror, isn’t society simply trying to absolve its collective guilt for being silent about the real injustice of this preventable tragedy?

It is indeed an acute lack of empathy that drives the conversation blaming the victim of violence for being “silent”. A quick read of “Call me Samiya”’s comment might help the reader to get a glimpse of the lived reality of intimate partner violence. It is ironic that in their statement in response to Samiya’s case, Hope for Women felt compelled to provide generic advice to victims of violence against remaining “silent”. Yet, they failed to acknowledge the failure of the relevant health-care provider to assist Samiya when she actively sought assistance.

Patriarchy is indeed an insidious beast.

It is the greatest curiosity that the “superior man” is exempt from accountability for his actions – for it is readily accepted that it must be the provocations of the female victim that leaves him with no control over his own criminal actions. The result is a society where the violent “superior man” roams free and operates with impunity. The question prominent in many minds would be whether the perpetrator of the crimes against Samiya will be free to re-offend at his leisure, following his brief period of remand? After all, so many others do just that, in the injustice system of the Maldives.

A further irony is that men are held up as “protectors of women” when in reality many fail so completely so frequently – resulting in the grim statistic we have, that 1 in 3 women is subjected to physical and/or sexual violence at some point in their lifetime.

What we must remember also is that this violence mainly happens in the sanctity of the home.

Much of this is perpetrated by members of the family.

Isn’t the home where every man, woman and child seek and expect to find respite, refuge and security every single day and night?

Isn’t the family, in the home, supposed to be the safest place for every man, woman and child?

Reflect and change – act on it

Samiya’s case must not be forgotten.

This case must be etched in our collective memory forever. This is a civic responsibility.

To stop such horrors from happening in our small communities, parents and teachers must reflect on their own active roles in producing the women and men of our society. They must reflect on the colour coded gender stereotypes and divisions they maintain and promote, superficially in pink and blue. At a deeper level this is used to solidify socially constructed ideas of inherent inequality between the “lesser” female and the “greater” male. This dangerous stereotype of discrimination serves to stunt the ability of children to view each other as dignified human beings of equal worth, regardless of the lottery of birth that is their sex.

Parents, teachers and society at large must stop branding their boys as the “superior man”. For inside every “superior man” is a frightened and confused human who is trapped in a social cage with a label he did not choose. A cage in which he is forced to conform to a demanding socio-cultural stereotype of high expectations and MAN-ness, under the heavy weight of which he invariably, pathetically breaks. Why would a society bring up its boy children to fail so badly in this way? As primary carers of children, why would women subscribe to such stereotypes, and bring up their sons to become violent failures against their daughters?

This culture of inequality which breeds violence has to be denounced. It has to be stopped. It must be decisively, actively and collectively rejected.

Social well-being cannot be achieved if violence against women continues to be our normative culture. In order to lift the scourge of violence against women in the Maldives, society must let go of the patriarchal myth of the “superior man” and grab hold of the real key to achieve a non-violent way of life. That key is the responsible practice of valuing and treating boys and girls equally without discrimination; valuing men and women as equal in dignity, worth and rights.

Nothing less than this reality check will do.

Because there is no such thing as the “superior man”.