Showing posts with label Syria. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Syria. Show all posts

The Power of Reality and Over Reality, Composing, 13/11/2017

Originally, I was going to write a quite little post about philosophy again tonight, probably anticipating my takeover this week at SERRC. Or maybe talking a little about Gilles Deleuze before I dive into a few ideas I dredged out of What Is Philosophy? for my next big book.

Then something happened that gave me one remarkable, inspiring thought about Syria. It has some deeper meaning as well, but I don’t feel much like getting into that right now explicitly. It started when I gave the Ghost a comp ticket to the last night of the Syria Film Festival.

He showed up pretty late and couldn’t stay too long. He left about two-thirds of the way through the longest documentary Lost in Lebanon, but saw all of One Day in Aleppo.

Skyping in Ali Alibrahim, director of One Day
in Aleppo
, at the end of SYFF 2017. My
favourite feedback about this film came from
the Ghost. He said, about that moment where
the camera crew's car was shelled, "Are you
sure that wasn't faked? It looked too real!"
The real looks so real that we can't tell if it's real.
This was the first time the Ghost had experienced real footage directly from the ground of a war zone. There is a moment in One Day in Aleppo where the car the camera crew is driving in gets caught in an explosion. They have to carry their driver out of the car because he’s been badly wounded by shrapnel.

All of these were actual events that happened, and of course the crew never stopped filming any of this, they’re professionals!

Soon after festival weekend, the SYFF crew meets up to discuss ideas for next year. I mean, we’re also patting each other on the back, and usually having a big potluck. But we’re also talking about ideas for next year.

We have plenty, too. An approach for a rebranding as we head in to our fourth year, for one. We’re generating ideas to do that, new vectors of the Syrian experience to explore. For so long, we’ve focussed on the war, which is necessary, but has its limitations.

That’s why I mentioned my friend the Ghost. After watching One Day in Aleppo, he wasn’t able to speak again until three hours later. This was exactly the effect the filmmakers wanted people to have.

Here’s the rub. As the Ghost was driving home in a state of shock, I was talking business with people, congratulating volunteers, and chatting about our final attendance numbers. I’m not about to say we’re a little desensitized, but it does show a detail that we can’t see from being too close to the machine.

We play some damn heavy shit. Now, heavy shit certainly does continue in Syria and the entire Persian, Arab, and Southern Mediterranean world. But as an artistic approach, heavy shit brings diminishing returns.

My favourite film this year included a note of hope, even if it was only symbolic. The oldest daughter of a disappeared Free Syrian Army fighter develops a new identity for herself – no longer as a revolutionary Syrian’s daughter, but as a hopeful Syrian-German. Watani: My Homeland.

A lot of the most hopeless people I saw in these films were the ones who were so pessimistic that they’d ever rebuild their country. We need to find more stories of rebuilding – whether we discover them or tell them ourselves. If only to awaken the possibility.

Cinema From the Edge of the World, A History Boy, 10/11/2017

Giving the blog a break from philosophy for a little while. I was basically wandering through some highlights of how Hannah Arendt has been informing my philosophical thinking and research for nearly a month. It’s time to move on.

Right now, I’m moving on to the Third Syria Film Festival. I’m proud to have worked on this one – I’m proud to have worked on all of them, but especially this. This year is the festival I’ve felt most in control of my tasks in marketing and promotion.

In the first year, I was freshly graduated from my communications program and didn’t have enough confidence in myself. We ended up doing a fantastic job, attracted a lot of media attention, and I did solid work coordinating reporters from several different outlets – Toronto Star, Metro News, a few local publications, and the English-language services of the two big Arab networks Al-Arabiya and Al-Jazeera.

The crew of volunteers and organizers for SYFF 2016. Some of them
aren't really with us anymore, but I'll never forget them.
Don't worry, they're not dead. They just moved on to other things.
Only one of them was stuck moving to America, poor bastard.
We even did a segment for Al-Jazeera English walking around at the Distillery District talking about the festival with Jay Abdo.

All credit to me when it came to keeping everything straight and making all the media folks happy. But I didn’t really work much magic of my own attracting all those people. The First Syria Film Festival was in November 2015. The world discovered Aylan Kurdi two months before.

The Syrian war(s) and their refugees were at the top of the news cycle for months. It captivated Canada. More than 40,000 Syrians have come to Canada as refugees – many, but not exactly a whole lot in a country of 36-million people. Why haven’t we taken in more? There’s no reason why not.

As for the film festival, we never got the same intensity of media coverage in that first year. It was a perfect storm that let us build a strong fanbase that’s been steadily growing ever since.

At the same time, I feel like I let SYFF down a little bit in its second year. I was working a pretty hectic, low-paying job and it took a lot of my energy and attention away from the public relations work for good causes that I actually enjoy doing.

This year, I could put a little more effort into our outreach and branding strategy. We haven't gotten the most media attention, but I think we’ve built our fandom deeply enough that we can get folks out during the snow tonight.

We have some beautiful stories on the screen this weekend. Get some tickets. Come down to Hot Docs and say hello. You’ll never see another set of nights quite like them.

Kill Your Idols III: Why You Love Your Country, Research Time, 09/08/2017

So things got away from me a little bit yesterday. It happens sometimes. Part of the experimental nature of the blog. I think I swung a little too fast and loose from the very abstract to the straight-up historical. Then I think I swung back again.

In 800 words. That’s what I call whiplash.

Freedom to say what you wish and turn back the most monstrous ones
with the light of truth. A society that allows you this fosters the
strongest patriotism.
Let’s talk history, and what we can learn from history. What Antonio Gramsci learned from the history that just got him thrown into prison. One more pass.

For Lenin to win out in the Russian revolution, all he needed to do was break the aristocracy. More accurately, take advantage of a breaking aristocracy.

For Gramsci to win out in an Italian revolution, he would have needed the following sectors and interest groups of his country to collapse simultaneously. 1) The aristocracy; 2) All the other political parties; 3) The business and merchant elite; 4) The social democratic trade unions; 5) The military; and the fraying of all the friendships and professional bonds across all these groups and institutions.

I should also mention that an Italian revolution would have needed to unite a drastically divergent regionalism in a country that had only been a single state for about 40 years by the time Mussolini took over.

That’s what I mean by redundancy in a society’s networks. There’s a special relationship in democratically-governed states, which gives an extra strength to those networks. Democracy.

All of popular culture – or at least enough of it to be unavoidable – gets consumed by political discussions. Party alliances, policies, philosophies, the place of your country in the world, the place of you as a citizen in your country.

We must have the right to yell. There's no more powerful human
freedom.
The process all ends with this massive public ritual of the vote – you mail your ballot or mark one at a live location, then everyone gathers around the media of their choice to watch the results. The aggregate of all those ballots actually determine who occupies important government jobs.

All those conversations about politics – both among people and from government and institutional sources – serve a major purpose. They disseminate and accustom people to the public morality of representative democracy.

It’s the most impressive way to earn legitimacy for your state institutions – actually get them involved in discussions about how those institutions should be run. In a democracy, you’re free to have conversations that let off steam in public about your frustrations with the government. As well, you feel like your ideas can contribute in some small way to how your government is run.

That’s the foundation of a powerful personal investment in your government. When you have this emotional connection to the state, you feel like you’re part of it, and it’s part of you. The state matters to you when you can participate in its work and decision processes. Even if ordinary citizens can’t do that much, just that small amount builds so much love and loyalty.

Even if you’re offering a better idea than any of the options the state has available, that loyalty is seriously difficult to overcome. Maybe even impossible. Democracies never fail when citizens feel like they can take part.

I wonder how people can accustom themselves to a police state. To me,
living in such a society feels like living with a constant, never-ending
skin infection all over my arms that caused the most horrific itching
all the time. That is how much my soul would chafe and dry out.
They’re overthrown in wars and military coups, but that’s usually a matter of force. It’s not a revolution. A revolution is a popular overthrow of the state. Do you expect a people to overcome their own love, when they really love their country?
• • •
I once met a guy who was legitimately considering working for Bashar Assad’s government. He was fascinating in some ways, but in others, he was the most boring man I’d ever seen.

Any public statement he made about political matters was an empty platitude to the value of humanitarianism. There’s no PR copy more vapid and dull than what comes out of the mouth of a dictator’s loyalists.

“Hey, man, don’t you love your country? I love my country. You should love it too.”

A friend of mine got that line from a secret police agent. Thinking about my conversations with Assad loyalists, Syrian democrats who’ve had to put up with Assad loyalists, I realized something about democracy.

By encouraging people to think about politics in deep, complicated ways, as if your decisions could effect the course of your country, you make smarter, more adaptable, loyal, enthusiastic, patriotic, and generally just plain better citizens.

The open question – Do you want your country to have citizens?

Gather Around, Composing, 17/07/2017

So I’ll get back to the walk with Milton Friedman tomorrow. Today, I want to talk about yesterday, the film shoot for our documentary. Working title is Around One Table.

Sunday, Khalil and his family met up with Nancy and her family for a big vegetarian buffet dinner in Nancy’s backyard in East York. It was a tough shoot in some ways – technical difficulties, barking dogs interrupting interviews, rain, fear of rain, some typically Canadian social awkwardness. Well, really Ontarian social awkwardness.

Not only that, but the food was pretty damn good. Conceptually,
potato soup and spiciness could never really go together. But
they did it – I could tell it involved some strategically placed
chillies. I was impressed. 
But we had some beautiful moments that I think are going to make for a fantastic film. Let me tell you about some of them.

About a month ago, we filmed an interview with Khalil and his wife Samar while they prepared an iftar dinner and sent it along to a couple they’d met earlier through the Welcome Dinners program. Samar spoke about the meal she prepared, and shared happy memories of her early married life with Khalil and childhood in Syria.

Khalil gave us a long interview in Arabic, his first language, where he’s most comfortable.* So I sat with him while my co-director Maher asked the questions, and Khalil remembered for us what it was to leave Syria.

* He told me at the shoot today that I speak beautifully, but much too fast for him to follow what I’m saying.

I don’t know all the details. But he’d mentioned to me in English earlier that this interview would tell the story of his travel down the Road of Death. There are several Roads of Death in Syria, but this is the one leading out of Homs, eventually going through Damascus and into Lebanon.

So Khalil, in Arabic, told the story of how he jammed his wife Samar and their five kids into a car and chugged along a highway pockmarked with bomb craters, whose shoulders were dotted with the burned out – and sometimes still smoking – skeletons of cars and their drivers.

Families just like his run off the road, robbed, and slaughtered, as they were fleeing the mass air war that would pummel their city.

We recorded it in closeup, because you’d have to be a fool to tell that story in wide shot.

That interview was back in June, as we were shooting some meal exchanges our Syrian participants made with their partner / host families to celebrate Ramadan.

Sunday, we talked with Nancy and Tim, the hosts for Khalil, Samar, and their kids today. Nancy told me a story that wasn’t quite as harrowing as Khalil’s worst road trip ever. But it was a shock to her.

Hey, White Supremacist. Do you want to get the fuck out of my
whimsical old-growth Canadian urban community?
So do you remember a few days after Donald Trump won the election to be President of the USA? And these posters asking white people to mobilize against multiculturalism appeared in a historic neighbourhood of Toronto in the East York borough?

Nancy teaches at a very ethnically and culturally diverse elementary school that was in the epicentre of that poster blitz. She was horrified. She ran exercises at her school to teach even the youngest children about our fundamental solidarity as humans.

She helped organize a group that distributed buttons reading “Unite Against Hate” for people to stick on their clothes and backpacks. Her neighbourhood is now covered in rainbow-coloured posters and lawn signs reading “Unite Against Hate” in English, French, and other languages like Hindi and Arabic.

It’s very easy to say that such actions don’t mean anything. But they’re communications that are constantly present in the community. They always blast the message that this is a community that stands against racism and embraces solidarity regardless of who you are, as long as you too embrace that same solidarity.

But they are also targets on every house. That same courage is at the heart of a community’s solidarity too.

Eyes Over the Table, Composing, 15/06/2017

I didn’t mean to go three days without posting, but it happened. Its unfortunate, because this is the first time in a while* that I’m fairly well ahead of my blogging in my reading.

* Don’t fucking jinx it, Riggio.

There’d be times when I’m so busy scrounging work that I’m reaching for a spare paragraph of philosophy or anything at all to read that I’m wondering what to write at the end of the day. Now sometimes, I come home too tired to write, or because I’ve been working on writing projects from clients, and directing a documentary.

Have I not mentioned that yet? I’m not even sure that I have before.

The film is called Around One Table, a story of a very straightforward idea – that dinner brings us together. At first, the idea was to make a short documentary about an organization called Syrian Welcome Dinners.

This film project has a lot of fringe benefits.
They’re a volunteer-run organization that connects newcomer families from different parts of Syria with Canadian families who are interested to get to know people from the region, and are open to helping them build their personal and professional networks in their new city.

They all meet and get to know each other over dinner. Literally, the already-Canadians invite the whole family of the new-Canadians for a meal. Our documentary will film interviews with some of the participating Canadians and the participating Syrians.

We’ll talk with the Canadians as they prepare their meals. What’s your history with this dish? Do you have any good memories associated with this meal? What are your expectations about meeting these folks? What do you want to talk about with them? Why are you taking part in this program in the first place?

Similar conversations with members of the Syrian families in the days before the dinner. What’s your story of coming to Canada? What do you remember about your life before coming here? Do you have other family members in Canada? Elsewhere in the world? In Syria?

What do you like about Canada? What have you learned about this city already? What sticks out to you? What do you expect of the welcome dinner? What do you think of a meeting program like this? Why did you sign up for this?

We’re catching up with Syrians who’ve already gone through the program as they cook an Iftar meal to bring to their former hosts.

Questions like this can tell you plenty about a lot of the joy and tragedy in life. I’m pretty sure we'll have enough for a feature-length.

To Be Incorruptible V: If You’ve No Shelter You’ll Have No Peace, Research Time, 25/04/2017

Continued from previous . . . I find a lot that’s valuable in Machiavelli. But there are limits, of course. Someone like him writing in the 1530s is in a very different historical position than someone like me writing in the 2010s.

I mean, the reasons why are obvious, of course. But I want to call attention to one reason in particular – it’s not as if there weren’t plenty of good ideas in the same tradition of materialist radical democracy in the intervening five centuries.

However much I value Machiavelli’s concept of patriotism as devotion to the public good of your community, other questions related to the nature of the community generate troubling answers. Not a reason for rejecting Machiavelli as a whole, but a reason to be careful with how his thought might influence you.

Here’s a serious problem of the 2010s that Machiavelli’s writings can’t break through – the boundaries of a community. Globally, there’s a near-universal political crisis over the nature of the border.

I draw a sword against conspirators;
When think you that the sword goes up again?
Never, till Caesar's three and thirty wounds
Be well avenged; or till another Caesar
Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors.
For decades, we’ve been troubled over the dangers that come from borders in trade, and investment fall away. The erosion of borders in these cases has encouraged explosive social problems as terrible inequalities entrench themselves.

The most intense iteration of border erosion facing the West is state attempts to control the movement of people. Most in our faces is the refugee crisis – literally millions fleeing horrifying wars and oppression across North Africa, the Middle East, and Afghanistan. Many crowd into slums and makeshift camps like the squalid tent cities at Calais.

I go to Machiavelli thinking there might be an answer to this question in his book on the strengths and safety valves of democratic society. I don’t find the answers I want. Machiavelli, living in a time of wars and invasions, sees in the movement of desperate people only more invasion, violence, and war that desperation has driven to extremes.

Most often, in his era and in the time of Republican Rome, Machiavelli encounters refugees as literal invading armies. If some natural disaster rendered a city-state unliveable, its leaders and people would invade another country’s territory and set themselves up.

War was the only response to what we’d today call a humanitarian crisis. Yet he does describe a material root of the erosion of human capacities for kindness as well as our state borders.

Returning to his golden age of Republican Rome, Machiavelli sees the root of the fear of refugees in what – during that ancient era – were the most common causes of whole cities uprooting themselves.

Resource wars. A drought would ruin a harvest, or a flood would wreck too much farmland, and a city wouldn’t have the material to support itself. All they could do was invade their neighbours and hope to plunder enough loot to sustain themselves.

A battle over scarce resources, made more scarce by massive disasters, would bring ordinarily peaceful cities into deadly conflict. Their means of survival itself was at stake. Life was inescapably fragile. Risk was great, and likely perceived to be greater in the moment.

If there isn’t enough to keep everyone alive, our peaceful ideals can all too easily be pinched into nothing. A flame between two calloused fingers.

It was a catastrophic drought in the late 2000s that drove Syria into upheaval. A time when, in a state with tight borders, there was no longer enough to keep everyone alive and prosperous.

We Will Never Not Know War, Advocate, 07/04/2017

I’m pretty isolated from war and international brinksmanship in Canada – though I still remind people that we share a border with Russia. We just never think of it because it’s the top of the map.

Bashar Assad is immensely grateful for all the support he gets from
Western progressives, as he continues to bomb his citizens to support
obedience to his police state, while they defend him as Syria's
rightful ruler and government. You know what happens when you
ignore actual Syrian people's voices? You forget that the Arab
Spring was a democratic revolution, not some false flag.
But I watched the news Thursday night of the American missile strikes on the Syrian government air base which launched this week’s sarin gas attack with dread. But it isn’t the dread that’s becoming sadly typical of the Western left.

I’m morosely accustomed to a sad equation in left-wing political debates – opposition to one leads to apologies for another. I've seen it, for example, in so many of my fellow progressives’ uncritical embrace of even the most extreme BDS propaganda.

Such fiery BDS propaganda silences and sidelines the real voices of opposition to settlement policy inside Israel itself. Worse, it lets a principled opposition to Israeli state policy in the West Bank become a vile and twisted anti-Semitism.

In the left-wing approach to United States foreign policy, a principled opposition to American military intervention and global economic policy becomes a blind enemy-of-my-enemy support of anti-American authoritarian and nationalist leaders.

I’ve seen prominent writers and some of my own friends parrot Russian propaganda on Crimea, Ukraine, and NATO, and uncritically fawn over Rodrigo Duterte’s legalization of murder in the Philippines.

Do you know what precedent President Duterte has for his drug war by legalized murder? Hafez al-Assad’s crackdown on anyone suspected of membership in the Muslim Brotherhood after their uprising against him in 1982. Plus his near-complete destruction of the city of Hama, centre of the 1982 Islamist revolution against his regime.

Former London mayor Ken Livingstone is one of the most prominent
current examples of the hypocritical progressive, a Western
politician whose support for Palestinian autonomy and sovereignty
has tipped into an oblivious hatred of Jewish people.
So when I see Trump reverse his long-held pro-Assad leanings and start bombing regime military installations, I increasingly fear that the Western left will start praising the dictator openly. Clueless TV pundits praise Trump for his “Presidential” stand protecting human rights with missiles? You’ll see much more disgusting love of police state dictators coming from the left soon.

And I say this as a leftist! As a card carrying* member of Canada’s social democratic NDP. I want the opinion leaders in the Western left to develop a complex understanding of our profoundly fucked up world. I have growing doubts that this will happen.

* If we still had cards. The New Democrats don’t have cards anymore.

An American Congressional Representative with a growing following, Hawaii’s Tulsi Gabbard, secretly visited the Syrian government and met personally with Bashar Assad. She returned to the United States witlessly parroting his propaganda that the entire democratic revolution of 2011-2 was orchestrated by al-Qaeda, ISIS, and other militant Islamist groups.

A pro-Assad left is growing in Western progressive politics, where anti-Americanism becomes the excuse to vomit his regime’s messaging without a critical thought. Now that Trump has become solidly anti-Assad, I expect this love of savage dictators to grow among his opposition.

Donald Trump may have been moved enough by children suffering
under Syrian government chemical attacks to bomb their military
installations, but he's not about to let them into the United States
as refugees. Refugees are all terrorists, don't you know?
Opposition to Donald Trump will fuel progressives’ abandoning their ideals to support a man who sits at the head of a state whose major civil service branch is a network of integrated secret police agencies. A man who arranged for horrifying Russian attacks on hospitals and bomb shelters as he pounded Aleppo to rubble. A man who authorized brutal chemical attacks this week in Idlib and four years ago in Ghouta to demonstrate the ruthlessness of his power over his population.

Gassing war refugees with sarin isn’t a military operation – it’s a policy of governance. It delivers the message to the whole population of Syria – You are mine, and I will do what I wish with you, and you are powerless to stop me; you are powerless entirely.

There are voices on the left saying the Ghouta chemical attacks never even took place. I doubt it will be long before there are apologists and conspiracists about Idlib.

It doesn’t have to be this way. Opposition to one authoritarian President and the destructive military and economic policies of one state doesn’t mean the others get a pass.

I don’t care how much someone may justify it in terms of ‘realpolitik.’ To hear anyone who calls herself a progressive spewing Henry Kissinger’s language disgusts me, and it should disgust anyone of conscience.

Staying true to your ideals means you don’t give anyone a pass. If you oppose Donald Trump, then you oppose Bashar al-Assad, Abdel Fatteh el-Sisi, King Salman, Rodrigo Duterte, Vladimir Putin, Xi Jinping, Prayut Chanocha, Shavkat Mirziyoyev, Isaias Afwerki, Yoweri Museveni, Reçep Erdogan, Nicolas Maduro, and anyone else who falls short of supporting universal democracy, freedom, and dignity.

It shouldn’t be that hard.

A Paradox – Inclusive Elites II: Entitled Segregation, Research Time, 07/11/2016

Continued from previous post . . . It's a fundamental democratic concept of democracy – the leader of your government is not your master, but your servant. It sounds counter-intuitive, but it’s something we must accept if we’re to be thorough-going democrats.

Rulers and governments serve the people. And any obedience people give to governments, we do for pragmatic reasons or out of respect for our rulers humbly submitting to our ultimate authority.

Democratic philosophy, particularly following from Rousseau, thinks
of elections as expressing the will of the people in the actions of the
representative. But too often, elections are seen as ways to legitimate
an autocratic rule of law or justify the rule of a strongman, not to
point any fingers or post any pictures.
Having to run a country always creates tensions with the core concept of democracy. You need rule of law – popular obedience to rules – for any institution to run smoothly. Including civic and welfare institutions that manifest and guard the freedom and material dignity of a democratic society.

Yet it's always very easy for people who hold power from their positions in state institutions to gain a sense of entitlement – that their expertise in running the state justifies our obedience. Most dangerously, people in such positions can feel entitled to unquestioned obedience.

This is why we put extra obligations on those who hold power through democratic state institutions, in comparison to people who hold power in private institutions like large companies.

It’s difficult to do this with bureaucracies, but it often works through transparency. Like the Sunshine List in Ontario, that lists the name and salary of everyone on a government payroll who makes more than $100,000 per year.

Now, it's much easier to put obligations on our political leaders – we elect them, forcing them to reapply for their jobs to the votes of the populace ever few years.

I want to leave aside questions of representation. Representing the will of the people has been, throughout the history of democratic theory, the primary function of elections. But the metaphysics of how the whole process works is frankly a little shaky at best.

Ultimately, an elected official is one person who must channel the wills of thousands, millions, or billions of people if this metaphysics is to make sense. Ballot boxes, parliaments, and press conferences just don’t have this kind of power.

The presumption that citizens have an obligation to obey their
governments isn't a democratic principle, accourding to Jacques
Rancière, but the justification of a police state. One powerful film I saw
at SYFF about the terror of that principle is Suleima, an animated
short that dramatized the life of a real Syrian democracy activist.
No, elections are fundamentally about reminding an elite that their jobs depend on fealty to the wishes of the people. Because elected officials are an elite. They’re party activists, who are well-connected to all these institutions, and who have achieved enough success in their private careers to be tapped by a party apparatus to run for elected office.

Elections are the most intense methods we have of keeping institutionally powerful elites from getting too drunk on power, keeping them accountable to the public. Elections are the most effective means of enforcing accountability.

In most cases, of course. At least that’s the ideal. In all too many cases, elections are just seen as rubber stamps on the power of elites. An appearance of democracy and accountability so that an elite can continue to walk all over people’s rights and freedoms.

You can have elections in a police state. Even fair elections where the governing party stands a regularly decent chance of losing. Whether or not you have a secret police, you’re living under a police state if the bureaucratic and democratic office holders expect the people who obey them. And enforce that obedience.

Working with the Syria Film Festival has introduced me to a lot of good friends who have the real, lived experience of having grown up in a full-on police state. So while I’ve studied for a while that dynamic of enforced obedience in the abstract, my friendships over the last two years has taught me a lot about its visceral life.

Reading thinkers like Rancière, Mouffe, and Negri has given me a thicker understand of what democracy and freedom are fundamentally about – the relationship of power between a person and a government institution. And what the democratic impulse and idea does to the stability of that power relationship.

It blows that relationship to chaos. A chaos that we want. . . . To Be Continued

Hope Springs and Freedom Sings, Advocate, 04/11/2016

The more philosophical stuff will continue after this weekend. Today, I’m just writing a short post to add a little promotion to the Syria Film Festival – which opens tonight at the Isabel Bader Theatre at University of Toronto.


SYFF is an organization that’s grown very close to my heart since I became involved last summer. For one thing, it was my first (if still unpaying) gig in the communications field – an internship that I started a couple of months after graduating from my college program.

Though the internship’s term itself finished after the premiere film festival last November, I stayed attached to the organization. And I’m a core part of the organizing committee, though I admit that I haven’t been able to contribute quite as much as I’d like to.

Especially after getting a monstrous cold just a few days ago that knocked me out during the frenzied final preparations and promotions.

But I’ve made quite a few good friends here, and gotten involved in an organization that fits the utopian character of my political, social, and moral values. After all, SYFF is based on the notion that art, cinema, and images can help change the world. It’s a wildly unbelievable truth.

Consider the macabre image that launched the wave of Canadian support, grief, and love for Syrian people – Aylan Kurdi’s dead body washed up on a beach. I remember one committee member at the time remarking that the image would pass away within a news cycle or two.

I could tell it was different, that it had a singular and great power. I knew its power was potentially transformative for a lot of people in Canada. I was one of only two Canadian-born members of the core crew in SYFF’s first year, so maybe I had a better sense of how that image would drive people in my society.

But I’m also a film writer, and a lover of cinema. I understand the power of images. That image brought thousands of people out of refugee camps to my country where they can live in peace. That image brought a huge wave of publicity to our film festival.

In our first year, most of our films were pretty depressing. They were all documentaries – some short a couple feature-length – that followed the uprising and the war. A woman who defied her parents to join the revolution against Assad. An animated homage to the White Helmet rescue squads. Shorts about the unending limbo of life in Za’atari Refugee Camp.

I think my favourite film from SYFF 2015 was 50 Feet From Syria, a documentary about Hisham Bismar, a Syrian-American orthopaedic surgeon who travelled to a Turkish hospital just over the border. He treated refugees and performed emergency surgery on freshly wounded soldiers, revolutionaries, and civilians rushed over the border. It was unflinching in depicting the real, gory brutality of shrapnel and bombing injuries. It’s one of the greatest documentaries I’ll never watch again.

Jay Abdo – leaving Damascus, the Hollywood of Arabia, for the
Hollywood of Hollywood.
We have a few war stories in SYFF 2016, it’s true. Our Friday night feature documentary is After Spring, a powerful look at the brutal results of the 2011 democratic uprisings across the Arab world.

But we also have stories of hope. We have a film about the Syrian actor Jay Abdo, tracing his journey from being one of the most famous and respected character actors of Arab television and film, fleeing to America as a dissident, and restarting his career in American cinema.

Jay was a special guest at last year’s festival, and is returning this year to introduce and discuss his film. A few days ago, I did a detailed interview with him, which I hope to turn into several longer articles about SYFF, Jay’s journey, and a look into the world of Arab television.

I think the film I’m most proud of so far in SYFF 2016 is Syrian Eagles. It’s opening the festival tonight, and it’s the first film SYFF itself has produced. Our programming committee head – and well-experienced documentarian – Aisha Jamal directed it.

Syrian Eagles is the story of a local Toronto soccer team composed entirely of Syrian newcomers, telling their stories and their hopes in their new country. At its forefront is hope in the face of terror and war, and a new community of welcome and peace.

Art will change the world.

Iraq & Syria: A Spark that Lit an All-Consuming Fire, Advocate, 05/10/2016

One of my arts & advocacy projects is my work with the Syria Film Festival. This is an organization that gave me my first communications gig after I finished my business program, an internship for their public relations work.

Though Blumenthal doubts their legitimacy because of it, the White
Helmets are simultaneously humanitarians and publicists for
democratic activism. But advocacy and humanitarianism have
never been separate.
The friendships and professional relationships I’ve built in my work with SYFF have been ethically and professionally rewarding. And aside from my personal fulfillment, I’m proud to be part of an artistic and advocacy network that strives for a peaceful and free Syria – an end to the world’s most brutal ongoing war and an end to the culture and institutions of dictatorship that laid the conditions for that war.

So it burned me pretty hard to see Max Blumenthal’s recent articles floating around my social media networks. These amount to hit pieces on The Syria Campaign, a public relations firm whose focus is building support for humanitarian work in Syria – in particular, advocating on behalf of the White Helmets – and for an end to the Assad regime. 

None of these are objectively bad things. In a war – especially one as horrifying as Syria’s – humanitarian workers are needed. And the Assad regime from Hafez to Bashar has been a Stalinist totalitarian police state, organizing its institutional power along ethnic-religious sectarian lines. 

Ending that dynasty’s decades-long reign would be a chance for a new beginning. And with a population inside and outside Syria of highly educated, democratically-inclined people, that country would have a good chance of growing into an Arab democracy.

The problem is that we in the West have heard all this sort of stuff before.

Substance: Lobbying & Image-Making

Blumenthal does a fine job of tracing the links between the White Helmets, the Syria Campaign, and a variety of activist individuals and organizations who’ve worked with and drawn funds from the American government’s democracy promotion agencies like USAID, the Office of Transition Initiatives, and affiliated contractor companies like Chemonics. 

He’s found examples of individual members of White Helmet brigades who – when out of their humanitarian uniforms – have carried out terrible acts of violence. Who have tortured people who’ve been claimed to work for the Assad regime. Who have apparently picked up a gun with Al Qaeda affiliated organizations like Jabhat Al Nusra.

Seriously. You should go.
He concludes, after combing through the history of all these links, that the Syria Campaign and the White Helmets are not non-partisan humanitarians but are open agitators in the Syrian war. For him, that implies that their humanitarian work is a sham, a mere “public relations” move. 

The move that leads Blumenthal to condemn the Syria Campaign, though, is their new campaign to lobby for a no-fly zone over Syria. This would require a massive military intervention to enforce. Given the current state of Assad’s alliances, this would essentially require a shooting war between the United States of America and the Russian Federation.

That’s a situation that could easily escalate into a true nuclear war. That is something we should all be afraid of. I’d dare say it’s one of the reasons why the United States hasn’t intervened in Syria. Given Putin’s aggressive stance, a more nuanced strategy is needed to stop him without provoking him into authorizing nuclear weapons use.

Between a Quagmire and a World in Flames

Leave aside all the pragmatic arguments, though I can easily make them. Most of them are obvious – the necessity to play power politics when trying to unseat a brutal totalitarian regime like Bashar al Assad’s. 

Yes, you have to lobby with powerful states that have military capabilities to cripple and destroy the regime you oppose. Public relations, building alliances, building popular support in the countries whose governments you want to enlist to your goals. 

The power of the UN is that its neutrality lets them mediate between
even the most horrible actors. I remember stories in his biography
of Sergio Vieira de Mello of how he negotiated with the Khmer
Rouge. But that neutrality is precisely why the Syria Campaign
can't get on the UN bandwagon in the war. Revolutionaries can't
be neutral in their own fight.
Public relations – done right and with an ethical conscience – is the organization of democracy. It’s mobilizing people, taking part in the marketplace of persuasion, ideas, and competing social goals. 

Yes, it’s manipulative – but even the least amount of media literacy, which is near-universal today, gives the public power over advocates. A critical eye can still defend yourself against being a patsy, and hold tight to your freedom when others want to seduce you.

Frankly, it’s easier to act entirely on your conscience when you live far from a war zone. When you do, you have to make what alliances you can to raise your chances of surviving just a little longer. It’s sanctimonious of a Western journalist like Max Blumenthal to demand total virtuousness to the point of saintliness of humanitarians who have to work in horrifying conditions.

This is at the heart of why the Syria Campaign critiques the United Nations and UNHCR for working so closely with the Assad regime. The UN has a mandate to maintain neutrality in all conflicts – it has to be a non-partisan actor because its primary role is as the mediating forum for global politics.

So UN organizations have to work with even the most distasteful regimes. They have to recognize their legitimacy, despite their violence and terror. Even when a brutal government is under siege, the UN has to work with them. And they work with the groups uprising against that government too.

All too often, that need to work with the government of the day impedes the UN’s humanitarian mission. Because the UN and the UNHCR become dependent for access to populations in need upon the very leaders who are intent on slaughtering those populations. 

That is why the Syria Campaign, along with more than 70 Syrian human rights and democracy organizations, denounced the UN’s complicity with the Assad regime. Blumenthal describes their opposition to UN strategy and operations as a sign of their corruption, their being stooges of American military interests.

The Syria Campaign makes no illusion of neutrality in the war. They’re democrats. They want Syria at peace and Assad gone. They want a democratic Syria.

Seeing Shadows

That’s at the heart of Blumenthal’s accusation toward the Syria Campaign and White Helmets: You want regime change. 

Pictured above: Not Bashar or Hafez Assad. Remember that.
For the Western left, that’s a charged phrase. A phrase with a lot of deep and terrible meanings and implications. Regime change.

Since the late 20th century, the Western left has opposed the broad ideology of the American government and the circles of think tanks and lobbying organizations that surround that institution. It kicked into gear with protests against the World Trade Organization, opposing the imposition of global economic rules and institutions running according to what we now call neoliberal austerity.

That opposition gained a military dimension in the Bush years, with the massive protest movement against the American invasion of Iraq. That time made many in the left lose our faith in the global spread of democracy.

It seems to make no sense at first. Why would the progressive left give up on democracy? 

Because we saw it delivered at the barrel of a gun, with a plan designed by a set of neoconservative think tank dorks that was barely up to the task. Within months of the American occupation of Iraq, an Al Qaeda terror campaign began in Baghdad and Anbar, while a sectarian army arose in Shia territory.

No matter how sincere Bush, Cheney, and their crew were about the power of the American army to secure a democratic Iraq – and I have no doubt that they were truly sincere – all they achieved was six years of barely organized violence by the national army and rapacious piracy from leagues of mercenaries.

Through it all ran the not-very-secret word: regime change. The original American plan for Iraq was to install the exiled liberal party of Ahmed Chalabi as the democratically elected ruler of Iraq. Much of the faulty and false intelligence that the Bush Administration used to justify their invasion was supplied by Chalabi’s group and their affiliate lobbying organizations.

When Max Blumenthal looks at Syria, he sees Iraq.

In Syria, the revolution is televised. And ongoing.
It Began With Revolution

That’s why he denounces the Syria Campaign and the White Helmets as stooges for American military expansion and a new invasion of the Middle East. He sees public relations and media lobbying – its methods updated for the online media universe – as more of the same manipulation from liberal autocrats like Chalabi.

He sees the Syria Campaign and other activists calling out the United Nations for their complicity with the Assad regime as a new version of Bush’s railroading of the UN in 2002. A repetition of the old dismissal of the legitimacy of the grounding institution of all international law.

He paints Bashar Assad as the legal and tolerable – if horrid and distasteful – rightful leader of Syria, under siege from a superpower desperate to prevent its military decline. Just as Saddam Hussein was, the totalitarian bugbear of American neoconservatism.

But Syria in 2016 isn’t Iraq in 2002. Syria has already been embroiled in a civil war for years that began in a revolution against Assad’s regime. Blumenthal erases the will of millions of Syria’s people, seeing only public relations firms and shadowy manipulations of empire-minded deep organs of American government.

If you’re going to criticize American military intervention, there are plenty of ways to do it. Mostly because their efforts tend to self-destruct and fall apart through mismanagement. Or they’ll be out-maneuvered by a more ruthless Vladimir Putin, who isn’t squeamish about dropping bunker buster bombs on schools and hospitals.

Don’t forget that the unfolding violence of Syria’s war began – and continues – a revolution against a totalitarian tyrant. In a way, that’s quite an American story. It’s certainly a democratic one.

Freedom Speaks With Light From a Screen, Jamming, 16/09/2016

Tonight, I’ll be busy with a fundraising event I’m organizing with the Syria Film Festival. For lack of a better name, it’s the SYFF Cultural Party, and it’s actually going to be a pretty fun night. 

When we were planning the fundraiser, we had our eye on a comprehensive menu of entertainment. We’ve arranged an art auction, and our Festival Director AtoZ’s band is playing a set of traditional and contemporary Syrian music. 


But the centrepiece of the Cultural Party is the screening of a film that one of our partners produced, My Dream My Right. Faisal Attrache is a documentary director who's made several shorts following the lives of people at the Za’atari Refugee Camp just over Syria’s border with Jordan.

Over 80,000 people live in Za’atari, making it Jordan’s fourth-largest city. It’s a city made of United Nations tents in the middle of the bloody desert. It’s existed for four years. And it’s a pretty typical refugee camp in that it’s an enormous limbo for its residents, trapped by the international laws of citizenship that keep them from seeking a better life elsewhere.

The Europeans certainly don’t want any more Syrian people coming to their country, so everyone is just sort of stuck there. That’s what refugee camps are – places where people are stuck. 80,000 people.

Some of those people are youth who’ve taken part in a set of filmmaking workshops that Attrache – and his organization, Voices of the Children – have set up. My Dream My Right is a collection of several short films that these young people made themselves. Each is only a few minutes long, and expresses an aesthetic style unique to each of these young directors.

One of the founding activists and officials in the UNHCR, Thomas Jamieson, had a saying that I discovered a while ago. “If you can close a camp, do it.” A refugee camp is a living purgatory, stuck in a place where your citizenship and your humanity isn’t even fully recognized. 

It reminds me of one core truth behind my own political ideas – We can’t rely on our states to protect us and bestow us rights. We deserve full rights and legal recognition as people, regardless of citizenship and the laws of whatever government issued us our papers. You're always in some minimal danger of a government that cares nothing for you leaving you out to dry.

Well, Za’atari doesn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. But these young people are sick of the limbo of life in a refugee camp.

The Cultural Party will also now be the first stage in fulfilling a promise I made to the documentary’s producers at the Voices of the Children non-profit. Figuring out how to get these people out of the god damn refugee camp. 

Because if you've been stuck in a refugee camp in the middle of the Jordanian desert overlooking the Syrian border for four years,* you’ll want to get the hell out. It’s not a nice place to be for a month, let alone for four years.

* Four fucking years. I mean, seriously.

Four fucking years. I’d have had it. I’m not surprised that these guys have too. So I plan on introducing (virtually) some of SYFF’s donors and immigration activist partners to the young artists behind My Dream My Right

If they can produce such remarkable cinematic beauty in the generally shitty conditions of Za’atari, they’ll be able to weather pretty much anything in the name of art. Especially if they can get the resources of a country and society like Canada working for them.

Some of the heirs to Werner Herzog’s pragmatic existential cinematic process could be in Za’atari right now. We owe it to the world, humanity, God, to get them to make as many films as physically possible.

God would owe them. God should owe them.

Once again, here’s the Facebook event for the Cultural Party tonight. Never stop pushing and nudging the world toward freedom. Even if it’s just a $20 cover charge.

Looking for Terrors Beyond the West, Research Time, 07/07/2016

Last post, I spoke about a film project that some of my colleagues at the Syria Film Festival are working on. I consider it incredibly fortunate that I’ve met these folks, not only because they’ve become trusted friends as I establish myself in Toronto.

But also because they’re all such good people. And they’ve taught me a lot about the Arab world that I don’t think a lot of white people understand. I’m very grateful to my Syrian friends for enlightening me about the lives of regular people in this region.

Because we don’t often hear anything about the lives of regular people in the Arab world. Not Presidents, not diplomats, not insurgent leaders, but ordinary folks. Accountants, engineers, writers, and repair techs. 

A promotional still from Stars in Broad Daylight (Nujum
an-Nahar
), Ossama Mohammad's feature film
masterpiece, called the greatest film to have come out
of Syria. At least, the greatest so far. Always the
greatest so far.
If all you learn about this part of the world is what you hear through mainstream Western media sources – actually, I’m not going to finish that sentence. Because you shouldn’t do such a stupid thing, as you’ll only learn a series of ridiculous racist stereotypes. 

And you shouldn’t just switch to alternative Western media sources, because you’re just as likely to hear conspiracy theories or praise for Stalinist dictators. I mean, fuck Russia Today. 

The real life of a region of the world that’s foreign to you is in how ordinary people live there. And you’ll likely only learn any of that by talking to people who have actually lived there. You shouldn’t take their word as gospel about what’s good and bad, of course. 

For example, if you meet someone from Iran whose family grew wealthy under the international sanctions regime, you probably won’t get a very critical view on the current state institutions. You should always have a critical eye, but you’ll learn different things when you simply make friends and talk with people. 

I learned about the weird racializing hierarchy of life as a foreign worker in the United Arab Emirates, for instance. Apparently, it’s very good to be Canadian (if you’re okay with having skeletally-paid servants). From another friend, I learned how recklessly fucking everybody speeds in the Saudi Kingdom, particularly Riyadh. 

Small, insightful details about everyday life. You don’t get that from sensationalist journalism. Even serious investigative journalism rarely pursues such everyday, quotidian details. Yet those details are the thick webbing of any society.

I spent some time last night before writing this entry preparing some social media posts as part of SYFF’s promotional partnership with TIFF. Toronto International Film Festival has a series of screenings at Lightbox come the end of August, of Syrian cinema. Particularly the films of Ossama Mohammad, probably Syria’s greatest auteur yet.

What must it do to a human subjectivity to grow up in a
political regime with the peculiar, insidious repression
as the Syrian state crafted by Hafez Assad and
maintained under his son Bashar? It's a testament to
the human drive for freedom that the desire for
democracy remains so strong for all that.
One of the films is Step By Step, in Arabic Khutwa Khutwa. It’s a short documentary, made in 1977, just under half an hour. It explores Hafez Assad’s programs of social engineering, his attempts to use the bludgeons of state power to rebuild the subjectivities of Syrian people across the country.

Thousands of people from rural farming villages were forcibly uprooted and forced to become manual labourers in the major cities. Many thousands more were conscripted into state armies, where they were drilled into a new kind of soldier – the citizen soldier. 

The philosophies underlying these attempts at mass social engineering are fascinating. But in these brief discussions of these films, they only appear in brief flashes. 

Part of what I want to analyze in my Utopias book is how social change goes wrong. One of the obvious ways is when state laws and police institutions take charge and march society in the direction a government’s leaders want. 

But I want the analysis to go deeper than these simple intuitions about humanity’s yearning for freedom. As it stands, I can’t get past the basic principles of the tradition of political theory that began with Spinoza and Machiavelli.

A good handle on the history of these massive state interventions to remake society will let me go beyond the too-simple analyses of the modern libertarian right-wing. And I don’t want to return to the well that those Hayek-influenced thinkers have drawn from so much – the Nazi and Bolshevik regimes.

They’re pivotal to the West, but they’re also the common examples that everyone goes to. So I want to examine the foundational philosophies of these twisted utopias that arose just outside the vision of Western eyes. Places like Syria under Hafez Assad, or Cambodia under Pol Pot. 

To find the original Ba’athist philosophers, and see what perversity and terror emerges. Stare it in the face, and grapple with its abyssal terror.

When I write Utopias, it’s going to be a very intense book.

Header Out of a Diaspora, Advocate, 06/07/2016

This will actually be a short post today, as I’m preparing a longer series about political theory that’s going to get multi-part and weird. Today, I want to talk specifically about some of the film festival work I’m doing.

I’ve written about the Syria Film Festival before, the new arts organization I started working with about a year ago as it was getting off the ground. The first festival in 2015 was such a success that we’re all building on its reputation and relationships in a variety of different projects.

I mean, SYFF now has working relationships not only with a few other small film festivals around the city – with focusses in Arab communities and human rights advocacy. We’re also partners with the Toronto International Film Festival and the Aga Khan Museum. 

That’s pretty tight. We’re also developing a couple of small film projects of our own. One is a series of interviews with Syrian newcomer families that came in the first wave of refugees in the early months of the Trudeau Jr government. Another is a larger short film, Syrian Eagles.

This will be a documentary – maybe 15 to 20 minutes long – about a soccer team of newcomers from Syria, who practice in the west end of Toronto, in a field near Eglinton Avenue and (I think) Jane. It’s a small film with a budget that we’re crowdfunding, and with a little help from a few more people, we can produce a sparkling little film.


* Yes, yes, shameless plug and all.

We can seriously get so much done with only a few thousand dollars. I’m quite impressed with all that we’ve done so far in terms of finding film professionals to work on this project with us, and conceiving and planning the whole affair.

Because I’ve hardly done any of this end of the planning. Most of my initiatives are about outreach for partnerships with other film festivals, particularly JAYU Human Rights Film Festival and TIFF. My own filmmaking work, I do on my own.

I sometimes wonder if we’re overextending ourselves with all these different projects in only our second year. But then, I’m one to talk, aren’t I?

Words in Memory of a Photojournalist, Advocate, 16/03/2016

This weekend, I spoke at a memorial for the photojournalist Ali Mustafa. He was a Canadian killed in Syria, travelling with the White Helmet paramedic brigades documenting their dangerous activity in Aleppo.

He died at the age of 30 in a March 2014 barrel bomb attack on the city by the Syrian government. 

I was speaking on behalf of the Syria Film Festival, where I’m communications manager. It’s a volunteer position I’ve held since the first festival in November this year. We included, during that festival, a small exhibition of Ali’s photos, along with a poster introducing his work. 

But I didn’t actually know Ali myself. He died a year and a half before I started volunteering with the Syria Film Festival. The organizers, one of whom was a good friend of Ali’s, only thought of the Syria Film Festival months later. 

Yet there I was giving a speech at a memorial for a man I didn’t know. And his mission in life – freelance photojournalism in the middle of brutal crackdowns on the Arab world’s democratic revolutions – is something beyond what I could conceive of myself ever being able to imagine myself doing.

He feels like a very different kind of person than me.

We broadcast video of my memorial speech on Periscope, but I’m not sure yet if it’s been recorded. I improvised a lot of what I said from notes, but here’s my reconstruction of my own speech. After introducing my role in the Syria Film Festival and the festival’s work so far promoting and memorializing Ali’s life and work, I reflected on how;
I mean yeah, I'm speaking here. But I didn't even know
the guy. 
“The Syria Film Festival wouldn’t exist without the bravery of people like Ali Mustafa. People who pick up a camera or some other kind of art-making equipment and make some kind of art, some kind of record of what happened in the cities of Syria, in the public squares of Cairo.
“And I can understand why someone who lived in Aleppo would join and document the demonstrations against Assad and the civil war that followed. I understand why an Egyptian would go to Tahrir Square with a camera. It’s their country. Their home.
“It's not my home. To consider taking on that kind of danger, such a mission? I’d ask myself, ‘What? Doesn’t anybody in Aleppo have a camera? Oh, you’re going? That’s great. I’m happy for you . . . Stay safe, stay safe. I’ll feed your cat while you’re gone.’
“We owe an ethical debt to Ali and everyone like him. Their bravery isn’t my bravery. I don’t even have to be brave. I live in a democratic country, and I have all my life. I don’t have to be brave to say that I think everyone should live in a democratic country, and be free from violence, poverty, and war. I've been fortunate to live in a democratic country, in relative freedom, and at peace. It’s easy for me to be an idealist.
“I noticed one of the quotes from Ali, from his Twitter account, that's hanging on the walls here, and I wanted to talk about it, even though I've already prepared my remarks. I planned well ahead – I wrote them yesterday.
“He writes, ‘I feel sorry for all the idealists, purists, dreamers of the world; those who never bend, but easily break. This world was not made for you. In the end, it will devour you whole.’
“I don't know if Ali Mustafa considered himself that kind of idealist. I know I try to be. For now I can only stand in awe of someone like Ali. Maybe one day, I’ll understand it.”
The next Syria Film Festival is this November, opening at the Isabel Theatre Nov 6, then at Jackman Hall in the Art Gallery of Ontario for the rest of the weekend. Other screenings throughout the year.