Sunday 26 April 2009

Cold and wet

It's a grey and miserable day in Melbourne. Dorian's trying to light the fire, but generally we really need to do something about the heating in this house - but that's just part of the huge renovation plans that we have. Walls need to be knocked down, chicken coops built, doors punched through and benches put in. But not just yet... la la.

Spent part of the day editing tomorrow's Accent of Women show, which will be on Burmese refugees in Malaysia. SOund quality is quite poor (need to get CIJ to invest in some new cables!), but the subject matter is important, so I hope listeners will bear with it. Sigh. The following week will be on 'dual loyalty' and the medical profession - of interest to those who might be interested in the ethical responsibilities of doctors in the light of the Kugan case. But you'll have to wait till next week :).

Sunday 19 April 2009

Getting personal

As this blog was originally meant to talk about me, not about politics...

Have just got back to Melbourne, and think that (like the last one) this long-haul flight has left me ill. My nose is blocked and I've slept about 15 hours in the last 24. And we have mice in the kitchen. I'm not entirely sure what to do about this - the stupid cats are not remotely earning their keep. Must get rid of them. Soon. Before little Ibra gets here - hope to visit her this afternoon, but see how I'm feeling.

Of course, not talking about politics means that the post is really short....

Tuesday 3 March 2009

More on Kugan...

The last post was written before I read the reports on the second post-mortem. Having attended the inquests of previous youths who died in police detention, I feel ill. Repeatedly, families were denied the right to an independent post-mortem, and there was strong suspicion why, but because there was nothing but suspicion, because there wasn't the public outcry, the deaths just kept piling up, at the rate of almost two a week at one stage. And nothing happened.

It's good that this has finally come out. It's tragic, shameful and disgusting that so many young men died before even this much of the truth could be known.

The problem with Kugan....

Now, please bear with me on this post. I want to play a little mind-game that a lot of people may find unpleasant and somehow intrinsically wrong.

Let us just imagine that A Kugan was indeed a car thief. Let's go one further and make him the car hijacker of the urbanite nightmare - after all in previous inquests, there have been serious attempts made (however irrelevant) to establish that the deceased was in fact a criminal. So let's pretend that he was a criminal.

Does his death in custody deliver justice to his traumatised victims, held up in their own cars with a knife or a gun, forced to climb out of their cars after harassment, and left at the side of the road, no phone, no money, no vehicle?

I would argue, forcibly, that it doesn't. Instead, I would be doubly traumatised because - with good reason - Mr Kugan has become a hero. He has become a victim. In some way, he has usurped the position of his victims.

And even if this hadn't happened, even if he had not been made a hero - there is no process here. Part of the point of the courts of law is that justice is not only done, but is seen to be done. The victim gets to feel the satisfaction that the perpetrator has had adequate chance to defend themselves (more than the victim had), but has been found guilty by the state. Publicly and generally incontestably. It may not bring the car back, it may not appease the trauma but it reinforces faith in the country's institutions, at the very least.

Any victims of a person who dies in custody are denied this cathartic process. They are denied justice, and become, once again, victims.

This isn't good for anybody... the police, the judiciary, the victim of crime, or even the perpetrator.

As it is, Kugan (like many before him) died an innocent man - just as all are innocent until proven guilty.

Saturday 28 February 2009

A little nakedness...

It's been a while since I posted, and this is meant to be a blog for keeping in touch with friends and family while I'm in Oz so it's a little ironic that my first post in almost a year is the day (pretty much) that I touch down in KL.

Yesterday, I was looking through blogs and such, and caught my first sight of one of the supposedly scandalous pictures of Eli Wong. It was far from scandalous, but what really caught my notice was that this picture was of her sleeping with her glasses on. Now, perhaps this wasn't one of *the* pix, but one concocted from various shots online or somesuch. But I can reveal that I am in a somewhat privileged position. Because I'm quite sure, that Ms Wong does not sleep with her glasses on.

The reason I know this is because I, like many others, have been in a position to violate Ms Wong's trust and confidence in us, and creep into her bedroom late at night and take photos of her. Had it been my whim to do so. Eli Wong is a generous person. Not only have I taken advantage of her hospitality on so many occasions that at one stage she had a bed permanently set up for me, but I know many, many others who have also done so. Journalists from Indonesia, human rights workers from all over the globe, environmentalists, musicians... Eli and her housemates would welcome people into their home and onto their sofas. This is in the best tradition of all major religions, particularly Islam - the granting of hospitality to guests and weary travellers.

Of course, to my knowledge, none of these guests violated the reverse of that hospitality, invading Eli's private space. Not because of locks and keys (though there may well have been such, I never rattled at her doorknob), but because it's just rude, discourteous.

The point is, in this age of mobile phones and pinhead cameras, the only way to ensure your privacy is to lock yourself up. The most chaste woman, who piously provides a stranger with a glass of water and the use of her facilities, could find herself at the stranger's mercy, after he/ she installs a tiny video cam in her toilet. What do we do? We could decide that we all take after the people in 'The Machine Stops', live in little cubicles and never coming into contact with another human being.

Or we could be rational about it. Say, these things happen. How can we help the victims of this crime and discourage the perpetrators?

A lesson from Australia might be pertinent here. Around the same time the Hilmi Malek scandal broke (perhaps this would be a start, naming scandals after supposed perpetrators rather than victims), there was a story in a Sunday paper. A man had been sentenced to 15 years in prison for attempted blackmail, of AUD15,000. He had slept with a married politician, who has children, who he had picked up at an Internet chat site.

The court would not allow the politician's name to be mentioned in open session. And the blackmailer is banned from ever saying the man's name, even to his family. The issue of the anonymous politician's morality never arises - nobody knows who he is. It's possible that his wife discovered the truth - it would have been hard to keep such an affair secret, but generally the blackmailer was punished, the victim left to leave his life as he had before, though hopefully with more concern for the welfare of his wife and children.

Blogging at the end of the world

That's what it feels like. The country I live in is on fire, the apocalypse is with us. A thousand homes burnt to the ground. Communitie...