Currently, Barghouti is the Secretary-General of the Palestinian National Initiative, a political party that was formed in 2002 with Edward Said, Dr. Haidar Abdel-Shafi and Ibrahim Dakkak. The Initiative (al-Mubadara in Arabic) calls for nonviolent resistance against the Israel occupation of the West Bank and Gaza.

Worldfocus producer Mohammad al-Kassim recently interviewed Barghouti in New York. The rising Palestinian politician talks openly about the difficulties facing the Middle East process, infighting among Palestinians and the Obama administration. Despite all the obstacles, Barghouti feels surprisingly positive about the future.

Also, listen to Barghouti on Worldfocus Radio: Jerusalem United or Divided?

Bruna Santos, a 17-year-old student from Brasilia, Brazil, produced a short video about child labor in Brazil.

In the accompanying text, Santos discusses the plight of children who work on the streets selling candy and other goods to supplement their parents’ income.

Child labor in Brasilia is becoming more common day by day. Children work mostly on the streets selling candies, flowers, stickers and other small items. Some perform services, such as watching over cars or washing them in public parking lots. Others shine shoes. Brasília has 2 million inhabitants and is the city with highest per capita income in the country, according to the Brazilian Institute of Geography and Statistics. Research by the Federal Policy Department shows that about 7,512 children are now working on the streets.

Most of these children come from low-income families, and their parents do not have a steady job or do not make enough money to take care of their children. So, the children work on the streets to help buy food and pay for bills….

Wesley Pereira, 12, and his brothers, Walisson Pereira, 14, and Wellington Pereira, 16, sell candy at a busy downtown intersection for nine hours a day. They have been working at that intersection for more than a year, said Wesley. They earn about 150 reais ($68 US) a day, but must spend 60 reais ($28 US) of that to buy candy for the next day, they said.

Worldfocus producer Channtal Fleischfresser spoke with Santos about her experience making the piece.

Why did you decide to do a story about child labor?
I had to choose from a number of issues: student politics, child labor, and other areas, and I was the only representative from Brazil to deal with child labor as a subject.

Bruna Santos

Here in Brazil, we often see children asking for money at street lights, washing cars, selling stickers or sweets. I thought it would be interesting to show other people. When most people think of child labor, they think of kids in sweatshops, not selling things on the street.

Did you have trouble getting the children to speak to you?
We interviewed three kids and one who was afraid of being identified because he thought his parents would beat him. My teacher and I went through several drafts of the piece to avoid exposing the kids too much.

Did you write the piece in Portuguese or English?
I wrote a draft in Portuguese and then wrote it into English with the help of my teacher, Claudia Batista.

Have you already decided what you want to do professionally?
I decided two years ago that I wanted to be a journalist. I’ve always liked to read and write, and I started looking for people who worked with this. I’m sure it’s what I want to do.

How long have you been working with iEARN?
I’ve been working with them since the beginning of 2009. It’s very interesting, because in addition to using a different language, [English,] you get to meet lots of different people, and see different perspectives you didn’t know about before.

- Channtal Fleischfresser

Air Koryo stewardesses with delicately coiffed hair and impeccable red suits directed us to our seats in the stuffy Tupolev aircraft. Flimsy seat backs folded completely forward onto the seat cushions. Pyongyang-bound tourists, businessmen, and North Koreans fanned themselves ferociously, as the temperature hit 80 degrees.

Forget Bill rescuing Laura and Euna in a private jet. Our Soviet-made plane first arrived in Pyongyang when Richard Nixon was conducting ping-pong diplomacy with China.

Banned in the E.U., Air Koryo is the only international carrier with the lowest 1-star Skytrax rating. Luckily, flight JS 156 from Shenyang was only 50 minutes.

We touched down, sweaty and relieved. The head stewardess announced, “Welcome to the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea!” We blue-state Americans were ready to challenge the hermit kingdom’s concept of “imperialist dogs.”

Fearlessly led by three 2009 Brown University graduates, our Five Passes group had 18 scholarly Americans — including a Berkeley sociologist and an assistant director at the Asia Society — and 1 Chinese citizen. The tricky visas for the five-day North Korea tour had been arranged through North Korea’s consulate in Shenyang by a Chinese travel agent of North Korean origin.

After landing, airport officials escorted one of our guides and me to a back room to take our temperature. (Back in New York, I had half-joked whether a senator would rescue me from ping-pong with the dictator). They said we were warm - probably false - but maybe the result of the steamy plane ride. Twenty minutes of detention were disconcerting.

We had left forbidden items in China - several iPhones, a Blackberry, Star of David necklace, and a large zoom lens. Our group was anxious that customs officials might find a New Yorker cartoon of Kim Jong-il.

After leaving the terminal, we boarded our old tour bus and saw five half-smiling North Korean hosts - our guide, guard, minder, driver — and cameraman. We instantly became the subjects of a government travel documentary. Our tailor-made Truman Show had begun — in a 1950’s dystopia behind the Korean curtain.

We stayed at the grand Yanggakdo Hotel, on an island in the middle of the sluggish Taedong River. While the rooms looked like those in a 1970’s Ramada, we delighted in the 9-hole golf course, revolving rooftop restaurant, and Chinese-owned casino.

We mingled with Westerners and local families at the outdoor bar on the island’s edge. Bar matrons tended tables until after midnight — and even remembered our Koreanized names when we stepped into the fluorescent light of the breakfast hall by 6:30 a.m.

On the third day of our 92-hour time warp to the world’s most secretive country, we drove to Mt. Myohyang, 90 miles north of Pyongyang. Bob, a University of Colorado professor and our most quintessential American, bowed awkwardly at a waxen Kim Jong-il inside the International Friendship Exhibition. We chuckled about Bob’s homage to the “dear leader.”

Walking past thousands of treasures received by the reclusive leader and his late father, our guard commented on the U.S.-D.P.R.K relationship. “When the general plays with that ball, it proves that he controls the whole world in his hands,” said Lee, glaring at the Michael Jordan-autographed basketball Madeline Albright gave to Kim Jong-il in 2000. We then nicknamed our guard “Serious-Lee.”

His diametric opposite was our baby-faced 33-year-old minder with Buddha ears - also Lee - whom we called “Happy-Lee.” Neither Lee told us his first name, enabling our good cop/bad cop monikers. “Naive-Lee” versus “Stern-Lee.” And “Nice-Lee” versus “Malevolent-Lee.”

Nice-Lee charmed us with awkward English, using “representative” and “condensed” to describe our experience. But Serious-Lee, who stars in the 2008 Vice Guide to North Korea, prevented us from causing real trouble.

Nice-Lee fondly recalled the American and North Korean flags displayed side-by-side at the February 2008 Pyongyang performance of the New York Philharmonic. He was also impressed by the orchestra’s many Asian-Americans.

Our guide was an pretty 25-year-old woman who cheerfully promoted government dogma but tired of our questions. Our postmodern sensibilities overwhelmed her, especially when we spoke candidly about diplomatic rapprochement. But we did our best to transcend ideology by discussing nonpolitical issues.

On our tightly managed tour, objectivity and authenticity were in short supply. Though culturally sensitive, we critiqued claims about the economy and the allegedly hostile U.S. government. Bearing our American soft power, we were lucky to visit in the footsteps of our ex-president. Although we feared becoming pawns of Pyongyang’s public relations campaign, we hoped that our educational tour benefited the broader diplomatic thaw.

On our last day in Pyongyang, we said goodbye to plentiful Kimjongilias and Kimilsungias, the country’s revered flowers. At the airport, we noticed only two flights listed that day.

The return flight was the most terrifying part of the entire trip. Taiwanese passengers twice shrieked when the plane dropped dramatically. The plane was a microcosm of the country: in complete disrepair, while most people inside remain mum about their plight.

We cursed that the embargo prevented Air Koryo from updating its ancient fleet. I’ll wait until new jets arrive for my next voyage to the perfectly preserved Cold War museum, our beloved Hermit Kingdom.

- Ben Piven

A long camera crane swings overhead, women and men alike scream, and I’m whacked upside the head by a Greek photographer. I work for a serious news show on PBS. So how did I end up smack in the middle of the mayhem at one of Greece’s hottest celebrity weddings?

Last June, correspondent Lynn Sherr and I traveled to Greece to shoot several stories, including one on the controversy over gay marriage. But only one such ceremony had ever taken place. So how do you film something that isn’t happening?

Lynn came up with the idea of shooting a straight wedding, to show what gay Greeks were missing out on. Our fixer, Dee Murphy, then found an event that fit into our packed schedule: the wedding of two Greek celebrities, Adonis Georgiadis, a right-wing member of Parliament, and Eugenia Manolidou, a concert pianist, turned television talk show host.

But, I asked, could we seriously just walk into this wedding without being invited? Dee explained that Greek weddings are nothing like American weddings. For one, churches are considered public places, where everyone is welcome. That turned out to be just one of many things different about this wedding.

When we arrived, the square outside the small church was a mob scene – packed with guests, press and hundreds – maybe thousands – of gawkers. I nabbed a place on the edge of the red carpet. At first, the other Greek cameramen were friendly, introducing themselves and joking – seemingly amused by the arrival of the random American.

But when the bride arrived, all niceties went out the window. The press surged, pushing and shoving to get the shot - no elbows spared for the only woman in the pack (me).

Greek tradition dictates that the bride and groom meet outside the church and process in together. A frenzied mob of cameras, bride and her screaming assistant slowly moved towards, and engulfed, the waiting groom, then worked its say into the already packed church.

Greek paparazzi enjoy a wild wedding. Photo: Megan Thompson

Everyone stood for the entire ceremony. While the Greek Orthodox service was performed at the front of the church, the back was a free-for-all – people coming in and out, carrying on loud conversations, climbing up on benches to see the action, making phone calls, snapping photos.

Outside, tables had been set up to hand out little bundles of candied almonds (another Greek tradition). People off the streets were practically jumping over the table to get at the little fluffs of tulle. Back inside, women started dismantling the decorative flower stands that lined the aisles and stuffing them in their purses.

The service ended, and the bride and groom were mobbed all the way back down the aisle and out the door, greeted by popping flashbulbs, confetti and television interviewers. And then they stood patiently and greeted anyone and everyone - friends and strangers alike - who wanted to convey their best wishes (and there were many).

Although this was not your run-of-the-mill Athens wedding, I still felt I’d caught a glimpse of something uniquely and wonderfully Greek. The energy, the joy and the delightful notion that marriage should happen in a very public way, for all the world to see and to celebrate. I’m not sure I’ll be able to appreciate an invitation-only American wedding in quite the same way, ever again.

- Megan Thompson

In a country where a woman is confined to her home, Joya is breaking all kinds of cultural, social and religious stereotypes. In May 2007, she was suspended after referring to the parliament as a stable, she said at least in “in a stable we have animals like a cow which is useful in that it provides milk and a donkey that carry a load.”

She speaks candidly about the challenges facing Afghanistan. She says that the low turnout in the presidential election is proof that the Afghan people are dissatisfied with the current government. She attributes the rise of Taliban to the failed policy of the U.S. in Afghanistan. She is also a staunch opponent of increasing U.S. troop levels in her country. Joya wants the U.S. and NATO to keep in mind that no foreign military has ever succeeded in controlling Afghanistan.

For her, the status of women now is no different than under the Taliban. She says that it may even be worse because the rate of suicide and abduction is high, and many rapists go untouched.

Because she is unabashedly outspoken, her life is under constant threat and she must be accompanied by bodyguards. But nothing so far seems to succeed in slowing her down. For sure not the many failed assassination attempts on her life, or the awful treatment she gets from her male colleagues in parliament.

Joya spent her childhood at a refugee camp in Iran and Pakistan, and returned to the Taliban-controlled Afghanistan in the late 1990s and worked for an underground organization helping women. She is now on a book tour in the U.S.  promoting her memoir, A Woman Among Warlords: The Extraordinary Story of an Afghan Woman Who Dared to Speak Out, co-written by Derrick O’Keefe.

- Mohammad Al Kassim

According to local lore, the tradition began as a way to prevent hyenas from attacking local children by keeping them outside of the city. Today, it’s a way to make a living from Ethiopia’s small tourist trade.

Pottery, glass and ceramic making are ancient industries in Hebron, Palestine. The city’s leather, stone, glass and ceramic goods are found throughout Palestinian, Israeli and Arab markets — but this is changing with the advent of economic globalization and fierce competition from inexpensive Chinese goods. Additionally, the political instability that has plagued the region for many years scares away tourists.

Emad El Natche and his family own and operate a Hebron glass and ceramics factory. Mr. El Natche spends hours in front of a gas oven melting recycled glass bottles at high temperatures. No two pieces that Mr. El Natche creates are alike; he prides himself on the attention to detail each piece gets. He says all of his creations are unique because of the process that no machine can replicate.

Despite the challenges from globalization and a lack of master craftsmen, El Natche remains hopeful that this ancient craft is not going to disappear without a fight.

- Mohammad al Kassim

North Korean Major Im Dong-chul. Photos: Ben Piven

Part 3 of 6 in our Inside the Hermit Kingdom series on the people and culture of North Korea. Worldfocus multimedia producer Ben Piven writes about his encounter with Major Im Dong-chul while on the north side of the Demilitarized Zone that separates the two Koreas.

Since 1953, it has been the world’s most militarized border. Bill Clinton has called it the scariest place on earth. Undoubtedly, my most compelling moment in North Korea was at the DMZ — Demilitarized Zone.

Many Americans visit the south side of the 2.5-mile wide buffer zone that runs across the 38th parallel, dividing the Communist north from the democratic south. But our group was given a rare glimpse of the north side, where more than one million soldiers lie in waiting.

Our tour guide, Im Dong-chul, was a 21-year veteran of the Korean People’s Army with a sharp jaw and oval eyes. He offered us our only opportunity to engage in real political conversation with a North Korean soldier. Although the dialogue began with tremendous tension, we moved toward a cordial rapport during our 90 minutes together.

Speaking in Korean, Major Im fielded questions about war and peace. The major and I squared off, with two dozen others crowded around, and I seized the challenge of bilateral hardball. I was simultaneously engaged as a journalist and a diplomat. And since Americans of neither profession are common in North Korea, the task at hand was immense.

Promoting the elusive two-party talks sought by North Korea, I asked what message I should relay to President Obama.

Major Im, with the line of control and U.S.-administered building on the South Korean side in the far background.

“The U.S. should end its hostile attitude towards the DPRK by withdrawing its forces from the Korean peninsula. This is the biggest issue blocking reunification,” he said.

“As a representative of the American people, I know that we voted for a new president because we wanted big changes in foreign policy,” I responded. “President Obama is sincere, but he’s busy with a dozen other problems.”

“If every American were like you, there would be peace,” he concluded. “And I hope Obama’s policy shift happens soon.”

I apologized for American bombers leveling Pyongyang during the Korean War, and the major responded to my empathy. I then reiterated the bottom line of denuclearization: the north needs to implement security guarantees for the south.

It was shocking that Major Im even tolerated our input. Apparently, American tourists had never engaged him before. We too felt the pressure, especially in the DMZ meeting room straddling the Korean border.

I wondered about the significance of the exchange. I had come to terms with our contribution to the tourist economy but hoped that we were not becoming apologists for the state’s Juche ideology.

Back at the hotel that night, we noticed signs of diplomatic progress on BBC World News. But the process is cyclical: the North relaxes its stance, opens to talks, and then postures militarily after making impossible demands. The leadership clams up, afraid to risk humiliation at the bargaining table.

Later in the trip, we heard endless misinformation at the Korean War museum and during our tour of the captured U.S.S. Pueblo spy ship.

In the conference room that straddles the line of control between the two Koreas.

We were told repeatedly that the Korean War was used to lift the Americans out of the depression and that the U.S. had initiated the war.

Yet, we heard not a peep about the American role in liberating Korea from Japan in World War Two, though we often heard more animosity toward the Japanese than toward the sworn American enemy.

During five days in the DPRK, North Korean people never reacted contemptuously to our group as Americans. While anti-American dogma figures into museums and monuments, strangers were deferential and usually avoided us. Tourism workers were often excessively nice, especially if we addressed them in Korean or Mandarin.

My conversation with Major Im was a small but promising victory for the prospects of diplomacy aimed at bringing the world’s most isolated, nuclear-armed regime in from the cold.

- Ben Piven

But as Google has gained a foothold in markets around the world, adapting its versions to different countries and languages, an inevitable problem has emerged: how do you delineate international boundaries when they are disputed by multiple countries?

This caused problems for the tech giant earlier this year, when its Chinese characters mislabeled an area called Arunachal Pradesh, which is under Indian administration.

While a simple solution to border disputes would be to stick to internationally recognized demarcations, Google has taken things a step further. Rather than risk antagonizing disputes among its partner countries– each with its own market potential– Google has customized its maps according to different countries’ official positions on their versions of its Google Maps application.

“This does not in any way endorse or affirm the position taken by any side,” according to a Google spokesperson, “but merely provides complete information on the prevailing geo-political situation to our users of global properties in a dispassionate and accurate manner.”

Take, for example, the Chinese version of Google Maps:

The disputed boundaries between India and Pakistan are indicated by dotted lines. But the border with China (to the northeast of India) is nevertheless solid.

Consider, then, the Indian version of the same region:

Here, it appears the only disputed area lies between Tajikistan and China, to the north of India. Indian territory itself, including the western part of Kashmir which is often attributed to Pakistan, is not in question. Furthermore, the area between China and India, which in China’s version belong to China, now lies within Indian territory.

Finally, compare these two version to the standard version of Google Maps:

Here, all disputed boundaries are indicated by a dotted line.

These border disputes predate the Internet — and are unlikely to go away any time soon.  Google has at least managed a temporary diplomatic resolution in cyberspace.

Google has customized their Maps application to reflect border disputes around the world. While border disputes predate the Internet — and are unlikely to go away any time soon — Google has at least managed a temporary diplomatic resolution in cyberspace. http://worldfocus.org/files/2009/11/th_china_map.jpg http://worldfocus.org/files/2009/11/th_china_map.jpg ]]> http://worldfocus.org/blog/2009/11/03/for-google-maps-diplomacy-trumps-geography/8021/feed/ http://worldfocus.org/blog/2009/10/30/communist-north-korea-clings-to-juche-ideology/8055/ http://worldfocus.org/blog/2009/10/30/communist-north-korea-clings-to-juche-ideology/8055/#comments Fri, 30 Oct 2009 21:32:50 +0000 Worldfocus http://worldfocus.org/?p=8055 Part 2 of 6 in our Inside the Hermit Kingdom series about the people and culture of North Korea. Ben Piven is a multimedia producer at Worldfocus who went to North Korea in August. He writes about the isolated Communist nation’s Juche state religion.

North Korea is a Cold War relic, but its communist roots alone do not explain the widespread adoption of the ideology knows as Juche — essentially a hybrid of East Asian Confucianism and East European Stalinism.

Despite the fact that state literature decrees “man is the master of all things,” Juche (”self-reliance” in Korean) is relentlessly collectivist.

Juche emphasizes rigid hierarchical authority and the harmonious arrangement of highly deferential individuals. Economic independence and military self-defense are its primary goals.

Juche is the main philosophical component of the political system known as Kimilsungism, which emerged from the leadership of Kim Jong-il’s father, Kim Il-sung.

The Kim Il-sung cult overshadows reverence for Kim Jong-il, whose image is scarcely seen on monuments. Scholars debate whether Juche qualifies as a religion, but the North Korean government certainly permits worship of no other gods.

Omnipresent Juche obelisks and Kim Il-sung immortality towers memorialize the “eternal president” who died in 1994 after almost a half-century in power. His portrait adorns every major public space, as Mao and Stalin’s did in their respective societies.

But subordination to the dead emperor is more theocratic than in Maoism and Stalinism. Pyongyang is Juche’s Jerusalem, and Kim’s birthplace, Mangyongdae, is the North Korean Bethlehem. His presidential palace, Kumsusan, is a sprawling compound with intimidating right angles and exquisite marble interiors, where his body lies in state - like Mao in Tian’anmen Square.

North Korean society is organized into groups. Citizens rarely do anything alone, and there is no concept of pluralism. Self-esteem and personal confidence come from conformity and compatibility with the Juche ideological framework.

The mass culture of North Korea is stunning due to its high level of coordination and the sheer numbers of participants in events such as the Arirang Games, the mass games spectacle involving over 100,000 performers — including 20,000 schoolchildren who form a human television.

Ironically, Pyongyang was the center of Korean Christianity prior to the Korean War, but currently religious freedom is limited to three Christian churches in the capital and a handful of state-run Buddhist temples. Pohyonsa, a Buddhist temple complex near Mt. Myohyang, is designated as #40 on the “national treasure” list. A vestige of once-flourishing Buddhism, the site is reminiscent of Holocaust memorials to extinct communities.

In the Hermit Kingdom, Juche trumps all.

- Ben Piven

Below is the video that HRW published in conjunction with journalist Brent Foster.

Worldfocus interviewed Diederik Lohman, the lead researcher for HRW’s report about the issue.

How does palliative care in India differ from palliative care in other countries?

Lohman: Palliative care itself isn’t really all that different. But what is really different is that in U.S. hospitals, it’s inconceivable that you wouldn’t have morphine. And in India, doctors aren’t trained to deal with pain and provide psycho-social support.

In many Indian hospitals, this is absent completely. The focus is on cure, and palliative care is basically just not a part of the equation. During our research, we spent a lot of time with patients who had not been able to access morphine in the early stages of their illnesses.

For Brent Foster’s multimedia piece, Human Rights Watch chose not to depict sick people who lack access to morphine. In your report, were you able to cover all sides of this story? What can you tell us about the group of people who lack access to palliative care?

Lohman: There are two reasons why we tried to interview people with a history of no access but who had then received morphine. The first reason is practical. If someone is in severe pain, you can’t interview them. You can’t really get more information from them about what exactly happened and what their doctors told them. And then there is the ethical reason. You ask people to tell you how bad their pain is and what the pain does to them — but you’re unable to offer them any help getting access to treatment!

We felt that it was better to talk to people who did have access to morphine. The consequences of that decision were that we talked to people who were relatively lucky. There are hundreds of thousands of people out there who aren’t that lucky.

What was the most difficult aspect of covering palliative care patients in South India? How were you affected emotionally?

Lohman: I interviewed a number of children who were terminally ill, and several of them died within weeks or months. Seeing children who are desperately ill and just want to be kids and play but have to be attached to machines and get really toxic medications, that’s a pretty tough thing to go through.

On the other end of the spectrum, we also worked with people who were providing palliative care and were some of the most compassionate people I have ever seen. It’s also very inspiring to see Indian doctors, nurses and social workers say this is just not acceptable that some people have to suffer from pain treatable with inexpensive medicine.

[Palliative care] is one of these things that brings up a lot of negative and positive emotion. You see some of the worst neglect but also see people commit themselves — beyond belief — to change the situation in their country.

What did the experience teach you about making palliative care more available in the U.S.?

Lohman: I think that, as a matter of principle, it should be available to be all those who need it. And I think that, in countries like the U.S., palliative care is available much more than for patients in India.

But that doesn’t mean that the system we have in the U.S. is perfect. There are always going to be groups of patients who somehow fall outside the scope of services available. One of the things that we see in medicine around the world is that, with the advent of increasingly sophisticated diagnostic tools and increasingly powerful medications, the focus is so much on prolonging life and on defying death.

There are a a lot of doctors who start seeing sick people as having illnesses inside a body and don’t pay attention to the well-being of the individual. The focus is on curing the individual and not on quality of life.

Though sometimes neglected, it’s really important for health care systems in the U.S. to keep in mind the quality of life for patients even as they’re going through curative treatment. Medicine has to have a human face. It’s often a discipline dominated by machines and medication — without thinking about the human who is the host of the disease.

The Maldives is made up of over 1,000 tiny islands, all of which sit only several feet above sea level. Photo: Megan Thompson

Megan Thompson, a Worldfocus producer, is traveling around the world to report on climate change’s effects on small islands. Read her post about Grenada and Antigua here.

President Mohamed Nasheed of the Maldives has made a lot of international headlines lately. While on a global crusade to call the world’s attention to the effects of climate change on his low-lying island nation of 103,000 people, Nasheed has delivered impassioned speeches at the UN and held a cabinet meeting back at home – underwater.

But what many people may not know is that behind President Nasheed’s emotional pleas and publicity stunts is an incredible story of his rise to power here.

Almost exactly one year ago, the Maldives held its first democratic election. For 30 years, the country was ruled by the autocratic regime of President Maumoon Abdul Gayoon, who repressed the opposition by banning political parties and jailing anyone who challenged him.

President Nasheed was one of those challengers. A journalist and human rights activist, he was imprisoned repeatedly, and allegedly tortured, for his constant criticism of the government. But then in 2005, the People’s Majlis (the Maldivian Parliament) voted to allow opposition parties. And after years of agitation, detention and exile, Nasheed and vice presidential candidate Dr. Mohammed Waheed Hassan, himself in exile for 16 years, ran and won in 2008 - finally bringing democracy to the Maldives.

“Male” — The Maldivian capital of Malé sits about six feet above sea level.

It’s truly one of the newest democracies in the world, and you get the sense that people here are still getting used to it, or don’t quite believe it’s actually happened at all. Most Maldivians we approached were hesitant to talk politics. But some expressed great support for the new government and its work on human rights, good governance and climate change. The locals we spoke to on Guraidhoo Island – a tiny island 40 minutes by speedboat but a world away from the capital of Malé – were more skeptical. Many still support the former president and told us they weren’t convinced that anything had really changed.

That’s not what some on the outside think. Just last week came the news that the Maldives jumped an incredible 53 places to number 51 in the Reporters Without Borders’ Worldwide Press Freedom Index. So today’s pesky Maldivian reporters – as President Nasheed once was – should now be able to write without the threat of being tossed in prison.

While in Malé, we were lucky to meet with Vice President Hassan. Conversation about climate change strayed briefly to his nation’s new democracy. Dr. Hassan’s joy was palpable as he spoke about his transformed nation and he pointed out that before the transition, he wouldn’t have been able to sit down with a group of journalists like us without getting into big trouble. He said that the greatest thing that has come from the change is the “freedom from fear.”

Dr. Hassan and President Nasheed have made climate change a central priority, and will convene an international summit next month in the Maldives to discuss the issue in the run-up to the important Copenhagen talks in December. Their predecessor, President Gayoom, does deserve credit for sounding the warning bell many years ago on the issue. But there’s a big difference now. When President Nasheed talks, the world knows they are listening not just to his voice, but to the voices, and the will, of the Maldivian people who elected him.

- Megan Thompson

Watch Worldfocus’ signature video on Sufism in Morocco: An unusual weapon in the war against extremism.

Morocco owes its image of a modern Muslim nation to Sufism, a spiritual and tolerant Islamic tradition that goes back to the first generations of Muslims and has sustained the religious, social and cultural cohesion of Moroccan society for centuries. Sufism provides answers to some of the most complex issues in the contemporary Muslim world, where youth comprise the majority of the population.

Most Moroccans, young or old, practice one form of Sufism or another. As a deep component of the Moroccan identity, Sufism absorbs all members of society, regardless of age, gender, social status or political orientation.

Moroccan youth are increasingly drawn to Sufism because of its tolerance, its fluid interpretation of the Qur’an, its rejection of fanaticism and its embrace of modernity. Young men and women find in the Sufi principles of “beauty” and “humanity” a balanced lifestyle that allows them to enjoy arts, music and love without having to abandon their spiritual and religious obligations.

Sufi orders exist throughout Morocco. They organize regular gatherings to pray, chant and debate timely topics of social and political importance, ranging from the protection of the environment and social charity to the war on drugs and the threat of terrorism.

Moreover, Sufi gatherings inspire young people to engage in interfaith dialogue, highlighting the universal values Islam shares with Christianity and Judaism - such as the pursuit of happiness, love of one’s family, tolerance of racial and religious differences, and the promotion of peace.

Combined, Sufi seminars, chants and trances provide millions of Moroccans with a social medium where the fusion of the sacred and the secular, the soul and the body, and the local and the universal is both possible and enjoyable.

I recently asked Ahmed Kostas, an expert on Sufism and director at the Moroccan Ministry of Religious Affairs in Rabat, why this old spiritual tradition is so popular among modern youth.

“Progress and change,” he noted, “are basic tenets of Sufi philosophy.”

Sufis distance themselves from fundamentalists, whose vision of Islam is a strict and Utopian emulation of the Prophet Muhammad and his companions, by placing great emphasis on the community’s adaptation to the concerns and priorities of modern times. Sufis neither condemn unveiled women nor censure modern means of entertainment. For them, the difference between virtue and vice is determined on the basis of intent, not appearances.

Sufism is so diffuse in Moroccan culture that its role cannot be properly understood if reduced to a sect or shrine; it pervades even those musical trends labeled as “modern” or “Western.” Rai, as well as Moroccan versions of hip hop and rap, may seem too earthly or too sensual to be associated with Sufism, yet they draw on Sufi poetry to sing the primordial essence of the human body, the virtues of simplicity, and the healing gifts of Sufi saints, such as Sidi Abderrahman Majdub, Sidi Ahmed Tijani, and Sidi Boumediene-spiritual masters revered by their peers and disciples for having attained spiritual union with God during their earthly lives.

The impact of Sufism on youth culture is more explicit in the lyrics of the urban band Nass Al Ghiwan (pictured above)and the Saharan Gnawa musicians. These two groups have profoundly shaped Moroccan popular music since the 1970s. Ghiwan songs, informed by the hippie style of bands like the Rolling Stones and Pink Floyd, inspire many listeners to a physical response called shatha, a Sufi word that Moroccans use for modern dance.

Gnawa musicians, the descendants of African slaves brought to Morocco between the 12th and 17th centuries, produce a similar effect. Their music is a mix of religious lyrics deeply rooted in the oral tradition of sub-Saharan Africa and melancholic melodies reminiscent of American jazz and blues. The Gnawa performance centers on a spinning body and a high-pitched voice, rhyming poetic verses with Sufi chants in Arabic such as “There is no god but God, and Muhammad is his Messenger.” These same words are terrifying when they come from the mouth of the terrorist, but lift the soul when they are sung by pious Muslims, Gnawa and other Sufi-inspired musicians.

Even Fnaire (pictured above), the most recent hip hop band from Marrakech, identifies itself as a blend of Moroccan Sufi tradition and American rap.

In addition to Moroccans, thousands of young men and women from Europe, America and Africa flock to sacred music festivals organized every summer by Sufi movements throughout Morocco, to sing and celebrate their enthusiasm for life and their commitment to the universal values of peace. The scene at these festivals completely refutes the kind of image that extremists seek to convey to Muslim youth.

It is this fusion of Sufism and modernity that produces a unique aesthetic experience, which is attractive to Moroccan youth who reject extremism and uphold values of a shared humanity.

Worldfocus correspondent Edie Magnus and producer Ara Ayer interviewed Velasco in Santiago in July.  His interview will be featured in several Worldfocus stories on Chile, including Chile squirrels away copper fortunes and spends prudently. This is part of our ongoing series looking at how other nations tackle complex policy issues.

In this wide-ranging discussion,  Velasco speaks about Chile’s privatization of social security, its past and present economic policy, and the lessons advisors have learned from economic cycles of the past.

Mohammad Al-Kassim is an associate producer at Worldfocus. He blogs here about the popularity of soccer in Egypt.

Football, or soccer as it’s called in the U.S., is considered to be one of the most popular sports in the world. Millions of people make time during the month-long World Cup — which takes place every four years — to watch the matches.

I grew up playing football as a kid in Kuwait and Jerusalem. We kids played on any vacant lot we could find, in our neighborhood or our school’s dusty field. I have many scars and a few broken bones from playing the game. Football is a game without any class separation. For me and my friends, football was and still is the cheapest game out there.

My best childhood memories are those spent with my father — who was an avid football fan himself — watching the game. It was the only time he would set aside his worries and be transformed into a kid again.

Most nations around the world (with the possible exception of the U.S.) take the game very seriously.

In 1969, following the second North American qualifying round for the 1970 FIFA World Cup, Honduras and El Salvador engaged in a brief war following their intense soccer match. It wasn’t the only reason — but the tensions surrounding the game didn’t help. 

Egyptians are no exception; it is no secret to how much Egyptians love their local football teams, especially the Ahli, and Zamalek. But their passion and devotion to their national team borders on insanity.

The Egyptian national football team’s win in the African Cup last year sent thousands of flag waving Egyptians into the streets hugging and kissing each other.

Football brings a lot of emotions out in people — emotions that they themselves may not have known they had. It’s about national pride and identity. It’s when small countries show off their muscles, playing the “bully” big countries.

Currently, Egypt is hosting the FIFA U-20 World Cup, where its team is playing in the tournament. The regular World Cup, which will be held in South Africa,  is still a year away — so passionate football fans, especially the Egyptians, are getting their football fix by watching the under-20 tournament.

This story from Al Arabiya TV caught my eye.  It’s about a wedding that almost didn’t happen because it was scheduled for the same night Egypt was playing in that under-20 tournament.  The bride and groom found a novel solution.

I’ve translated it from Arabic.

Please view the original post to see the video.

In this extended interview, he discusses culture, costs and making a commitment to health care.

Explore the top film-producing nations in this interactive feature. Click on a country to learn about its film industry.

Below, read a Q&A on the growth of the Nigerian film industry.

* Data courtesy of the U.N. and UNESCO. Read more.

Jamie Meltzer, director of the documentary “Welcome to Nollywood,” joins Worldfocus to discuss Nigeria’s blooming film industry.

Watch a clip from the film, in which Nigerians discuss the rise of Nollywood:

Worldfocus: Films from so-called “Bollywood” and “Hollywood” often have distinct styles or themes. Is this true of “Nollywood” as well? Are particular styles/themes/genres popular?

Jamie Meltzer: Well, the interesting thing about Nollywood is that the genres and style keep evolving. It’s a very young industry (15 years or so), so there is no prototypical Nollywood film or genre. At first, films depicting cults and occult activity were popular, and an explosion of those kinds of films flooded the market, and then interest died down due to overexposure. Then, “epic” films — period films about tribes and West African history — were popular, and then the market was flooded, then interested waned…then love films, then action films. It is always in flux.

Worldfocus: How do the production and distribution of films in Nigeria differ from the U.S.?

Meltzer: Very different. Nigeria has the first all-digital film industry — all films are shot, edited and distributed through digital means. This is an industry that exists because of the democratizing effects of technology — cheaper and better video cameras and desktop editing systems allowed this industry to start and thrive. The productions are generally done on the cheap ($20,000 - 60,000 U.S.) and put out quite quickly. They are distributed through home video — DVDs and VCDs — through markets throughout Lagos and Nigeria. For a number of reasons, theaters aren’t popular in Nigeria, so people watch these at home mostly.

Worldfocus: Can you describe the culture surrounding movies?

Meltzer: There is a strong celebrity culture — a few stars that are known throughout the country and that are immensely popular and command large salaries. People love to discuss the films, and I found that they provide a real service to those in the diaspora, linking them to their home culture in a profound way. You can find Nigerian films in African and West African markets across the world. They have also spawned a host of imitators in other African countries, which is great because the success of Nollywood is pushing other nations and cultures to get into the act of making films by, for, and about themselves — a real antidote to the monoculture that often results from the disproportionate impact of American pop culture and Hollywood.

Worldfocus: As the U.S. film industry wrestles with the Internet and other changes, what challenges is the Nigerian film industry facing right now and what future do you envision for it?

Meltzer: As an all-digital industry, Nollywood is ahead of the U.S. in many respects, and even though most people in Nigeria have Internet access — though Internet cafes, etc. — there isn’t much of an online viewership for Nollywood, but maybe that will change.

- Katie Combs

(View full post to see video)

State of Mind, a 2004 prize-winning British documentary funded in part by Worldfocus parent company WNET, follows the lives of Arirang Games performers and their families.

Worldfocus discussed the meaning of the Arirang Games with two North Korea experts: Charles Armstrong, a history professor and director of Columbia University’s Center for Korean Studies and Leon Sigal, director of the Social Science Research Council’s Northeast Asia Cooperative Security Project.

What are the historical roots of Arirang?

Charles Armstrong: Mass choreographed spectacles are not unknown in the West. They were popular in the middle of the 20th century in totalitarian and militarized states, such as pre-World War Two Japan, Nazi Germany, the Soviet Union, and China. These countries had a very big influence on the formation of North Korean culture. But North Korea has taken it to a whole new level of size, precision, and spectacle.

The “Arirang” song is the most well-known folk song from Korean history. It’s the unofficial national anthem for both Koreas. But when [North Koreans] use that name, they’re demonstrating that it’s not just a North Korean song - that it’s an all-Korean song demonstrating the unity of the Korean people. It originally became an emblem of nationalism during Japanese colonial rule from 1910 to 1945. The very first Korean movie from 1927 was called “Arirang.” This is mass, modernized folk culture.

Is Arirang popular culture?

Leon Sigal: Yes, absolutely. Pop culture in societies like ours tends to be generated more from the bottom up than from the state down. Yet Arirang clearly involves mass participation. It’s hard for an outsider to gauge how much enthusiasm is generated, but there’s definitely some genuine enthusiasm.

Why does North Korea invest so much time and resources in this mass gymnastics performance?

Charles Armstrong: It’s a way of demonstrating the solidarity of the North Korean people and their common sense of purpose with the regime. It also demonstrates the discipline and skill of entertainers and dancers through the glorification of the state, the leaders, and the system as a whole.

Leon Sigal: Arirang has a number of different elements. The appearance of mass participation is important for regimes like this. That’s a way to keep people happy in a society that’s pretty gray and grim. It also keeps people busy when they aren’t fully employed. Arirang is more than a public spectacle. It really is a mass mobilization event. The event is the one-party state’s showcasing a different face to the world. This is not just these school kids - but thousands of adults too. Every day, they’re practicing for these events at stadiums and sports centers in Pyongyang and beyond.

Why are Western tourists only allowed to tour the country during Arirang?

Charles Armstrong: This is a way of making a lot of money. Foreigners pay quite a bit to attend. Also, there’s been a shift in how they’ve been dealing with the outside world. Since the Clinton visit, they’ve been more open to the south and toward the West in general. North Koreans have learned that outisders coming in - from both friendly and not-so-friendly countries - are very impressed with their mass entertainment. The great leader himself has been known to attend on occasion - not every year but once every couple of years.

Leon Sigal: They like to put their best face forward, and Arirang is North Korea’s show piece.

Are the games successful in achieving their goal of mobilizing support for the Juche idea?

Charles Armstrong: One of the most common North Korean slogans is “il shim tang gyol” - which means “one heart united.” The Arirang Games are more for foreigners, but there are other mass games during anniversary ceremonies. Arirang creates a certain political reality of indivisible unity. When people from liberal western countries go there, it can be frightening. Although North Korea is a totalitarian society, it’s not expansive and aggressive.

Leon Sigal: It is successful. The participants appear happy to take part in the event. Arirang festival days are nice days. The government even tries to get outsiders to compete. It is also used to send political messages: when Madeleine Albright attended in 2000, she witnessed the flip-card unit’s depiction of a Taepodong missile launch.

- Ben Piven

In this extended interview — recorded in May, prior to the crackdown following the disputed election — Iranian students discuss how they bypass filters to find music and films, both online and in shops on the streets. They also share their ambivalence about the prevalence of Western popular culture in Iran.

“Rio, the Marvelous City and the Olympic City in 2016 - For the first time, a South American city will host the Olympic Games,” proclaimed O Globo, in Rio.

Shouts of “God is Brazilian” are sure to be echoing throughout Brazil today, as Rio de Janeiro beat out three other major cities — Tokyo, Madrid and Chicago — to host the 2016 Summer Olympics. The decision, which will make Brazil the first South American country to host an Olympics, was also a political victory for Brazilian President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva, who made a personal pitch to the Olympic committee Friday morning, just as U.S. President Barack Obama did.

Crowds in Rio danced and celebrated along the beachfront as the announcement was made.

Although doubts remain as to Rio’s ability to handle chronic problems such as lack of infrastructure, violence and pollution in time for the Games, most Brazilians, including Worldfocus producer Channtal Fleischfresser, were optimistic that the Olympics would bring jobs and prestige to the city.