kenny hodgart


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Laying low in Ho Chi Minh City’s red light district

This article can also be read at Asia Times

I’ve stopped by one of the roadside bars on Bui Vien Street, where Steve, a proud Western Australian, is telling me what makes the girls in this part of Saigon so special. His mate has just nicked his scooter and driven off home on it, leaving Steve bereft of company. The girls, though. See, the thing is, they do everything, he says. Everything: they even kiss you.

Steve is feeling a bit emotional, as it happens. He has had to leave his girlfriend – on account of his wife, who is back home in Perth, not liking her. They would have split anyway, he confides, ruefully casting his cigarette end in the direction of a passing tide of bedraggled American youths. She was getting on a bit and he refused to give her what she wanted: a child.

Steve looks about 68, at a conservative estimate. It is with boyish delight, however, that he shows me the Zippo lighter gifted him by a stranger earlier in the day. “Exceptionally rare,” he remarks, allowing me to feel its weight. “Made in 1958.” I nudge the cap off, thumb the wheel and a flame licks the air between us. Steve looks positively touched. I drink my beer.

I hadn’t planned on hanging my hat in Ho Chi Minh City’s District 1, which my belated inquiries (Google search) reveal to be “notorious.” Motivated vaguely by nostalgia (for what, I’m not quite sure; when I was of backpacking age I stayed home like most people with no money), I’d simply wanted to slum it a bit after staying in a posh place in Hoi An at someone else’s expense the night before. Easier said than done.

I thought I knew what I was looking for on hotels.com – no rat-holes, nothing dirt-cheap, just somewhere spartan but characterful, with a touch of woodiness and that air of respectability that used to attach itself to all guesthouses in the lower arrondissements of Paris (an air that almost certainly concealed some far less decorous unknown). It seems you have to really lower the price bar for that kind of thing in modern-day Saigon, though: luxury accommodation starts at about US$40 a night. Spend a fraction more and you’re into Kubla Khan territory.

The room I have settled for, at US$15, is immaculate. Everything in it is brand new and of the sternest good quality. Cavernous ensuite bathroom included, it is about the size of my apartment in Hong Kong.

At check-in, I’d chatted to the owners’ daughter, an elfish, handsome girl of about 21. What sort of things would I be doing while in Ho Chi Minh City, she had asked me. As I was flying out the following evening and hadn’t done any research I supposed I would probably just wander around, I’d said, adding – a propos of her dubious silence – that my editor had instructed me to go and look at the War Remnants Museum.

Showing me how to get there on the map, she’d explained that the museum is a bit boring and that people of her generation never talk amongst themselves about the war, nor indeed of its remnants. Do older people never get upset about this lack of interest? Oh no, she’d insisted: they’re just delighted that Vietnam has so many young people – post-war baby-boomers – to do everything for them.

Where I come from, in Britain, I’d said, it’s the opposite; in fact, there are so many old British people that, to keep ourselves amused, we give them unlimited free bus travel then place bets on how many days it will take them to get home. Her look of reproach seemed laden with the suggestion that one must be more respectful of one’s elders, whatever their provenance.


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#HangAyazNizami is what comes of caving in to clerical rule

This article can also be read at Asia Times

What do you suppose is the correct response to angry religious people seeking to avenge injury visited on them by words (and sometimes cartoons)?

The Christian faith has its injunction to non-violence: “Unto him that smiteth thee on the one cheek offer also the other; and him that taketh away thy cloke forbid not to take thy coat also.” Jesus’ advice is variously interpreted as a call for meek submission or provocative defiance – which means that, like a great deal of what is found in religious texts, it can be used to support any number of courses of action, or non-action. There’s also the old “eye for an eye” passage, of course.

For its part, the secular West has tended to react to violence occasioned by members of its Muslim minority populations with a distinctly accommodating passivity. No, we will not re-publish drawings that are deemed offensive, even if by doing so we enlighten our readers. Yes, we will tread very carefully in what we say with regard to Islam and its prophet. And yes, we will continue to agree that it is “the religion of peace.” The brandishing of cheeks seems an altogether reckless business.

Last week, Canada passed a motion to criminalize Islamophobia. Critics say it reframes blasphemy as hate speech and enshrines the kind of clerical oversight of public discourse that prevails in the 57 member states of the Organization of Islamic Cooperation – a pact that has long campaigned against the “defamation of religion” in non-Muslim countries. (Several of those states, incidentally, uphold a mandatory death sentence for blasphemers and apostates.)

What, though, if an erosion of the commitment to free speech in the West actually made life worse for Muslim, or erstwhile Muslim, critics of Islam? That’s certainly the view taken by the activist and commentator Maryam Namazie, who – as an Iranian-born secularist – belongs to a minority within a minority in her adopted UK. In her newsletter for the Council of Ex-Muslims of Britain this week, she wrote that: “The normalization of de jure or de facto blasphemy laws and accusations of Islamophobia when religion is criticized have created a climate where Islamic states feel free to persecute freethinkers with impunity … It’s crucial that we defend blasphemers and apostates unequivocally and ensure that freedom of conscience and expression are upheld for all – believers and nonbelievers alike.”

She was, in fact, referring to the case of Ayaz Nizami, a Pakistani scholar of Islam and blogger who happens to have renounced religion and is now suffering for it: on March 24 he was arrested and charged with blasphemy. In a country that is a signatory to all manner of bons mots about human rights and freedom of conscience, but where some 30,000 gathered last year to mourn the murderer of a governor who had called for the pardoning of a Christian woman sentenced to death for allegedly insulting the Prophet Muhammad, he also now faces the death penalty.

Nizami’s plight has, ironically enough, been brought to global attention partly on account of a trending Twitter hashtag (#HangAyazNizami) about him. Ironic why? Because the Pakistani government earlier in March requested that Twitter and Facebook assist it in identifying and weeding out those suspected of blasphemy online. Twitter’s rules, meanwhile, state that users “may not promote violence against or directly attack or threaten other people on the basis of race, ethnicity, national origin, sexual orientation, gender, gender identity, religious affiliation, age, disability, or disease. We also do not allow accounts whose primary purpose is inciting harm toward others …” Accounts have, in the past, been suspended over remarks considered Islamophobic; as yet, however, no Pakistanis have been banned for tweeting their encouragement to Nizami’s jailers.

The Pakistani government’s entreaties to American social media companies are just one strand of its recent assault on atheism. Since the turn of the year, it has arrested or abducted, and tortured, multiple writers and activists and called for citizens to become informants on the “enemies of Islam.”

It has curtailed freedom of speech and expression offline and on, and – at a time when the country’s elites are worried about Pakistan’s image abroad and reputation as a sponsor of jihad – it has worked itself into a froth against “liberal secular extremism,” branding atheists as terrorists.

In most functioning countries, the right to religion generally comes, as Namazie puts it, with “a corresponding right to be free from religion.” When confronted by it, one is free to turn the other cheek, or worse. Perhaps it’s time we showed those trying to win that freedom in the Muslim world a little more respect. Without more of them, there’s going to be a lot more avenging of injury.