Communicating Afghanistan Through Photos

Getting the world to listen through photos is a big part of Massoud Hossaini’s work as a photographer in Afghanistan. Even in a moment where he receives compliments and awards from around the world- including the Pulitzer prize– for his tragic photo “Heartbreak”, his message remains the same – the world must know what is happening here, because what happens in Afghanistan always has and always will spill beyond its borders and reach us in some way, no matter where we live on the planet.  Photography, media, conflict, beauty, and art; a followup on a conversation that started on a rooftop in Kabul back in 2010- we spend the hour with photographer and citizen of the world, Massoud Hossaini.

Massoud Hossaini – Amsterdam 2012

Every Move I Make

I step onto a metro or tram in Amsterdam and I swipe my transport card. This card has my photo and an RFID chip with personal information about who I am and where I live.  I swipe the card again upon exit, as per the rules, which goes onto a database that contains information about the duration of my ride, the cost, and locations.

I go buy bread at my favorite local bakery and the sign next to the cash register reads “debit only”, so i swipe my bank card.  The organic supermarket has the same policy, again, after I get the groceries I need, the card gets swiped. Again, somewhere a record is kept about what store I went to and how much I spent.

As a dedicated podcasting journalist, I am also considered a one-person business in the eyes of the government, a freelancer. Like people  all over the world, when I get paid there is a record of it. When I file taxes, they want to see my bank account, how much went in, how much went out, from where, to where.  Despite the fact that in my line of work these numbers are all very tiny, the tax authorities still shower me with paperwork, regulations, and warnings, every year.

There’s nothing revolutionary or really underhanded about the reality Im describing to you… this is regular life in much of the developed world. This system exists for a reason (or reasons) and to my knowledge there is no real alternative other than behavior that would require me to frantically hide from authorities.

That old cliché comes to mind whenever I step back and look at how this all works “If you have nothing to hide then you have nothing to fear.” This is part of the logic that has helped usher in the era of intrusive but convenient automation and monitoring.  Even writing these words means I risk being seen as a cynic or wasting my time trying to critique a cultural shift that will not be reversed.

But to be perfectly honest, no matter how many cards I swipe, no matter how many records and receipts I hand over the the authorities, and no matter how little I have to hide, the poking and the prodding never ceases.  It is all supposed to be here to serve the public and help create a stable civic life, but often the system seems to be more focused on beating us down more than building us up.

 

Moving Closer to Ethical Mobile Phones
photo courtesy of Fairphone.org

In the summer of 2011 we learned of the fairphone mission; to make the world’s first ethically responsible mobile phone. We spoke about the challenges, the steps, the people and places in the world that would be involved. Now, many months later, we revisit fairphone to get an update and hear about the interesting developments and ongoing initiatives. My guest and guide on this podcast is Bas van Abel of the Waag Society, who has been part of the fairphone initiative since the early days.

We get into:

  • Battery
  • Miners
  • Congo
  • Open Design
  • Urban Mining

They Felt Ignored

Timbuktu photo by Emilio Labrador / flickr

Over the past weeks the stories have trickled in of events unfolding in Mali. In a rush to fill a knowledge void, many of us do quick research using sources from the past and present regarding this West African nation which in the 1300’s was an empire that controlled the very lucrative precious resource trade in that region. As a standard liberal democracy of today, it was thought of as a good example of a nation. But just as we so often hear from around the world over the past decade, a coup emerges kicking out the president, and revealing that in fact – things are not ok in this ancient land. A chain-reaction of events kicks off, with not only a military group taking over the presidency, but a declaration of independence by an ethnic group in the north, which is of course followed by plentiful speculation about ties to terrorist organization and other possible horror stories.

The frequently repeated line in the press, when attempting to explain the frustration in the country and the reasons the north broke away- they felt ignored by the central government. Others, who support the coup, felt ignored as the government worked hard to appease international funding schemes and please foreign investors (particularly banks). Whether any of these reports are accurate or not, when it comes to describing how people feel in different parts of Mali – it is a familiar phrase – they felt ignored.

How often, throughout the world, despite all the communication and representation that is possible, do people say these same words when describing government. These systems are put in place, often by people who are long gone, and among their descendants – there are those who feel ignored or wronged somehow, by the very group that is supposed to address them. Some will point to economics. Some will point to regional conflicts and trauma. Then there’s religion and ethnicity. The list goes on and on when it comes to why. In a time where there is so much evidence of what we have in common across borders; needs, concerns, goals, maybe even values – we still manage to have groups who feel so ignored they would take up arms, put up borders, and make a new country despite all the hardships that may follow that decision.  How did we do that, as a species, as a planet, how did this almost conspiratorial scenario take shape over and over again in various forms across the world? We seem to lose, rather than gain, the ability to live together in the same area, country, or region, regardless of differences.

While research about the planet and our history can and does reveal so many commonalities between people, people have created a reality that manages to divide us up in ever increasing ways. As a once famous fictitious kid on a Baltimore street corner once stated, “World going one way, people another.”

Beneath the Facade of Tbilisi

For Levan Asabashvili, the key to fixing Tbilisi is working on the small but significant issues to eventually change the big picture. When he looks at the crumbling facades in old Tbilisi, he sees a reality that can be changed, and a city worth saving. His collective, Urban Reactor, are one group of Georgians that have dedicated themselves to this mission, with full knowledge of the social and historical obstacles that must be overcome.

On one fine Saturday afternoon in March, Levan and I sat down in Gudiashvili Square to talk about the urban challenges Georgia faces.

What I Didn’t Tell You About Tbilisi

Its a Saturday morning and the sun is piercing the sheer white curtains in the massive windows next to this unfamiliar bed I find myself in. The screaming female voice in a language I do not recognize feels like its coming from under my bed. I thought I had dreamt it, but now seemingly awake, I hear a young male voice responding to what sounds like the stern words of a mother to a son. Above my head, the loud and unsteady footsteps of what sounds like a giggling toddler. Behind all this, just outside my window, someone attempts to start an engine that sounds like it is not willing to start, over and over. Pause. Repeat. It sounds like all of these people are in my room this morning. But they’re not. – This is old Tbilisi. Where the walls are thin and secrets are hard to keep. You may think you live alone, but you don’t really.

I step outside and Im almost run over by a 10 year old on her bicycle. She smiles as she turns to avoid me, a young sister runs behind her looking like she wants a turn to ride now. The corner grocer is chatting with an old lady, they pause to watch me walk by, both probably deciding Im another one of those occasional tourists that wanders through to look at the leaning houses and abandoned churches. When I arrive at Guriashvili Square, the old men are all huddled around the tables, I can barely see the dominoes on the table. The square is surrounded by some of the most beautiful abandoned buildings Ive ever seen, some of them decorated with political graffiti about democracy and property. Looking to the windows of a new hippy café, I can see they’re cooking up some vegetarian friendly food. I step inside and immediately get into conversation with the young bearded owner, yes this place is new, yes, it used to be a nightclub. Yes, someone got shot here but I don’t know the full story, it was in the crazy 90’s, everything was different then.

After finishing some of the finest healthy food I’ve ever had, I make my way up towards the TV tower. On my way there and back I make sure to take wrong turns. I find myself in people’s front yards and wandering through scary yet beautiful alleyways. When spotted, I just act like Im supposed to be there and I have no doubt in my mind where this alley leads me. The exact attitude I see in the face of other people I occasionally see along the way. A dad walking his daughter to school, a university student on his way to class, an old lady carrying plastic bags full of vegetables. I pass them all and soak in a sunny, normal day, in Georgia.

A good friend of mine who lives in Moscow tells me over a big Georgian dinner that night, “The great thing about Georgia, is that here you can taste real food, drink real wine.. everything has a more real flavor to it here.” I think about his words in every bite I take after that. There is definitely something to it, this genuine heart that the country has. As I wander home that night, I listen closely at the now hushed voices, Armenian, Georgian and other languages I can’t decipher, I can hear them all through the thin walls of these ancient homes. I smell the home cooked meals as I walk by the windows.

As far as national and international economics go, Georgia is said to be a dead end. But as far as life and its flavors go – Georgia is alive and well.