optimistontour.com
  • Archives
  • October18th

    If it wasn’t for the armed soldiers observing me and my companions as we step onto the jetty, I could be in paradise. The sky is a pure shimmering blue, the sand underfoot is soft and fine, the sea a crystal clear aquamarine teeming with life. A light breeze rustles through the palm trees, which offer shelter from the sweltering sky.

    Welcome to Paradise

    Welcome to Paradise

    This is the military island of Girifushi and the soldiers looking at us, with a mix of slight disdain and bemusement, are likely ex-employees of the dictatorial regime who tortured the man we are all here to see. Later this week I will ask Mohamed Nasheed how he feels about being in charge of a military and a police force that used to oppress him – and his reply is typically surprising and positive.

    Today the government of the Maldives will hold an underwater cabinet meeting in an attempt to draw the world’s attention to the perils of climate change – and position the Maldives as a front line state in the battle against global warming. I’m the odd one out. Everyone else here seems to be either a journalist (I meet cheery correspondents from Good Morning America and Al Jazeera) or an activist (like the fabulously named Susannah and Ya’acov Darling-Kahn who are behind sixbillionreasons.org – and who are also using their trip to the Maldives to take a 20 year overdue honeymoon). TV Maldives has turned a lagoon on the other side of the island into an underwater studio. Three metres underwater cameras are trained on a sub-surface arrangement of tables and national flags, carefully positioned around an outcrop of coral. In a tent on the shore TV executives hustle and bustle around banks of audio-visual equipment that feed them images and sound from the bottom of the lagoon. Their expressions betray excitement and national pride along with what I can only describe as the ‘I hope we don’t cock this up’ look.

    Most people here will take in proceedings from the shore. After months of careful e-mailing with the president’s PR liaison (the impossibly youthful looking Paul Roberts) I’m lucky enough to be allowed to see the action from the water.

    We’re briefed in the press area where everyone seems good natured except for a couple of press photographers who are demanding access to the water too. “Taking pictures of journalists is of no interest to me,” exclaims one grumpily, “so I must be allowed closer”. Later, as we bob about in the water while the president addresses the TV cameras amassed on the shore the same person will try and manhandle me out of his path saying, “if you’re not shooting can you just get out the way?” I’d say there are about 100 people on this island with one form of camera or another and only these two are being arsey. Paul later tells me these same photographers have turned up at the last minute and demanded to be allowed access to the event ‘because they had flown a long way’.

    I’m kitted out with a mask, snorkel and fins while being briefed by the man who will be our escort in the water. Because none of the cabinet ministers will be able to talk during the event they are all following a printed ‘order of service’, which will guide them through their headline grabbing meeting.

    1.    President signals OK
    2.    Cabinet reply OK
    3.    President signals LOOK SLATE
    4.    Cabinet open manual page 3
    5.    President signals statement OK
    6.    Cabinet signal statement OK
    7.    President signs statement
    8.    Cabinet pass the slate one by one
    9.    President signals cabinet ascent

    …and so on.

    Dictatorship, Nasheed-style

    Dictatorship, Nasheed-style

    The statement in question, to be delivered taken to the Copenhagen Climate Summit in December, is printed on an underwater slate and calls for nations around the world to cut greenhouse gas emissions.  I’m guessing everyone’s confident that the statement is OK. A late amendment motion could be tricky.

    I’m taken to the waters edge and we dive in. It’s deliciously warm. As I come to the surface I’m struck by how incongruous and just brilliant my life at this moment is. I may be writing a book about the future, but right now I feel incredible. I know that when my time comes and my life flashes before me I will remember this. I’m grinning from ear to ear. Even the grumbling photographers who’ve managed to intimidate Paul into allowing them in the water make me smile. It’s strangely comic to observe them cajole and hassle our escort, demanding to be taken closer still to the meeting below us. It takes a special kind of skill to be fed up in these circumstances. It’s almost admirable. (In defence of the photographers I will later see their work and have to admit that being grumpy hasn’t affected either’s ability to take a fine picture).

    I swim around the perimeter of the meeting avoiding scuba-clad cameramen and the wires that trail into the lagoon from the shore. It’s a bizarre experience, precisely because it is in many ways so, well, ordinary. Cabinet ministers pass the statement to each other in an orderly procession of aquatic cordiality, occasionally handing an waterproof marker to the person next to them who has just spend the last second or two looking around for theirs in the underwater equivalent of fumbling in your jacket. The familiarity of the exercise, I realise, is the thing that will make the event great TV. It is both ordinary and extraordinary simultaneously. Who isn’t intrigued by a government meeting taking place underwater? More people will tune in to watch this than they would to see someone battling a huge shark. Battling huge sharks is within the parameters of what we expect from the underwater world. Having a sit down to sign a governmental accord is not. It’s a brilliant piece of PR. (Hill and Knowlton take note). I warrant it’s the only time you’ll see an entire cabinet dressed in rubber and it’s not something to do with the Tory’s.

    "Have we watered this down too much?"

    "Have we watered this down too much?"

    The fish seem largely unimpressed, darting around the coral as if having a bunch of cabinet ministers, a president, a brace of support divers, underwater camerapeople and some office furniture in the water is an everyday occurrence.

    Everyone sticks to the order of service and there are no new motions, or dissent from the assembled rubber-clad dignitaries. Given that most of them had to take diving lessons to be here I suspect that the majority are keen just to get through the thing without drowning or making a tit of themselves.

    The meeting lasts about 20 minutes. The ministers raise from their seats and begin to swim back to the lagoon’s edge. I find myself swimming just to the right and slightly above the president. He gazes my way and I must look startled because he makes the underwater signal for ‘Are you OK?’ I respond to assure him I am. I’m more than OK, but there isn’t a hand signal for ‘Bloody hell! I’m at an underwater cabinet meeting in the Maldives! How cool is that?!

    The party reaches the shore and I look up. A myriad of microphones and camera lenses stare back. The world’s press is clamouring for the best vantage point and is launching into a barrage of questions which Nasheed answers from the water, being careful to link the threat he sees to the Maldives with that faced by the rest of the world. There’s also some good-natured banter about the benefit of having a cabinet meeting where none of your ministers can talk, and whether underwater meetings might become a regular feature of the Nasheed administration. “The whole idea is that this doesn’t become a regular feature,” he replies.

    It’s odd to be in the middle of international news event. I feel out of place bobbing around behind the president as the sun sparkles off the water, with possibly the biggest smile I’ve had on my face since I started this trip. It’s a delicious mix of politics, paradise and the thought ‘how the hell did I end up here?’ Subsequently my mug finds it way into the newspapers and websites of the world. There’s the president, patiently answering questions, and just behind him a grinning loon from New Cross, South East London who probably couldn’t answer the question ‘what is your name?’ at this moment.

    Optimist infiltrates government. (Picture: Associated Press)

    Optimist infiltrates government. (Picture: Associated Press)

    As we climb out of the lagoon I conclude that not nearly enough cabinet meetings are held underwater. On the short walk to lunch the president is waylaid numerous times by journalists eager to grab some face time with him. I’m relaxed because my interview, scheduled for tomorrow, has been in the diary for months. Or so I thought.

    Over lunch Paul, the PR liaison starts to use worryingly vague and expectation-limiting language. I’ll ‘probably’ get my interview ‘in the next two days’, it’s ‘usually’ not a problem, although the president ‘has a very full diary’. My confidence is not bolstered when Paul suggests it might be ‘helpful’ to say hello to president now ‘just so he knows who you are.’ Paul introduces me in a way that gives the strong impression this is the first time he’s told the Nasheed anything about me. I compliment the president on the day’s success and say I am looking forward to our interview tomorrow. He looks confused. ‘Are we having an interview?’ he asks.

    In Paul’s defence, today has been a huge media exercise, perhaps the biggest international coverage in the news media the Maldives has ever had. The man from New Cross is no doubt way down the agenda, but nonetheless, I’ve flown over 5,000 miles for the single purpose of interviewing a man who it seems I may not get to talk to beyond 30 seconds of presidential bemusement and one underwater hand signal each. I express my concerns to Paul who assures me my interview will take place. ‘Call me tomorrow morning,’ he says. ‘We’ll see how things are looking then.’ None of this has a ring of certainty about it. A local journalist informs me that ‘this kind of thing isn’t uncommon out here. You’ve kind of got to roll with it.’ It seems like good counsel, not that I have much option, but if the situation prevails I may find myself having to adopt techniques recently showcased by arsey photographers… For now however, the sun in shining, lunch is good, people are smiling. There are worse places to be.

  • October17th

    Malé, Capital of the Maldives

    Malé, Capital of the Maldives

    I’ve arrived in the Maldivian capital of Malé, the only capital to occupy its own island. Other capitals can be found on islands, but there are no others that are islands. Its two square kilometres host somewhere between 90,000 and 150,000 people (definite figures are hard to come by). Even by lowest estimates this makes Malé one of the most densely occupied cities on the planet. In stark contrast to spacious whole-island resorts for which the country is famed (and which provide a huge proportion of its earnings) Malé is a warren of tight streets, filled with the buzzing of thousands of scooters.

    With limited street lighting I’m amusingly confused several times this evening by what I imagine to be the twin beams of car headlights approaching, which suddenly diverge as two scooters pass either side of me. I think I need to avoid a car and go to make a move only for said vehicle to apparently split in two in an attempt to make sure I have no escape (except possibly from this mortal coil). Nobody wears helmets and most people drive with the sort of reckless abandon that could make one reflect kindly on Tracy Wemmet’s skills behind the wheel. I say ‘could’ advisedly. (If you’ve been keeping up with the blog you’ll remember Tracy as the afterlife-seeking PR representative for thin film solar panel manufactures Konarka in Boston).

    Just as the contrast between the spacious resorts and the teeming metropolis of Malé is stark, so is that between the wealth of visitors and native Maldivians. As the man I’ve come see (newly elected president Mohammed Nasheed) says:

    “We have a situation in the Maldives where you have a very poor 3rd world island which is next to a very rich European island.” One of his initiatives to address this disparity is to encourage resorts to link their economies with neighbouring islands by buying labour and supplies.

    Nature’s most abundant greenhouse gas, water vapour, makes itself known in the Maldives. The air enjoyed by the Maldivian archipelago is humid, keeping the nights hot and muggy. By the time I’ve spent an hour getting lost in the city’s streets I’m covered in a thin film of perspiration.

    By the docks I find hundreds of boats, many offloading strong smelling catches of huge yellow fin tuna. The tuna are dumped unceremoniously into pots with their heads down (and thus obscured) giving them the comic appearance of a strange cross between a cactus and a hat stand.

    Fishy Cactus Hatstand

    Fishy Cactus Hatstand

    In a tiled hall I witness the fish being gutted and prepared for sale. Huge knives expertly gouge out lidless eyes, heads are ripped off, spines are removed in single, swift and well practiced movements by men smoking cigarettes and made indifferent to their butchery through repetition. I guess ripping the head of a tuna becomes as mundane as processing an invoice if you’ve done it enough times.

    Most foreign visitors (whose number is almost double the population of the nation) either never see Malé (transferring directly to and from the resorts) or spend just a single night here in preparation for an early morning return flight. I’m happy to be here longer, getting to see the Maldivian people on their own terms, as well as meet their new president.

    Mohamed ‘Anni’ Nasheed has had an extraordinary life, and he’s only 42. In 2008 Nasheed’s Maldivian Democratic Party (born in exile in Sri Lanka, and Wiltshire) ended the 30 year dictatorship of Maumoon Adul Gayoom, a man who wasn’t shy of conducting human rights abuses, particularly against those who didn’t like his autocratic government. Detention without trial, torture and politically motivated assassinations were all part of the portfolio.

    In a speech given a year before he became president to the UK Conservative Party (who’d helped Nasheed organise and gain international recognition for the MDP) Nasheed said:

    “The minute we mention the Maldives it’s very hard for us to convince you that it really is hell for a lot of people, because it’s such a beautiful place. Its beauty doesn’t quite go with brutality, torture and all the atrocities that happen there.”

    Two years later Nasheed returned to the Conservative party conference, as the first democratically elected president of the Maldives to say ‘thank you’ and lobby for increased action on combating climate change. He recalled:

    “I speak as a man who has personally experienced the worse a regime can contrive in order to suppress its people. I was imprisoned on 16 different occasions and spent a total of 6 years in jail. Of these I spend 18 months in solitary confinement. The thing that saddens me most about these experiences is that I was not able to witness the birth of my two daughters.”

    In the same speech he remarked, “Not surprisingly these obscenities were never mentioned internationally as an incentive to visit my country.” Human rights abuses don’t sit well with tourism and the international community was slowly waking up to the unsavoury political picture on the islands. On the home front too things were getting sticky for Gayoom. Despite his penchant for criminal repression, civil unrest was growing. A 2004 protest saw 3,000 democracy protesters take to the streets of the capital to demand reform. (On Malé that’s a huge demonstration). Gayoom sent in the riot police – hundreds were arrested and the day became know as ‘Black Friday’. Internationally, he went on the PR offensive, hiring the London PR firm Hill and Knowlton, who were reportedly paid £13,000 a month for their services. Not long after, the move rather back-fired for both Gayoom and his Soho-based advocates, by attracting a whole bunch of bad press for all concerned and drawing even more attention to his regime’s shortcomings.

    Modernisers in his own government convinced Gayoom that if he wasn’t careful he’d have a full scale revolution on his hands and he reluctantly agreed to official recognition of other political parties, the MDP being the first. The Asian tsunami of Boxing Day 2004 also brought indirect pressure. It’s hard to ask for international aid when you’re known for imprisoning and murdering your own people. Elsewhere though he continued to stall on constitutional reform and in 2005 Gayoom reverted to old habits. At a demonstration marking the anniversary of Black Friday Gayoom sent police to arrest Nasheed – and subsequently charged him with terrorism (also telling him the loudspeaker he was using to address the crowd was ‘a weapon’). One wonders what Hill and Knowlton had been teaching Gayoom. Surely in the rule book of PR there’s something that says,

    “Rule 46: when under the watchful eye of the international community and human rights organisations try not to arrest popular democracy reformers. In particular don’t send a pack of armed police into a large crowd where lots of people have cameras to drag away one unarmed man. It looks bad, trust us. Instead, we suggest a cocktail reception.”

    The arrest, unsurprisingly, sparked further public dissent and international observers voiced concerns that Nasheed would not receive a fair trial. It took a nearly a year but in the end Nasheed walked free, in exchange for a promise not to foment revolution. But the revolution had already happened. Despite Gayoom now trying to paint himself as a political reformer (not and easy task when it’s your own rule that needs reforming) Nasheed won the first free presidential election last year.

    In a speech earlier this year, Nasheed gave an example of how democracy is slowly taking root:

    “One of the first people released after the election was a man who four years ago held a banner calling for the resignation of my predecessor. I urged him to exercise his new found freedoms to hold the government to account. I’m pleased that the fellow has already started his work and has called for my resignation! I am proud to report that there are no political prisoners in the Maldives.”

    Other popular moves included destroying the buildings used for detention and torture, and choosing to turn the opulent multi-million dollar presidential palace built by his predecessor over to the judiciary to house a new supreme court. That palace I think is one of the biggest smoking guns when it comes to nailing Gayoom’s ‘evil bonkers dictator’ reputation. The absolute giveaway is the gold plated toilet (pictured below). I mean, come on. If a bullion-encrusted commode doesn’t cry out, “I really am a self serving bastard” what does?

    Smoking Gun

    Smoking Gun

    Nasheed and Gayoom may not share an interest in gaudy bathroom furniture, but they do both understand the power of PR, although Nasheed’s a damn sight better at it than Hill and Knowlton. Nasheed is an ex-journalist (it was criticism of Gayoom in his magazine Sangu that first brought him into direct conflict with the previous regime) and has used his media savvy to bring the most pressing problem the Maldives faces to the international stage.

    Not one of the 1190 islands that make up the nation is more than six feet above sea level. So as the planet warms and the seas expand the risk is that they’ll be less and less of the Maldives to see. “The challenges facing us are great,” says Nasheed. “I need not rehearse here the statistics relating to climate change. I will simply tell you that if the process continues unchecked my grandchildren will find their island home has disappeared completely under the seas.” In an impassioned speech to the UN assembly he was unequivocal. “It’s crystal clear to us…. If things go business as usual we will not live. We will die. Our country will not exist.”

    He has described the Maldives as the equivalent of the ‘canary in the coal mine’ that miners used to help detect build ups of deadly methane and carbon dioxide. (Above certain concentrations of these gases canaries tend to die, hence the analogy of the ‘canary in the coal mine’ as a warning to others that prevails today). Nasheed argues that, “If we cannot save 350,000 Maldivians from rising seas today we cannot save the millions in New York, London or Mumbai tomorrow.” To the world he says, “we are all Maldivians now” and compares his country to Poland in the second world war, ‘a frontline state’ in the global battle against CO2 rise. But Nasheed isn’t a pessimist, instead using the climate challenge problem to position the Maldives as a nation-sized laboratory of change, an example to the world of how we might battle global warming.

    “The Maldives is determined to break old habits,” he told the UN. “From now on we will no longer be content to shout about the perils of climate change. Instead we believe our acute vulnerability provides us with the clarity of vision to understand how the problem may be solved.”

    Too much of the debate over climate change has been debilitating he argues. “The Kyoto protocol and the current narrative about global climatic change has been about not doing things, about not emitting gas, about not going on holiday, about not having an icecream,” Nasheed told Al Jazeera. “My feeling is this is the wrong way to go about it. We should be demanding we do things, do greener things, invest in renewable energy. Renewable energy is doable, it’s feasible and will give you a handsome return.”

    He wants to provide a template, or ‘survival kit’ for other nations. One of his first big announcements upon coming to power was to commit his nation to becoming carbon neutral within 10 years, and I’ve been reliably informed that some concrete announcements will be made concerning this plan in the coming week or two. This might go some way to answering Nasheed’s critics who claim he’s all publicity but has little political substance.

    Those same critics will no doubt see tomorrow’s attention grabbing event as another example of a president interested more with publicity than policy. Nasheed will lead the world’s first underwater cabinet meeting, three metres below the waves, complete with a table, national flags and a scuba support team.

    I’m going.