I am George Iordanou. I am interested in practical ethics and liberal political theory.

I currently work as a Community Services Consultant at the UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR) in Cyprus. Obvious disclaimer: All view expressed here are my own and do not reflect the opinion of my employer.

I have a PhD in Political Theory from the University of Warwick. My thesis examines how to apply theories of Multicultural Citizenship to non-Western and highly securitised contexts. You can read the abstract here.

In this website I express opinions on stuff I know very little about; it’s basically a collection of my non-academic writings.

I write both in English and in Greek.

You can also find me on LinkedIn, Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram.

You can contact me here.

Η έλλειψη δημοκρατικού διαλόγου στην Ελλάδα και τα ατυχή κυπριακά παραδείγματα

Το ελληνικό δράμα δείχνει για ακόμη μια φορά την αδυναμία των Ελλήνων να συζητήσουν πολιτισμένα και με επιχειρήματα θέματα κοινού ενδιαφέροντος για τα οποία υπάρχουν αντικρουόμενες απόψεις. Πριν την κορύφωση του δράματος, γίνονταν δημόσιες τοποθετήσεις που πρόδιδαν τις ανέλπιδες προσπάθειες των συγγραφέων τους να συγκαλύψουν τα πραγματικά τους πιστεύω, τα οποία υποκινούνταν όχι απο πολιτικά επιχειρήματα αλλά από τον κλασικό, εξόχως ελληνικό οπαδισμό. Τωρα που η Ελλάδα βρίσκεται στο τέλος του δρόμου ή στην αρχή του επομένου ή στο χείλος του γκρεμού (διάλεξε κλισέ βάση ομάδας), βλέπουμε τα ίδια άτομα που μάταια συγκάλυπταν τις οπαδικές βάσεις των πολιτικών τους τοποθετήσεων να δείχνουν — επιτέλους — τον πραγματικό τους εαυτό.

Απο τη μια έχουμε τη τρομολαγνεία του λαϊκίστικου “θα γίνουμε Σομαλία, ο πάτος είναι πολύ πιο κάτω”· όπου ο Τσίπρας παρουσιάζεται ως Παπανδρέου που κατάφερε να γίνει Τσάβες, που έρμαιο των ιδεοληψιών του καταφέρνει αυτό που πάντα ήθελε, την οριστική ρίξη με την ΕΕ. Η αφήγηση αυτή εργολαβικά παραβλέπει οτιδήποτε γράφεται απο έγκυρους αναλυτές που παρέχουν επιχειρήματα υπερ της αντίθετης άποψης. Η αντίθετη άποψη απορρίπτεται μέσω της αποδόμησης των εκφραστών της και όχι μέσω της επαφής με τα επιχειρήματα τους. Κλασικά παραδείγματα της πρακτικής αυτής είναι ο τρόπος που αντιμετωπίζεται η εξαιρετική οικονομολόγος Frances Coppola που παρουσιάζεται ως άτομο που εξυπηρετεί αλλότρια συμφέροντα, ο νομπελίστας Paul Krugman που φέρεται ως παρασυρόμενος απο τα πάθη που έχουν κυριεύσει τη λογική του, ο Paul Mason του Channel 4 που απλά θέλει να πουλήσει το νέο του βιβλίο και ο Άλεξ Ανδρέου που παρουσιάζεται περίπου ως σταλινικός.

Από την άλλη βλέπουμε τον κλασσικό αντιδυτισμό της αριστεράς (που μάθαμε να αγαπάμε) και τον ελληνικό ψευτοπαλληκαρισμό της ακροδεξιάς συγκυβέρνησης (που δε μάθαμε να φοβόμαστε αρκετά). Όπου οι διαφωνούντες παρουσιάζονται ως προνομιούχοι από την παράταση της μιζέριας του ελληνικού λαού, καθώς εμπίπτουν στην άρχουσα μειονότητα που τον απομυζεί, της οποίας τα συμφέροντα ευθυγραμμίζονται με των δανειστών, απόδειξη ότι οι κεφαλαιοκράτες είναι απάτριδες. Οι διαφωνούντες είναι εκ φύσης τους ριψάσπιδες και υποτακτικοί που προδίδουν το ελληνικό πνεύμα που θέλει τον έλληνα να πεθαίνει μαχόμενος και ενίοτε να νικά.

Οι δυο ομάδες συχνά παραθέτουν παραδείγματα απο την πρόσφατη κυπριακή ιστορία με τροπο όπως μόνο Έλληνες μπορούν. Αν κάτι χαρακτηρίζει την ελληνική προσέγγιση προς την Κύπρο είναι η άγνοια, η αδιαφορία και ο τυχοδιωκτισμός. Οι μεν παρουσιάζουν τον πρόεδρο Αναστασιάδη ως το success story, μη ξέροντας ή αγνοώντας ότι ο ίδιος και η οικογένεια του εμπλέκονται σε δεκάδες πρόσφατα σκάνδαλα, καθώς και ότι ο ίδιος προσωπικά έχει προβεί σε σειρά ατυχών διορισμών που δεν αρμόζουν στο (νεο)φιλελεύθερο προφίλ της προόδου με το οποίο τον ταυτίζουν. Οι δε αντιπαραβάλλουν το κυπριακό ΟΧΙ ενός αμφιλεγόμενου προέδρου που ήθελε την Κύπρο στην ΕΕ και την ευρωζώνη με το ΟΧΙ που σήμερα καλούν τους Έλληνες να υποστηρίξουν, αγνοώντας μάλιστα ή μη ξέροντας το πολιτικό κόστος του ΟΧΙ των Κύπριων (πχ το IPC). Εννοείται ότι καμία αναφορά δε γίνεται στα συμφέροντα των Κύπριων που καλούνται να χάσουν €600 εκατομμύρια ή 3% του ΑΕΠ τους από την επικείμενη ελληνική χρεοκοπία, τα οποία θα προστεθούν στα πέραν των €3δις που χάθηκαν με το ξεπούλημα των κυπριακών τραπεζών στην Ελλάδα.

Οι Έλληνες, τουλάχιστο οι opinion leaders που παρακολουθώ, αδυνατούν να εμπλακούν σε πολιτισμένο διάλογο. Δεν προσπαθούν να αντιληφθούν τις ανησυχίες που υποκινούν την αντίθετη γνώμη. Δεν έρχονται σε επαφή μαζί με τους εκφραστές αντίθετων πολιτικών απόψεων και αρνούνται να μπουν στα παπούτσια του άλλου και να αντιληφθούν τις ανησυχίες του, αποκλείοντας τον εκ προοϊμίου. Παρατάσσονται ο ένας απέναντι στον άλλο, ταμπουρωμένοι πίσω απο τα κλισέ, τις ιδεοληψίες και το φανατισμό τους. Θόρυβος χωρίς ουσία και έλλειψη δημοκρατικού διαλόγου παρόλη την υφιστάμενη δημοκρατική υποδομή.

If you object to the army, you should stay true to your convictions

Published in the Cyprus-Mail under the title “Army lessons from Socrates,” June 28th, 2015.

Should one support an immoral institution just because the law says so? What are the options available to those who are ideologically opposed to what is charitably called the Cyprus Army? In this article I address the brave young men of Cyprus who oppose militarism urging them to stay true to their conscience.

When one objects to serving in the army for reasons of conscience he has two options: to pay 50 euros and get a note from a shrink verifying that he is not fit for service, or to declare that he will disobey the law on the grounds of conscience, which is an inalienable right guaranteed by the European Court of Human Rights. Sadly, teenagers usually opt for the first option which is much more straightforward, albeit a cowardly one.

A great man who was killed by the people of Athens when he decided to object to an unjust law has already provided us with the reasons why we should follow our conscience. Fortunately for us today, following one’s conscience does not lead to imprisonment or death, since freedom of conscience is an internationally protected legal right. Now it’s a matter of challenging the Republic of Cyprus, of forcing it to adopt a non-punitive alternative service for those who do not want to partake in an institution that trains young men to kill fellow humans.

Let us consider the reasons why you should not go down the coward’s route, why you should stand up to your parents, to society’s expectations and ultimately, to the state; essentially, why you should follow Socrates’ route.

Socrates in the Apology is on trial for corrupting the youth, an allegation that was obviously false. The Apology is divided in two parts based on the public trials in classical Greece. In the first part, the decision of guilt or innocence is at hand; the accusers present their case against Socrates, and the latter responds in order to persuade the public, who are the ones that will vote in favour or against him. The second part comes after the accused is found guilty. It is during the second part that the sentence is decided upon, following another round of cross-examination.

In the first part of the Apology, Socrates did not seek to defend himself. Rather, he defended his way of life and philosophical inquiry, thus giving munition to his accusers, who were able to prove that the accusations were indeed true. In the latter part, after he was found guilty, he urged the court to sentence him to death. Socrates was subsequently sentenced to death through poison for his act of civil disobedience.

The state has laws and rules. These rules are not always correct. The individual is a moral being and as such has a duty to live by his or her conscience. When the directives of one’s conscience are at odds with the rules of the state, then one has a moral obligation to disobey the rules of the state and face the consequences for his or her disobedience. This is what Socrates did. He was warned about his way of life, which contradicted, as it turned, the established laws, but he refused to move away from his convictions, eventually paying for it with the highest of prizes.

Once Socrates was sentenced to death, he was imprisoned until his execution, which would take place upon the arrival of a ship from Delos. During that time, Socrates was visited by his old friend, Crito. The title of the Socratic dialogue that depicts this scene is titled after the name of his friend, Crito. Crito visited Socrates in order to persuade him to escape from prison and flee the city-state of Athens. A plan, orchestrated by Crito and supported by Socrates’ friends was in place, in order to facilitate Socrates’ escape. Socrates refused on the grounds that he owes his life to the city-state, in exchange for all that it has given him. Remember that Socrates loved Athens. He fought for Athens and only left it a handful of times throughout his life, and did not want to hurt it. If everyone escaped from prison, he argued, there would be no rule of law, and the foundations of the Athenian state, which he passionately loved, would be destroyed.

There is a paradox here. Socrates disobeyed the laws of Athens in the Apology, which eventually led to his death. His civil disobedience was based on the high-order authority of his conscience that led him to violate the law. According to the same moral authority — his conscience — the verdict reached by the court was unjust. The paradox is therefore expressed as follows: if he disobeyed an unjust law that led to an unjust verdict, why not escape from prison, in order to avoid the consequences of the aforementioned unjust verdict and save his life along the way? It is a paradox because in the Apology Socrates defends his disobedience, whereas in the Crito he refuses to disobey the verdict of the court. Why the double standards then?

Socrates’ explanation was that one has a duty to either persuade the state for an unjust law or face the consequences for disobeying that law. A law is unjust because it violates one’s conscience. But given that one chooses to live in a country, and benefits from what it has to offer, then one has a duty to try to persuade their fellow men and women to change the law. In case of failure to do so, then one needs to follow his conscience and disobey the law. Disobeying the law has consequences. Out of respect for what one is offered as a citizen of that state, he or she has a duty to obey the verdict of the court which, ideally, expresses the will of the people. In the case of classical Athens the court did express the will of the people, because, as said above, decisions were made in a direct-democratic setting through majoritarian decision-making.

What reasons, then, did Socrates give, to explain his refusal to escape? His main argument was that if he escaped, he would destroy the city for his part. Obviously, if one person escapes from prison, the harm is rather minimal; the society will still function, the laws would still apply, and one individual act will not destroy the society. What does for his part mean then? If everyone did the same thing — disobeyed the law and refused to face the consequences of his disobedience — then the society would, in fact, be destroyed, because its institutions rely on a daily-renewable contract between the citizen and the state; to ignore the decisions reached by the institutions is to destroy the state for your part, because you destroy the fabric that holds the institutions in place: your own end of the agreement.

The case of Socrates applies to the case of denying a mandatory army service on the grounds of conscience. Young objectors should challenge the state rather than opt for the easy way out. In doing so, they will improve the situation for themselves and for others, whilst staying true to their beliefs.

If you are a young man who objects to the enlisting in the army, firstly, you should be congratulated for having the courage to stand up against the norm. It’s always easy to do what everyone does, but it takes a great person to defy society’s norms and expectations. Secondly, you should read this (iordanou.org/blog/NG-vicitims-what-to-do/), which explains why the Republic of Cyprus cannot force someone who objects on the grounds of conscience to enlist in the army. Thirdly, you should start writing down the reasons why you object, along with possible responses to the obvious responses that you might receive. If you have reasons and courage, nothing can stand in your way.

Για το συνέδριο της ΕΔΕΚ

Στο συνέδριο της ΕΔΕΚ έγιναν και ψηφίστηκαν πολλά τα οποία θεωρώ ότι θα στοιχειώνουν το κόμμα για αρκετά χρόνια.

Τα θέματα που μονοπώλησαν το συνέδριο ήταν δυο:

  1. Η επικύρωση της απόφασης του Μαρίνου Σιζόπουλου να εξοντώσει πολιτικά τους αντιπάλους του περνώντας καταστατική πρόνοια για περιορισμό θητειών με αναδρομική ισχύ.
  2. Η απόρριψη του μόνου κοινά αποδεκτού από Ε/Κ και Τ/Κ συνταγματικού μοντέλου λύσης του κυπριακού, το οποίο μάλιστα είναι συνδεδεμένο με τα πλείστα ψηφίσματα των Ηνωμένων Εθνών, τα οποία η ΕΔΕΚ έχει για παντιέρα του αντικατοχικού της αγώνα.

Ο περιορισμός θητειών ήταν σωστή επιλογή. Η αναδρομική ισχύς του όχι. Παρόλο που ο περιορισμός θα συνδράμει στην πιο δημοκρατική λειτουργία του κόμματος (ας μην το ονομάσουμε “εκδημοκρατικοποίηση”), η αναδρομική ισχύς φαίνεται να έχει αλλότρια κίνητρα που εξυπηρετούν τα προσωπικά συμφέροντα της τωρινής ηγεσίας. Η απόφαση για τη ΔΔΟ ήταν βλακώδης, όπως και η ρητορική που την ακολούθησε — είναι αστείο να αποκαλείς όσους διαφωνούν με τη προσωπική σου θέση φιλο-ΝΑΤΟϊκούς και ρατσιστές.

Όμως, το πιο σοκαριστικό κομμάτι του συνεδρίου, που δείχνει και την έκταση του συντηρητισμού των συνέδρων, ήταν ότι το κόμμα που αυτοαποκαλείται ως σοσιαλδημοκρατικό, κόμμα χώρας-μέλους της Ευρωπαϊκής Ένωσης, εν έτη 2015 συζήτησε σοβαρά την κατάργηση της ποσόστωσης για την ισότιμη συμμετοχή των γυναικών στα συλλογικά του όργανα.

Ξανά για εμπέδωση: 2015, σοσιαλδημοκρατικό κόμμα, ΕΕ, σοβαρή συζήτηση για την κατάργηση της ποσόστωσης για την ισότιμη συμμετοχή των γυναικών στα συλλογικά όργανα του κόμματος.

The metaphor of re-reading

These days I recall earlier times of my childhood, when I had few worries and plenty of free time. I remember summers when I was a teenager, lying on the floor of an air-conditioned room, reading books far too complicated for my age.

I re-read the same books years later, only to find out that my experiences have changed, that the text now conveys something completely different. This is hardly surprising. The books do not have an essence in themselves. They live and survive through the experiences of the reader, locked within the reader’s social context, awareness and framework of understanding.

Since then, I visit some books on a yearly basis, a pilgrimage of the secularly minded to the time that passes; a tribute to an earlier self, and a rite of passage to the future.

The ritualistic reading is reminiscent of the mother who draws lines on the kitchen wall to mark the ever increasing height of her child, documenting his transition into adulthood and her transition into whatever she is afraid. Every reading is another line on the kitchen wall, and every line is another step in a ladder that others have started before and others will continue after you go.

The UN and the EU should use their carrots to steer towards a multicultural solution

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Published in the Cyprus-Mail under the title “Role upgrade needed for EU and UN,” May 21st, 2015.

Greek- and Turkish-Cypriots have not been able to solve the Cyprus problem between them. Neither have they been able to solve it through the involvement of their respective motherlands. The Cyprus problem will only be solved through the United Nations and the European Union, who are already involved in the process, and who should use the carrots that they hold in order to steer the two sides towards a multicultural solution. Bear with me, this is not yet another oft-repeated Cyprob cliché.

The aforementioned intergovernmental organisations must promote the respect of diversity and the rights of all people — including non-dominant national minorities (e.g. Maronites, Armenians and Latins) and new migrant groups — over their culture, language and history. In order to guarantee fair treatment, we need to re-think the bicommunal exceptionalism of the negotiated constitution; namely, to consider whether we are still right in treating Greek- and Turkish-Cypriots as exceptional. We cannot have a healthy debate without the creation of a safe space where non-dominant minorities can express their demands in relation to the upcoming solution plan. And the only way to establish this safe space is through the EU and the UN.

Let us now consider what carrots the UN and the EU hold, which they could use to steer the two sides towards a multicultural solution.

The United Nations provide their good offices through the office of their representative in Cyprus. The UN have an advisory role, which means that they cannot force or enforce any decision; it is up to the constitutive sides to reach an agreement. Nevertheless, the UN are those with the expert knowledge, responsible for drafting and facilitating the negotiation for the new constitution.

The European Union is also involved in the negotiations, albeit through a less hands-on approach in comparison to the UN; one that nonetheless spans multiple domains. The European Commission releases the Annual Enlargement Package, which includes strategy and progress reports for each country. A lot of political weight is put into those reports, since they decide whether additional requirements will be imposed on the accession criteria of states that aspire to join the Union. As such, the EU has the ability — and does exercise it — to put pressure on Turkey through its Annual Progress Report.

Similarly, the European Commission can exercise pressure on the leadership of the Turkish Cypriot community. The EC has set up a Directorate-general for Enlargement which has, in turn, set up a task force for the Turkish Cypriot Community, that runs a Programme Support Office (EUPSO) in north Cyprus. The Aid provided by the EU through EUPSO aims to facilitate the social and economic development of northern Cyprus, to develop and refurbish its infrastructure, to support civil society in creating initiatives for reconciliation and to prepare the post-solution implementation of EU law. The Aid programme was established in 2006, and it had an initial life-span of five years, but it was extended from 2011 onwards with an additional €28 million annually, in support of the on-going UN process.

Thus the TC leadership has a very good monetary incentive to abide by the Commission’s guidance, and Turkey — through the Progress Report and because of the fact that in absence of the EUPSO Aid given to the TC, the gap in TRNC’s balance of payments would have to be filled by the Turkish state, which finances the regime in the north — is also incentivised towards finding a comprehensive settlement to the Cyprus problem.

The Republic of Cyprus, on the other hand, is already bound to the EU as all member-states are, and as such it is also incentivised for cooperation on finding a solution to the problem. Since March 25th, 2013, the RoC has an additional motivation to seek a solution. A solution to the Cyprus problem would be beneficial to the economy, and given that the RoC is under a Memorandum of Understanding with the Troika it is in dire need of political initiatives that will have financially beneficial outcomes for the country’s economy.

The authority of the EU and the UN is deliberately interwoven. The objectives of the UN and the EU in relation to the Cyprus problem are the same, and they are supported both materially and practically — the Aid and Grants of the EU, the good services of the UN in Cyprus, and the EU’s role as a guarantor for the success of the new constitution. Furthermore, the UN Security Council’s Resolutions and the case law of the European Court of Human Rights pertaining to Cyprus are used as political assets by both sides — thus the resolutions, ruling and reports issued by the two intergovernmental institutions can easily shift the balance of power between the two communities.

A recent example that followed the rejection of the Annan Plan by the Greek Cypriots, has been the creation of the Immovable Property Commission, where the ECtHR ruled that a new court would be set up in north Cyprus to resolve property disputes related to GC properties in northern Cyprus. The creation of IPC has shifted the balance of power between the two sides considerably, because it was the first EU-sanctioned institution established in the internationally unrecognised TRNC. Whereas the GC political elites maintain that taking a case to the IPC means recognising TRNC, the ECtHR clarified that the IPC does not constitute a recognition of the state in the north, for it is placed under the authority of Turkey and not TRNC.

Nevertheless, the public attitudes towards the EU and the UN are low amongst both the Greek- and Turkish-Cypriots. According to the latest Eurobarometer data, 86% of the Greek Cypriots believe that their voice does not count in the EU. 77% of GCs believe that their voice does not count in Cyprus either. 52% of Greek Cypriots are against the Euro and only 46% believe that they are citizens of the EU. The Eurobarometer results for the TC communirty show that 57% of TCs answered that they trust the EU and 49% have a “total positive” image of it. Trust towards the UN was slightly lower at 47%.

The opinion polls paint a bleak picture of the UN and EU. There is consensus of distrust towards the EU and the UN by both GCs and TCs, which is featured consistently across different surveys. Nevertheless, the negative consensus can be justified — the Annan Plan was rejected, all attempts for reunification since then have failed, and both states have been subject to severe austerity measures.

The success of the negotiations relies upon a positive consensus on the involvement of IOs in the process of reaching a comprehensive solution of the Cyprus problem. It is less a matter of transference of power from the domestic to the international, and more an issue of revision of the existing involvement of these intergovernmental institutions to the Cyprus problem; to revise their involvement in order to make sure that it is in accordance and compatible with the Lisbon Treaty and the Charter of the UN, which both explicitly uphold the respect of diversity. It would require that the EU or the UN provide arbitration for the deliberation over the rights of minority cultures, making sure that cultures are not denied rights because their cultural identities are ignored or misrepresented.

Should we reconsider the “Bi” in Bizonal Bicommunal Federation?

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Published in the Cyprus-Mail under the title “Reconsidering the ‘bi’ in bizonal, bicommunal federation,” May 24th, 2015.

Once the dual meaning of the term “Greek-Cypriot” is deciphered, then one must proceed to understand the process of misrecognition that took place during the crafting of the 1960s constitution. Non-dominant minorities have experienced their ethnic, religious and linguistic identities denied to them in the name of their membership to the Greek Cypriot culture. This is what I describe as the process of misrecognition, where the initial classification of a cultural group conditions the demands that the group is entitled to make. Such acts of misrecognition have been legitimised with the 1960 bicommunally-organised constitution, and perpetuated in all the subsequent solution plans. Thus, the constitutional model negotiated since then, called the Bizonal Bicommunal Federation (BBF), is open to challenge on the grounds that it suppresses cultural diversity through misrecognition and cultural assimilation.

Bizonality is one of the more controversial aspects of the negotiated constitutional model, because it grants each culture specific rights over land. The geographical area of Cyprus, both north and south, will be divided into two parts of different sizes, where each ethnic group will preside over. The opponents of bizonality, like the Social Democratic EDEK, claim that the concept of bizonality is original to Cyprus, since it has no precedence of application in any other country. Nevertheless, bizonality is another form of territorial rights, similar to those found in Australia, where certain indigenous populations retain rights over specific pieces of land. More specifically, in Australia 417,318 square kilometres of Aboriginal freehold land are regulated by Land Councils under the Aboriginal Land Rights Act of 1976.

The arguments against bizonality are often defended on anti-prejudice grounds: that it is prejudiced to restrict the right of movement of people, but they rest on false premises because they misunderstand the nature of the territorial rights in question: freedom of movement is not curtailed, people will still be able to move and live in the zones controlled by the other ethnic group, the only difference is that local governance will be up to the other national group.

The rejection of bizonality is often intertwined with a rejection of federalism altogether. To reject a federal solution to the Cyprus problem is not often part of the public discourse in Cyprus. It is something only featured among the supporters of the far-right. Supporters of the mainstream political parties, who are critical of a federal solution, often displace their discontent of federalism through the rejection of bizonality, although in essence they reject the latter. The most popular criticism that they level against it, again in the name of anti-prejudice, is that it is discriminatory to violate the premise of “one (hu)man one vote.” Nevertheless, balanced voting is a defining feature of many federal constitutions, used to protect the interests of minority cultures. The most popular example of this can be seen in the United States, where the weight of individual votes depends on the size of that state.

Irrespective of the popular discourse around the type of the negotiated constitution, certain aspects of BBF cannot be dispersed.The TCs would hardly concede to a solution that lacked the following three attributes: self-governmental rights in a federal state, territorial rights in that state, and Turkey as a guarantor of the security of that state. It is important to understand that the TCs, in almost an identical way as the GCs, have experienced the construction of their national identity in opposition to “the other” — through nation building and competing historiographies. At the same, the non-dominant minority cultures were assimilated through misrecognition and forced membership to one of the two constitutionally exceptional cultural groups. The challenge that a multiculturally-organised constitution needs to tackle is how to find the balance between the security-related concerns of the main groups (GCs and TCs), whilst compensating the non-dominant minorities for the costs imposed upon them through their historical constitutional misrecognition.

To resolve these challenges the role of the intergovernmental institutions involved in the process of finding a comprehensive solution to the Cyprus problem need to be reconsidered, as well as the currently-negotiated constitutional model, the Bizonal Bicommunal Federation.

Starting with the latter, the reasons why a federal solution is the only type of constitution likely to be accepted by all the national groups of the island, requires little discussion — it is the only model likely to be accepted by both sides.

Greek Cypriots favor a unitary state over other alternatives. Federation is a distant second, but still acceptable to a majority of the population. A continuation of the status quo is seen as unacceptable by the majority of population. […] Turkish Cypriots favor two states, but are prepared to accept federation as a compromise. Continuation of the status quo is also a tolerable option to Turkish Cypriots.

The opposite model, that of a unitary state, cannot ease the security-concerns of the TCs and given the post-violent climate, it stands to reason that a federal solution with territorial rights to the two dominant groups whose identities are competing, is the only constitutional model likely to be accepted, and most importantly, the only likely to be functional and able to provide a structure that promotes the peaceful coexistence of the two peoples. What must be reconsidered is not the federal basis of the negotiated constitution, but rather its binary character. This view is one that is almost never articulated in the discourse of the Cyprus problem, even though it is clearly the source of much conflict. The emphasis is usually placed on whether the future state should be federal or not, and whether the minority TC culture should have territorial rights in the form of political control over a zone. Instead, the emphasis should shift towards the binary application of those two constitutional provisions, which exclude the rest of the national cultures of the island.

In revising the “Bi” in “Bizonal, Bicommunal, Federation,” one must consider what rights must be extended to the members of the non-dominant minorities of the island, in order to compensate them for their historically unjust treatment. This view has the implication that Armenians, Latins, Maronites and Roma as citizens of the Republic of Cyprus, can rightfully advance claims for self-governmental and territorial rights, in the same way as the TCs do. An argument against this implication is the impracticability objection: that it would be politically messy in terms of governmentality, and invariably costly in terms of application, to provide self-governmental and territorial rights to all the national minorities on the island. Although the view that it would be impossible to extend (some of) the rights that the TCs will be afforded in future constitutions to non-dominant minorities has merit, there is no evidence to support it because it has never been seriously considered. In any case, the devolution of powers to, for example, the local councils of Maronites is not something that would be either terribly costly or grossly impractical. It is not the academic (or the politician for that matter) who must decide what rights must be granted to minorities. It is the minorities themselves that are burdened with the task of articulating their demands. Thus, until a process is established where minorities, under full knowledge of their options, can securely articulate their demands, one cannot know what those might be.

To this end, a process of internationally-facilitated recognition of minority cultures can be particularly conducive to the process of the communication of the demands of minority cultures, necessary for the creation of a new negotiating framework for the constitution of Cyprus. In order to compensate for the historical injustice of misrecognition, the exclusion and assimilation that minority cultures have experienced through the binary nature of the constitution need to be mitigated. A new constitution, one that is based on multicultural rather than bicommunal constitutionalism must be established; one that includes all cultures in the debate, and guarantees their equal standing within it. To this day, the members of non-dominant minority cultures are considered part of the GC civic group, and thus denied part of their cultural identity. In order to overcome this political and cultural deadlock, an external arbitration arrangement is needed to facilitate the process of their recognition — one that must underpin any future deliberation between members of majority and minority cultures.

What it means to be a Greek-Cypriot?

Published in the Cyprus-Mail, May 17th 2015.

In the case of Cyprus one must distinguish between the dual-meaning and usage of the dominant cultural identity.

The identity and label of the Greek Cypriot (GC) can have two completely different meanings: there is a constitutional (civic) definition and a cultural definition. The civic definition is that which is found in the 1960 constitution of the Republic of Cyprus, where a GC is a member of the Greek national group. Nevertheless, the civic definition of being a Greek Cypriot includes Armenians, Latins and Maronites, who “chose” to join the GC ethnic group back in 1959, only months before the introduction of the new constitution, as well as recently naturalised third country nationals.

As such, to be a GC in the civic sense does not mean being a member of a historical association based on a common sense of belonging to a community of fate, religion, lineage, language and customs. Rather, it means being a member of a civic group dominated by a specific cultural group.

By being a member of this constitutionally-recognised collective, the groups whose culture is different from the dominant group, are subject to assimilation because their own culture is not recognised.

The civic definition therefore is: the constitutional recognition of a collective that identifies based on the values of the dominant group of a country, but whose membership spans beyond the cultural natives of that dominant group; people from different (minority) cultures are assimilated to it — they are identified as members of the dominant culture and in doing so are denied their native cultural identity.

The civic conception of culture is able to accommodate more members than the alternative, ethnic “cultural” conception, which forms the core of the civic identity, since the former provides the values upon which the latter is based. The cultural conception relies upon ethnicity as its determinant of identity and as such, it is less welcoming and more exclusionary than the civic conception, since it can only accommodate people who are born into the culture. The cultural definition includes the members of one imaginary community — in the case of the Greek Cypriots it includes those members who are being identified as part of the Greek ethnos. The agency of the individual members has little relevance. One cannot cease being a Greek Cypriot; membership to an ethnic culture is a blood bond rather than a product of voluntary decision-making. Individuals need not espouse the bundle of identities that make up the ethnic whole in order for them to be considered rightful members of that culture — blood is enough. For instance, one can be a Greek Cypriot whilst being an Atheist, thus diverging from the ethnic definition of Greeks as Christian Orthodox; or one can be a GC without speaking the Cypriot dialect of the Greek language, like the children of expats, which are nonetheless considered members of the GC culture.

In the case of Cyprus it is of utmost importance to understand that the identity of the “Greek Cypriot” can have a dual meaning, describing two different groups of people. The civic definition includes the members of the Greek ethnic group but goes beyond it to include the post-1959 new recruits — Maronites, Latins, Armenians — whilst at the same time promoting the values, customs and history of the dominant ethnic group.

It would therefore be a mistake to assume that there is a uniform culture of Greeks Cypriots, conceived as a solidified and homogeneous group whose values must be guaranteed by the state. Only when the dual meaning of being a Greek Cypriot is grasped, will one be able to proceed and question whether it is desirable, or even politically legitimate, to apply and reinforce the dominance of the ethnic identity upon the members of the civic group.

Thus, in the first instance, when one reflects on the case of Cyprus, one must distinguish between ethnic and civic conceptions of national cultures, which are then to be distinguished from the individual cultural allegiances, or lack thereof, of their members.

In Cyprus, the dominant narrative on both sides of the divide is to refute the fact that the cultural distinctions established and institutionalised with the 1960 constitution resulted in the assimilation of people whose ethnic identities diverge from the two constitutionally-recognised ones, or of people who do not perceive themselves as members of either cultural group. This dominant perspective has survived throughout the second half of the 20th century, and has found its way into all the solution plans (constitutions) negotiated since then. All the constitutional solutions to the Cyprus problem treat the two cultures as exceptional by granting them more rights than the rest, allowing for the gradual extinction through assimilation of those cultures that are civically-classified as members of the GC, but are nonetheless cultural members of other associations, and therefore not members of the Greek ethnic group.

What makes a hero? — the elephant in the room (part 5)

Previous posts:

In this series of posts I try to make sense of what makes a hero. These posts are a record of my thoughts on the matter, and might not always be coherent. If you have feedback or thoughts you want to share, I would love to read them either in the comments below, or via email.

This discussion is taking place in a room that has a big pink elephant at its centre, whom we have thus far ignored. The elephant screams that our understanding of human agency and the motivations that are so central to the analysis, have been abstracted so much that they do not describe human beings who, contrary to the account given here, are complicated and multifaceted, and don’t always make rational and calculated decisions.

The elephant is not only taking issue with the psychological simplifications that were made in the course of the argument, but also with the physiological simplifications. For instance, the elephant argues that when adrenaline kicks in, it is very difficult to distinguish between a reflex response and the exercise of individual agency. When high on adrenaline, one is hardly a rational agent able to make informed decisions, the elephant’s argument goes.

In most cases where abstractions are used, the usual routine is that reality is abstracted in order to avoid complexities, so that the competing principles at play are teased out and become crystallised. Ideal theorists claim that the complexity of reality is subsequently factored back in the theory, and the desirable principles generated from the idealised thought experiment, are weighted against considerations of implementation, scarcity and feasibility.

Unfortunately, the process of deciding what makes a hero, cannot fit the (idealised) process of ideal to non-ideal transition. The difficulty — and essence — of heroism, relies on the understanding of how a human will react in a high-stress situation vis-à-vis how she is naturally predisposed to react . Whereas ideal theorists abstract from human nature, assuming characteristics that are fundamentally non-human — like the assumption that everyone will comply with an agreed principle — the same cannot be done in our present discussion because we are interested at the cliff moment when a regular human does something out of the ordinary, possibly something that goes beyond his or her natural instincts.

To this end, and until we have more data about how humans react in such situations, the elephant will have to remain in the room if we are to reach any meaningful conclusions. Every statement that we make needs to be accompanied by the phrase “to the extent that we know.” Obviously, I’m not a natural scientist, so if anyone has any input, it would much appreciated.

What makes a hero? — two types of motives (part 4)

Previous posts:

In this series of posts I try to make sense of what makes a hero. These posts are a record of my thoughts on the matter, and might not always be coherent. If you have feedback or thoughts you want to share, I would love to read them either in the comments below, or via email.

The earlier discussion on outcomes distinguished between outcomes in relation to the success or failure of the act — i.e. whether the children were saved from the burning school building — and the outcomes in terms of the personal detriment endured by the act-doer. A similar distinction is relevant in the discussion on motives. They can be divided into the motives prior to the act and the motives during the act.

To illustrate the difference between the two types of motives recall our fireman example. First the example with the motive that is prior to the act. A fireman might be outside the building and notice how fragile it is. He nevertheless decides that he will go inside and risk his own life to save the children. This decision contradicts his mandate, which requires him not to take risks that would jeopardise his  well-being. He is outside his contractual obligations — probably in violation of them — and nevertheless, decides to risk his life. His motives and the exercise of his agency kick in before the act itself and they end up driving the act.

In the second case, we have an example where the motive arises during the act. We have a firewoman in a regular work scenario. She enters the burning building. The firewoman, upon entering the building, realises the near-collapse state of the ceiling and nevertheless decides to move forth to the second room to try and save the kids. The moment the firewoman decided to move forth knowing of the possible adverse consequences of her act, was the moment she exercised her agency in opposition (or above) her mandate. It is at that point that her act yielded a hero-status, which is independent from the outcome of her attempt.

But, as with the case of outcomes in terms of detriment to the act-doer, it is the exact point where considerations of motive kick in that inform the extent of the heroism. The earlier the motive kicks in, the more grandiose the hero-status that will be attached to the act.

In the case of motives — the exercise of the individual agency of the actor — the distinction between earlier and later motives qualifies the extent of the hero-status that will be attached to the act. Both stages yield the original hero-status. Or, to put it in a slightly different way, the distinction is irrelevant to the original allocation of the hero-status and it only speaks to its magnitude.

This is not the case with outcomes. The success or failure of the hero-type endeavour — named the original outcome — is unable to yield the hero-status by itself. In fact, one can be considered a hero solely based on motive-related considerations.

The second type of outcome (described in previous posts as personal outcome), on the other hand, can yield both hero-status and qualify the magnitude of that status. Its primary role is, of course, to qualify the extent of the hero-status. Nevertheless, it also serves a secondary role, which is to provide insight into the motive. A person, for instance, who has injuries that testify to his endurance under detrimental for his well-being conditions, has exercised his agency — motive — to endure those conditions; thus he is a hero because of the exercise of his agency as seen through the personal outcome.

Before we proceed further with the discussion on motives, let us first address the elephant in the room; an endeavour that will be attempted in the next post.

What makes a hero? — thinking about motives (part 3)

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Previous posts:

In this series of posts I try to make sense of what makes a hero. These posts are a record of my thoughts on the matter, and might not always be coherent. If you have feedback or thoughts you want to share, I would love to read them either in the comments below, or via email.

We now turn to motives. By the end of the discussion we must be in position to consider whether our determination of the heroism attached to saving the schoolchildren from the burning building changes if the random bystander is replaced by a fireman.

The parameters of the example remain the same. The only change is the actor. It is no longer a third-party, an unrelated by-stander that runs into the burning building. Now, the actor is a fireman whose very job description includes him going into burning buildings and saving people like the two schoolchildren trapped in the burning school. Under what conditions would that person be described as a hero?

Motivations are more important than outcomes. The motivations behind the hero-yielding attempt far outweigh considerations of outcome. The outcome only conditions the magnitude of heroism. The task itself, provided the right motives, is heroic irrespective of the outcome.

Is a fireman who goes into a burning building a hero? Only under certain circumstances where his mandate and his agency are in a disequilibrium. A fireman is someone who has signed a contract to fulfil tasks such as entering burning buildings and saving children. This is his mandate to which he has agreed. The mandate is contractually constrained by considerations of his own personal safety: he is obliged to keep himself, to the best of his abilities, out of harm’s way.

Thus, a fireman or a firewoman are heroes only when they exercise their individual agency in ways that violate their mandate, which protects their safety and constraints the amount of risk that they can take. A hero is he or her that goes beyond and against the mandate.

What about the fireman who unknowingly finds himself violating his mandate? He goes into the building but does not notice the extent to which the fire has corroded the ceiling. Miscalculating the circumstances our fireman enters the room and moves to the next one to save the two children. In doing so the building collapses and they all die. In this instance, the fireman is not a hero because his violation of his mandate was a product of accident or personal error, and as such, not an exercise of his individual agency.

The distinction of motives and outcomes is important. The outcomes condition and decide the extent to which an act or an actor is heroic, but not whether the actor has indeed partaken in a heroic act. The initial classification of an act as heroic rests on the actor’s motives. At this stage, the argument supports that an act is heroic insofar as the actor knowingly exceed any mandate he might have relating to the act in question.

In the next section, we will talk about different kinds of motives, in order to get a better understanding of the function of motives in evaluating whether an act is heroic.

What makes a hero? — outcomes (part 2)

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Previous post: What makes a hero? — introduction (part 1)

In this series of posts I try to make sense of what makes a hero. These posts are a record of my thoughts on the matter, and might not always be coherent. If you have feedback or thoughts you want to share, I would love to read them either in the comments below, or via email.

This is the second post on What makes a hero? Here, I will explore two scenaria in order to tease out our intuitions on outcomes; whether the outcomes of an act play a role in determining if the act is indeed heroic.

In the first scenario, our hero is someone who enters into a burning school and saves the lives of two children who are trapped inside. If our rescuer is a random bystander who is unrelated to the children that are trapped in the burning school, then we can reasonably, and without much controversy, argue that he or she is a hero.

Let us consider a twist to the first scenario. Would that person still be considered a hero if the school ceiling collapsed and she got trapped insight, effectively burning to death along with the two schoolchildren? We would probably say that she is indeed a hero.

Would she still be a hero if she came out of the burning building without the schoolchildren? Some people would hesitate to call her a “hero,” but would almost unequivocally call her act “a heroic act” or “an act of great heroism.”

What if the rescuer comes out of the building without the schoolchildren whom she failed to safe, but with severe burning injuries to her hands and face? The evidence of the detrimental effects of the act performed, will likely warrant her a “hero-status,” even if she failed to save the schoolchildren.

It therefore seems prudent to distinguish between the two outcomes.

First, the outcome in relation to the original act; in this case, saving the kids — call this the original outcome. This, I will henceforth argue, is secondary to our evaluation of whether an act merits a hero-badge.

What is most decisive in evaluating the hero-type statement is the second type of outcome: the costs suffered by the act-doer in virtue of the act she performed — call this the personal outcome.

Assume a second example that illustrates the distinction to a better degree. An aeroplane is flying over the desert. The two pilots are dead. A courageous flight attendant attempts to land the failing aeroplane. If he lands it and everyone but himself dies, it is unlikely that he will be called a hero; he fails on both outcomes. If everyone but two people and himself die, he will likely be called a hero in virtue of the additional two lives that he saved; he scores some points in relation to the original outcome. If everyone but himself dies, but in trying to land the aeroplane he manages to avert a further catastrophe such as the aeroplane falling on a major city, then we would unequivocally call him a hero; again, in relation to the original outcome. If all die, himself included, and we acquire knowledge of his attempt to avert the accident through the black box, then we will likely call his attempt a heroic one and him possibly a hero; this assessment is based on the personal outcome.

In the second example we have seen, the flight attendant is a hero irrespective of the destiny of the passengers — the original outcome — provided that he has endured personally detrimental damages. Thus, if everyone but himself died, he would still be considered a hero, conditional upon the personal detrimental effects generated by the act, or in relation to the act attempted; in this case, on whether he has endured any injuries or whether he has averted a further tragedy such as the aeroplane falling on a congested city.

To summarise the position thus far, we can say that a hero must be judged on the motives underpinning the act, as well as from the outcome of the act itself. The outcome can be divided into two categories: the success of the act itself, saving the schoolchildren or the passengers in the aeroplane; and the outcomes in relation to the effects that the act had upon the act-doer, whether the lady rushing in the burning school or the flight attendant trying to land the aeroplane died or suffer any injuries. The two different outcomes have been summarised under the terms original outcome and personal outcome.

In the next post, we will consider the motives behind the act, in order to find out what role, if any, personal motives play in determining whether someone is a hero.

What makes a hero? — introduction (part 1)

hero

In this series of posts I will try to make sense of what makes a hero. These posts are a record of my thoughts on the matter, and might not always be coherent. If you have feedback or thoughts you want to share, I would love to read them either in the comments below, or via email.

I am always weary of people who call other people heroes.

What does it mean anyway?

That was, until recently, my immediate thought when confronted with a hero-type statement. My response was a product of performative conditioning. Simply put, when we observe the same phenomenon over and over again, we associate it with those that perform it, thus leaving the concept itself — heroism in this case — unexplored. In essence, the performative conditioning, the fallacy that I have been committing when confronted with claims of heroism, was that I associated the motives and dispositions of the actors making the hero-type statement with the phenomenon of heroism itself.

In this series of posts, I will try to make sense of what makes a hero. My objective is to develop a nuanced understanding of heroism; one that can be called to facilitate the evaluation of hero-type statements of the sort: “George is a hero” or “George has committed a heroic act.”

Such was my attitude towards the act of calling someone a hero. In my defence, most of the people I know who casually refer to others as “heroes,” come from the religious right. More often than not, they juxtapose the term “hero” with the term “traitor.” One can be a hero, or at least try to be one, or else, she is possibly a traitor, or at least suspect of being one. Any unusual act that diverges from the spectrum of expected responses to given social stimuli, tends to fall in either of the two categories. This dichotomy makes me uncomfortable.

Nevertheless, recently I was talking with a friend about Edward Snowden. We were talking about the Nobel Peace Prize, and whether Snowden should have been the recipient of the award. During our discussion I casually made the statement that Edward Snowden is a contemporary hero and as such should have received the prize. I argued that Snowden has given up a very comfortable life for the common good — the detrimental effect that the “Snowden revelations” had on Snowden’s own life, and the positive outcome of the revelations were, at the time, sufficient conditions for me to classify the man as a “hero.” My friend challenged me and argued that there is no such thing as a selfless act, and as such we should disperse with the concept of heroism altogether. Although I am sympathetic to the view that no act is absolutely selfless, since it would assume that individuals are disembodied from themselves and abstracted from their social contexts, nevertheless I do think that some acts have motivations or outcomes that make them exceptional.

First, let me talk to you about the ideal-type hero that I dislike. In this formulation, the hero sets the gold standard. There is something biblical about a hero. A normal individual commits an “abnormal” act and becomes elevated to a demigod-status. Demigods have followers who define themselves in relation to the ideal man, the hero — a living embodiment of the superhuman. The ideal of heroism is usually defined in relation to some group-defining and often exclusionary characteristic. Sometimes this characteristic is ethnicity, other times is religion, and often both. The man — it usually is a man — who exemplifies these values through his actions, gets the badge of heroism. Most heroes of this sort, become heroes by upholding esteemed societal values through violent means, either because they have killed “the others” or because they have prohibited “the others” from killing “us,” which means that they have also committed acts of violence.

The concept of heroism as depicted above is part of a cleansing process. It purifies the man and his acts in order to ensure that the ideal image will survive and inspire others over time. Alas, the cleansing is also dehumanising for it detaches the human vices from the acts performed.

We need to step back and consider the term “hero” without purifying the actors and their motivations. In fact, the distinction of “motives” and “outcomes” of a heroic act will enable us to better understand what it is, in the end, that makes someone a hero.

In the next post, two examples will be explored to tease out our intuitions regarding the kinds of outcomes that merit the hero badge.

On Useless Statistics

I run to podcasts. My favourite podcast is More or Less: Behind the Statsby Tim Harford. It is broadcasted weekly by BBC Radio 4. Tim humorously examines mainstream statistics that come up in the news. Listeners send their questions and he tries to analyse the numbers to examine the claims that are made.

moreorlessFor instance, in the latest show, Tim analyses two interesting statistics. The first, was that joggers who run for more than two and a half hours, for more than three times per week, are as likely to die as those who are couch potatoes, whereas those who run for up to two and half hours for less than three times a week and at a slower running pace, enjoy increased chances of survival of non-joggers and strenuous joggers alike. The conclusion reached by the statisticians who conducted the longitudinal study, eagerly circulated by mainstream media, was that strenuous jogging is bad for you.

Alas, the sample of strenuous joggers used was very low, only thirty six, and definitely not enough to justify such a grand conclusion. Moreover, the number of people in the strenuous joggers’ group who actually died, were two. One. Two. Only two. And we have no data about their cause of death. So if a strenuous jogger died in a car accident we would have no way to distinguish her from someone who died whilst running. Nevertheless, the runner who might have died in a car accident would still be counted towards the overall number of deaths of strenuous joggers.

The second interesting statistic was that the average number of legs per person is less than two. This can be verified statistically, but in reality, it tells us nothing. The statistic is technically true. There are more people with amputated legs than there are people who were born with three legs. Whilst the statistic is true, it doesn’t tell us much; it is illustrative of the sensational excitement that statistics can create, even in the absence of actual substance.

Anyway, I just wanted to bring the podcast to your attention. I hope you enjoy it.

The hidden agenda behind the explicit criminalisation of sex-selective abortion

Pro-Choice Signs

Women, like men, live in societies and make choices based on the norms and constraints that exist within those societies. Accepting diversity means accepting the fact that different people hold different conceptions of the good life. As long as people make autonomous choices within those constraints, the government should keep out of it.

A British or an American-born woman will likely choose to abort her foetus if she has no means to support it, or if bringing it up would affect her circumstances to such as an extent that she finds unacceptable. She makes the choice based on the constraints of her community, which holds financial independence and material affluence to high regard.

Can someone meaningfully argue against that woman’s right to abort? Can one object on the grounds that she is forced into it due to the pressures imposed upon her by the cultural norms of western societies? I think not. Yes, you could object to the abortion on religious or other grounds, but not using the argument that it is a product of cultural oppression.

Gruesome as it may be, sex-selective abortion falls within the same parameters. Sex-selective abortion is a practice that responds to the norms of some cultures, in the same way as financially-motivated abortions are a product of decision within the constraints of western liberal cultures. Insofar as it is the autonomous choice of women, where informed adults exercise their agency over their reproductive rights within the inevitable constraints of their societies or cultures, the state cannot legitimately intervene. As such, the amendment to the law to explicitly criminalise sex-selective abortion, has a hidden agenda: to criminalise all abortions and in doing so to restrict women’s reproductive freedoms.

The state should not be in the business of regulating people’s lives. Rather, it should guarantee that the women in question make autonomous decisions without coercion, and that they are aware of alternative options available to them; options that they might so choose if and when they want to.

The state should guarantee that the women in question enjoy a substantive right of exit from their cultures. A right of exit is very different from forcing a woman to give up her reproductive rights. Similarly, providing a right of exit should not entail the destruction of her culture, as it provides context-of-choice for her – a term coined by the Canadian philosopher Will Kymlicka.

Guaranteeing autonomous choice and a substantive right of exit for women, means that the state must guarantee that women have a right to education and that they are aware of the existence of a safety net beyond the structures of their culture. Both conditions rest on the availability of a welfare state that will provide educational opportunities, structures that will help women to get back on their feet if they choose to alienate themselves from their families and friends, and overall gender equality within society: in the job market, in universities, in the media, in the arts and, of course, in public office.

Restricting women’s reproductive rights is not the way to go. On the practical side, there is no way to enforce such a measure without the state shoving its nose into people’s private lives (the law already prohibits SSAs, the new amendment wants to recognise the “rights of the unborn” independent of the pregnant woman, as many academics rightly argued in a letter to the Telegraph). More substantially though, it doesn’t solve the problem. If it’s not sex-selective abortion it will be something else. And then something else. And some more. How far do we want to take it before our private decisions are first vetted by the value-system of the majority societal cultures?

A small state, as the one envisioned by the Conservative party, cannot guarantee people’s right to live their lives as they see fit. The erosion of the welfare provisions of the state leaves it unable to guarantee a substantive right of exit of individuals from their cultures. It can only act as a bully — by intervening and asserting its authority through a blanket ban on some practices, which rests on the arrogant superiority that women in minority cultures are victims of oppression who cannot make autonomous decisions.

In doing so, the sack of Aeolus opens and more restrictions on women’s control over their bodies is under way. Now it’s self-selective abortion, in a few years, provided that the majority culture deems it prudent, it might be all abortions, “our” abortions. When we talk about the rights of “others” is easy to miss how their restriction could backlash against the rights that feminists have fought for and won after centuries of oppression by us, men.

Am I the right person to talk about women’s reproductive rights? Probably not. I will never experience giving birth and I will never be in a position where I will have to make choices such as these. Nevertheless, neither are most western activists who campaign in favour of the explicit criminalisation of sex-selective abortions. The voices that need to be amplified, those we really need to hear, are the voices of women who face this choice.

If the objective is not to ban abortions altogether, if there is no hidden agenda against all abortions behind the proposed amendment, then we need to start talking about the empowerment of women and the unjust hierarchical structures that constrain the options available to them. We must engage with women who face decisions that we find problematic and learn from them instead of classifying them as victims of oppression who have no agency or control over their lives.

And history can teach us a few things on that. Not too long ago, France banned the veil in public schools. Three girls were expelled from their school for refusing to conform. A great debate took place, from which the only people missing were the three girls whose choice to wear the veil was considered problematic by the majority of French people. When the girls were later interviewed it became obvious that their decision to wear the veil was autonomous and reasoned, and that the veil was an assertion of their identity rather than a product of an oppressive culture that left them no other choice.

We need to avoid the restriction of women’s right to choose how to deal with their own bodies and we need to take positive steps to make sure that the choices they make reflect the exercise of their informed judgement and not the pressure of their families or cultures. Explicitly criminalising sex-selective abortions achieves neither objective. Instead, it will endanger the lives of women who will seek alternative — underground — means to get those abortions and will, at the same time, limit the reproductive rights of women in general, as is the objective of the so called pro-life group behind the proposed amendment.

Published in the Huffington Post. For comments head to the original article.