NBC on Sunday decided to cut the words “under God” from the reading of the Pledge of Allegiance that accompanied the beginning of its coverage of the U.S. Open Golf Championship. In fact, this happened twice during the show's introduction (crude amateur video follows with partial transcript): I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one nation, with liberty and justice for all. Seconds later, the Pledge was repeated with even more words omitted: I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, with liberty and justice for all. How disgraceful. (Grateful hat-tips to many readers. Better video will be added when it comes available.)
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Massacre in Tamaulipas by Zetas drugs cartel fails to stem tide of Central Americans risking el brinco – the jump across Mexico Salsa music piped from the radio and the bus had a name, Teresita, but there was nothing jaunty about the young men with small backpacks who filed aboard in silence, avoiding eye contact. Behind them was home, Honduras, ahead lay the United States, and in between was el brinco , the jump. Also known as Mexico. Not so much a leap as a roll of the dice. The passengers were illegal migrants and they were bracing for perils which, as they travelled through northern Guatemala to the Mexican borderwards Mexico, could strike at any time: betrayal, kidnap, murder. A landscape of stunted trees, cattle and the occasional police checkpoint passed with barely a word spoken on the crammed little bus. There was plenty to say but, as one passenger explained later, better to stay silent. “You don’t know who’s listening.” Extortion by police, falling off a train and getting lost in the desert have always been risks, but the journey has become much worse since organised criminals started preying on travellers. Fifteen Nicaraguans were shot and burned on a bus outside Guatemala City, allegedly because the driver was transporting cocaine without the permission of drug gangs. Mexico is the real danger: mass abductions, ransom demands, tortures, massacres. The bus stopped at the San Pedro river, deep in a tropical forest once ruled by the Maya. The passengers piled out, forming groups of four or five. Canoes would take them to El Ceibo from where they would hike into Mexico. “You’ve got to be optimistic,” said Juan Colindres, 25, expressing hope over experience. Five times he had headed for the US and five times he was foiled in Mexico – robbed by police, robbed by his guide, deported. Each time organised crime’s breath felt closer, he said. There was no safety in numbers. Armed gangs would stop trains with hundreds of migrants clinging to the roof and herd them into waiting buses. “Better to go in a small group so you can dodge a bit,” said Colindres, wriggling his hand. But even small shoals get hooked. Some are sold to gangs by guides, others by fellow migrants known as enganchadoras . Others are handed over by corrupt police and immigration officials. With their backpacks and accents, migrants are easily identifiable. Groups such as the Zetas drug cartel in Mexico find it profitable to demand ransoms from captive migrants’ relatives, especially if they are in the US. They recruit some hostages as footsoldiers. Rumours circulated from about 2006 but the phenomenon exploded into public consciousness only last August when Zetas massacred 72 people – mostly Hondurans, Guatemalans and Salvadoreans – at an abandoned farmhouse in the north-eastern state of Tamaulipas. About 300,000 migrants pass through Mexico each year, the vast majority Central Americans, but keeping track of them is impossible, said Flora Reynosa, head of a state office in Guatemala City tasked with defending migrants’ human rights. Kidnapping had become a plague, she said. Families trek to Reynosa’s little office to supply names of missing relatives. That morning a father had registered the disappearance of a son who left in February, with no word since. Thelma Schaub, a psychologist in the office, said that families’ anguish often leads to neuroses, such as compulsively watching TV news bulletins in the hope of spotting loved ones. Casas del Migrante, a network of church-funded shelters in the region, receives chilling stories. Carlos Lopez, who runs one such centre in Guatemala City, recalled a Honduran who escaped from a farm in northern Mexico with more than 200 captive migrants. Those left behind, and whose ransoms were not paid, were dismembered by “the butcher”, a stocky killer who seemed to enjoy his work. The brinco used to refer to the final jump into the US, but now also refers to running the gauntlet that Mexico itself has become. It started a decade ago when authorities began intercepting migrants to reassure the US that an immigration accord with Mexico would not open floodgates from all Latin America. The crackdown but pushed the flow into the shadows. Mexico’s declaration of war on the drug cartels in late 2006 triggered a brutal competition among gangs to stamp authority on their territories. All vulnerable groups were fair game, few more so than migrants. A few thousand dollars’ individual ransom added up, as victims multiplied, to a lucrative sideline. Some of the most travelled routes passed through Zeta territories. When not doing its own dirty work, the organisation lent its fearsome name as a sort of franchise to smaller gangs. A National Human Rights Commission report in 2009 documented hundreds of mass kidnappings involving about 10,000 people in a six-month period. Victims said police and immigration agencies colluded with gangs. The Tamaulipas massacre is thought to have been a warning to human traffickers who tried to bypass the Zetas. One survivor said three migrants accepted an offer to join the Zetas, for a $1,000 (£615) weekly salary. The rest were blindfolded, ordered to lie on the ground and shot. The outcry prompted a law in April guaranteeing migrants’ rights. But they remain subject to arbitrary detention and deportation. The same month authorities freed hundreds of captives from safe houses, mostly in Tamaulipas. One group said it had been ordered off a bus by immigration officials and passed on to a gang. It is a measure of Central America’s poverty and unemployment that so many still risk the journey. “There’s nothing in Tegucigalpa [the capital of Honduras] for me. And there’s an excellent chance I’ll make it back to the US,” said Edwin Omar, 22, as he waited for a canoe by the San Pedro river. He had been working as an interior decorator in Miami, Florida, before being deported seven months ago. Coyotes – the name given to those who specialise in human smuggling – offer different “packages”. For $5,000 you are escorted from Honduras through Guatemala and Mexico to the US. Make it to the US border on your own steam and you pay $1,500 for help with the final brinco . Prices include three attempts. The El Ceibo crossing into Mexico has few official controls, reducing the risk of deportation, but is rife with Zetas. The El Carmen crossing is the reverse. For many the journey is a rite of passage. Seven Honduran teenagers in a Guatemala City shelter said they left home on a whim but were now marooned, having used all their cash to bribe police at checkpoints. Odanis Acuna, 35, a Cuban asylum seeker, warned them against Mexico. “I was robbed and stripped naked. I’m lucky to be alive.” Two of the teenagers are resolved to return home. Even without predatory gangs, journeys can end in tragedy. Cristobal Tambriz, 17, lost his grip and fell under a train in central Mexico. It sliced off his lower right leg. The Red Cross is helping with a prosthetic limb but a bleak future awaits on the family’s dust-blown farm. “I wanted to send back money, now I won’t even be able to work here.” Last September Laura Coc, 22, left the family’s hilltop house near Yesuj, outside Guatemala City, to join a brother and boyfriend in New Jersey. The family went into debt to pay a coyote 20,000 quetzals (£1,550). Coc apparently died of sunstroke in the Arizona desert. No body has turned up, tormenting her mother, Maria, 50. “I want to bury her,” she said, crying. “I want my daughter home.” Guatemala Mexico Honduras United States Drugs trade Rory Carroll Jo Tuckman guardian.co.uk
Continue reading …Massacre in Tamaulipas by Zetas drugs cartel fails to stem tide of Central Americans risking el brinco – the jump across Mexico Salsa music piped from the radio and the bus had a name, Teresita, but there was nothing jaunty about the young men with small backpacks who filed aboard in silence, avoiding eye contact. Behind them was home, Honduras, ahead lay the United States, and in between was el brinco , the jump. Also known as Mexico. Not so much a leap as a roll of the dice. The passengers were illegal migrants and they were bracing for perils which, as they travelled through northern Guatemala to the Mexican borderwards Mexico, could strike at any time: betrayal, kidnap, murder. A landscape of stunted trees, cattle and the occasional police checkpoint passed with barely a word spoken on the crammed little bus. There was plenty to say but, as one passenger explained later, better to stay silent. “You don’t know who’s listening.” Extortion by police, falling off a train and getting lost in the desert have always been risks, but the journey has become much worse since organised criminals started preying on travellers. Fifteen Nicaraguans were shot and burned on a bus outside Guatemala City, allegedly because the driver was transporting cocaine without the permission of drug gangs. Mexico is the real danger: mass abductions, ransom demands, tortures, massacres. The bus stopped at the San Pedro river, deep in a tropical forest once ruled by the Maya. The passengers piled out, forming groups of four or five. Canoes would take them to El Ceibo from where they would hike into Mexico. “You’ve got to be optimistic,” said Juan Colindres, 25, expressing hope over experience. Five times he had headed for the US and five times he was foiled in Mexico – robbed by police, robbed by his guide, deported. Each time organised crime’s breath felt closer, he said. There was no safety in numbers. Armed gangs would stop trains with hundreds of migrants clinging to the roof and herd them into waiting buses. “Better to go in a small group so you can dodge a bit,” said Colindres, wriggling his hand. But even small shoals get hooked. Some are sold to gangs by guides, others by fellow migrants known as enganchadoras . Others are handed over by corrupt police and immigration officials. With their backpacks and accents, migrants are easily identifiable. Groups such as the Zetas drug cartel in Mexico find it profitable to demand ransoms from captive migrants’ relatives, especially if they are in the US. They recruit some hostages as footsoldiers. Rumours circulated from about 2006 but the phenomenon exploded into public consciousness only last August when Zetas massacred 72 people – mostly Hondurans, Guatemalans and Salvadoreans – at an abandoned farmhouse in the north-eastern state of Tamaulipas. About 300,000 migrants pass through Mexico each year, the vast majority Central Americans, but keeping track of them is impossible, said Flora Reynosa, head of a state office in Guatemala City tasked with defending migrants’ human rights. Kidnapping had become a plague, she said. Families trek to Reynosa’s little office to supply names of missing relatives. That morning a father had registered the disappearance of a son who left in February, with no word since. Thelma Schaub, a psychologist in the office, said that families’ anguish often leads to neuroses, such as compulsively watching TV news bulletins in the hope of spotting loved ones. Casas del Migrante, a network of church-funded shelters in the region, receives chilling stories. Carlos Lopez, who runs one such centre in Guatemala City, recalled a Honduran who escaped from a farm in northern Mexico with more than 200 captive migrants. Those left behind, and whose ransoms were not paid, were dismembered by “the butcher”, a stocky killer who seemed to enjoy his work. The brinco used to refer to the final jump into the US, but now also refers to running the gauntlet that Mexico itself has become. It started a decade ago when authorities began intercepting migrants to reassure the US that an immigration accord with Mexico would not open floodgates from all Latin America. The crackdown but pushed the flow into the shadows. Mexico’s declaration of war on the drug cartels in late 2006 triggered a brutal competition among gangs to stamp authority on their territories. All vulnerable groups were fair game, few more so than migrants. A few thousand dollars’ individual ransom added up, as victims multiplied, to a lucrative sideline. Some of the most travelled routes passed through Zeta territories. When not doing its own dirty work, the organisation lent its fearsome name as a sort of franchise to smaller gangs. A National Human Rights Commission report in 2009 documented hundreds of mass kidnappings involving about 10,000 people in a six-month period. Victims said police and immigration agencies colluded with gangs. The Tamaulipas massacre is thought to have been a warning to human traffickers who tried to bypass the Zetas. One survivor said three migrants accepted an offer to join the Zetas, for a $1,000 (£615) weekly salary. The rest were blindfolded, ordered to lie on the ground and shot. The outcry prompted a law in April guaranteeing migrants’ rights. But they remain subject to arbitrary detention and deportation. The same month authorities freed hundreds of captives from safe houses, mostly in Tamaulipas. One group said it had been ordered off a bus by immigration officials and passed on to a gang. It is a measure of Central America’s poverty and unemployment that so many still risk the journey. “There’s nothing in Tegucigalpa [the capital of Honduras] for me. And there’s an excellent chance I’ll make it back to the US,” said Edwin Omar, 22, as he waited for a canoe by the San Pedro river. He had been working as an interior decorator in Miami, Florida, before being deported seven months ago. Coyotes – the name given to those who specialise in human smuggling – offer different “packages”. For $5,000 you are escorted from Honduras through Guatemala and Mexico to the US. Make it to the US border on your own steam and you pay $1,500 for help with the final brinco . Prices include three attempts. The El Ceibo crossing into Mexico has few official controls, reducing the risk of deportation, but is rife with Zetas. The El Carmen crossing is the reverse. For many the journey is a rite of passage. Seven Honduran teenagers in a Guatemala City shelter said they left home on a whim but were now marooned, having used all their cash to bribe police at checkpoints. Odanis Acuna, 35, a Cuban asylum seeker, warned them against Mexico. “I was robbed and stripped naked. I’m lucky to be alive.” Two of the teenagers are resolved to return home. Even without predatory gangs, journeys can end in tragedy. Cristobal Tambriz, 17, lost his grip and fell under a train in central Mexico. It sliced off his lower right leg. The Red Cross is helping with a prosthetic limb but a bleak future awaits on the family’s dust-blown farm. “I wanted to send back money, now I won’t even be able to work here.” Last September Laura Coc, 22, left the family’s hilltop house near Yesuj, outside Guatemala City, to join a brother and boyfriend in New Jersey. The family went into debt to pay a coyote 20,000 quetzals (£1,550). Coc apparently died of sunstroke in the Arizona desert. No body has turned up, tormenting her mother, Maria, 50. “I want to bury her,” she said, crying. “I want my daughter home.” Guatemala Mexico Honduras United States Drugs trade Rory Carroll Jo Tuckman guardian.co.uk
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Mangueira, hideout of one of Rio’s largest drug factions, is also home of one of city’s best-known samba schools Hundreds of Brazilian police and marines have swarmed through a Rio favela renowned as a centre for samba lovers, in the most striking move thus far to “pacify” the city before the 2014 World Cup and 2016 Olympics. Drunk revellers still packed the streets of the city as a column of armoured vehicles began rolling towards Mangueira, a notorious hideout for one of the city’s largest drug factions. Overhead, Huey helicopters tore through the morning sky; on the ground 750 security operatives, among them marines, filed in past bullet-pocked walls. Home to around 53,000 people, Mangueira is the most symbolic shantytown so far to be occupied by the so-called “pacification forces”. Famed for producing legendary samba artists such as Cartola, Nelson Cavaquinho and Carlos Cachaça, Mangueira is also home to the city’s best-known samba school, the Grêmio Recreativo Escola de Samba Mangueira. On Sunday, the samba school’s doors remained shut as police poured into the favela. Normally welcomed with gunfire, the troops instead found eerily quiet streets and white banners calling for “peace”. The traffickers had fled. “They’ve taken everything,” said one special forces operative, pushing his way into a concrete shack that had been used to distribute cocaine, marijuana and crack. The doors had been bricked up and the drugs had long gone; only two toothbrushes and a broken fridge remained. Next door, Pastor Eduardo Barbosa Marques monitored the police’s arrival from inside his empty church – the Temple of Blessings. “I’m not expecting many people for this morning’s service,” he admitted. “But tonight we’ll all be here to glorify the name of the Lord.” “The government knows what is best and we have to respect that and let the police do their job,” added the 46-year-old preacher. Thirty minutes’ walk across the favela, special-forces found another gang HQ. Inside were three red sofas and an empty wrap of cocaine, featuring a picture of Osama bin Laden. On the wall outside gang members had left a message: “Screw the pacifiers: Shoot Them!” But there was no shooting, only an awkward silence as police moved from house to house, seeking information from residents who didn’t want to talk. “People are still a little scared because this will mean having contact with different people,” said Simões do Nascimento, president of Mangueira’s residents association. “But people are asking for peace and we hope everything goes well.” Silvia Ramos, a social scientist and co-ordinator of Rio’s Centre for Studies on Public Security and Citizenship, warned that while the retaking of Mangueira was an advance, deadly clashes between police and drug traffickers were still commonplace in more distant parts of the city. “It is a turning point for the pacification project. [But] if Rio de Janeiro’s opinion makers and media get comfortable… after this victory… the project will fail. The possibility exists – and it is very worrying – that in pushing the gunfights further away the city will demobilise,” she added. At the foot of the favela, Jorge Bombeiro, a local samba composer, headed out with a ukulele as helicopters circled overhead. Like many he was reluctant to talk. What did he think of the occupation? “All I know about is samba,” he said. Brazil Drugs trade Tom Phillips guardian.co.uk
Continue reading …Mangueira, hideout of one of Rio’s largest drug factions, is also home of one of city’s best-known samba schools Hundreds of Brazilian police and marines have swarmed through a Rio favela renowned as a centre for samba lovers, in the most striking move thus far to “pacify” the city before the 2014 World Cup and 2016 Olympics. Drunk revellers still packed the streets of the city as a column of armoured vehicles began rolling towards Mangueira, a notorious hideout for one of the city’s largest drug factions. Overhead, Huey helicopters tore through the morning sky; on the ground 750 security operatives, among them marines, filed in past bullet-pocked walls. Home to around 53,000 people, Mangueira is the most symbolic shantytown so far to be occupied by the so-called “pacification forces”. Famed for producing legendary samba artists such as Cartola, Nelson Cavaquinho and Carlos Cachaça, Mangueira is also home to the city’s best-known samba school, the Grêmio Recreativo Escola de Samba Mangueira. On Sunday, the samba school’s doors remained shut as police poured into the favela. Normally welcomed with gunfire, the troops instead found eerily quiet streets and white banners calling for “peace”. The traffickers had fled. “They’ve taken everything,” said one special forces operative, pushing his way into a concrete shack that had been used to distribute cocaine, marijuana and crack. The doors had been bricked up and the drugs had long gone; only two toothbrushes and a broken fridge remained. Next door, Pastor Eduardo Barbosa Marques monitored the police’s arrival from inside his empty church – the Temple of Blessings. “I’m not expecting many people for this morning’s service,” he admitted. “But tonight we’ll all be here to glorify the name of the Lord.” “The government knows what is best and we have to respect that and let the police do their job,” added the 46-year-old preacher. Thirty minutes’ walk across the favela, special-forces found another gang HQ. Inside were three red sofas and an empty wrap of cocaine, featuring a picture of Osama bin Laden. On the wall outside gang members had left a message: “Screw the pacifiers: Shoot Them!” But there was no shooting, only an awkward silence as police moved from house to house, seeking information from residents who didn’t want to talk. “People are still a little scared because this will mean having contact with different people,” said Simões do Nascimento, president of Mangueira’s residents association. “But people are asking for peace and we hope everything goes well.” Silvia Ramos, a social scientist and co-ordinator of Rio’s Centre for Studies on Public Security and Citizenship, warned that while the retaking of Mangueira was an advance, deadly clashes between police and drug traffickers were still commonplace in more distant parts of the city. “It is a turning point for the pacification project. [But] if Rio de Janeiro’s opinion makers and media get comfortable… after this victory… the project will fail. The possibility exists – and it is very worrying – that in pushing the gunfights further away the city will demobilise,” she added. At the foot of the favela, Jorge Bombeiro, a local samba composer, headed out with a ukulele as helicopters circled overhead. Like many he was reluctant to talk. What did he think of the occupation? “All I know about is samba,” he said. Brazil Drugs trade Tom Phillips guardian.co.uk
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Waqar Kiani assaulted by men in police uniforms five days after he publishes story about torture by intelligence agents Five days after he published an account of abduction and torture by suspected Pakistani intelligence agents, a journalist working for the Guardian has been badly beaten by uniformed men who said they wished to “make an example” of him. The assault revived concerns about media freedom in Pakistan, one of the world’s most dangerous countries for journalists. Three weeks ago, another reporter, Saleem Shahzad, was beaten to death after disappearing from the capital. Men wearing police uniforms stopped Waqar Kiani, a 32-year-old local journalist who has worked for the Guardian, as he drove through Islamabad on Saturday night, and ordered him to get out of his car. As he stepped out, four men landed a flurry of blows with fists, wooden batons and a rubber whip. Two others watched from inside the jeep. “They said ‘You want to be a hero? We’ll make you a hero’,” said Kiani, who was recovering from his injuries . “Then they said: ‘We’re going to make an example of you’.” It was the second time Kiani had been targeted. Last Monday the Guardian revealed he had been abducted from central Islamabad in July 2008, blindfolded and taken to a safe house where interrogators beat him viciously and burned him with cigarettes. The ordeal ended 15 hours later when his abductors dumped him 120 miles from Islamabad, warning they would rape his wife “and post the video on YouTube” if he told anyone. Kiani had been working on a story about the illegal detention and torture of Islamist militants by Pakistani intelligence in collaboration with MI5. His research led him to an office of the Intelligence Bureau, the main civilian spy agency. Although his abductors did not identify themselves they displayed detailed knowledge of Kiani’s bank account, movements and contacts with Guardian journalists, leading him to conclude they worked for the government.The Guardian withheld Kiani’s story for three years until last Monday. Kiani later gave a detailed interview about his experience to a local television channel. He believes the coverage triggered Saturday’s vicious assault, which occurred after he went out to buy milk. “There is zero tolerance among our government and military establishment,” he said. “They don’t want us to speak the truth.” The Pakistan Federal Union of Journalists condemned the attack, demanding the government ensure security for journalists “at all costs”. Interior minister Rehman Malik ordered a judicial inquiry by a magistrate and a police inquiry. “I have acted without any delay. The investigation is on, without any issue,” he said. The assault comes amid an unprecedented anger over the behaviour of Pakistan’s intelligence and security forces. There was widespread shock earlier this month at video footage of paramilitary soldiers shooting an unarmed 22-year-old man in a Karachi park, then leaving him to bleed to death. Six soldiers and one civilian face murder charges. A similar shooting of five unarmed Chechens, one a pregnant woman, in Quetta last month is also under investigation. The normally voluble media has been shaken by the discovery of the battered body of Shahzad, a specialist in Islamist militancy and the secretive military, in a canal in Punjab three weeks ago. Human Rights Watch said it had credible proof that Shahzad had been abducted by Inter-Services Intelligence, the military’s top spy agency. The army strenuously denied involvement, describing the claims as “unfounded and baseless”. A government investigation into his death has become mired in controversy after a judge nominated to head the probe said he would not participate. With 16 journalists killed in the past 18 months, Pakistan is the world’s most dangerous country for journalists. Reporters die in suicide bombs, political violence and assassination, targeted by both Islamist militants and government agents. Kiani was discharged from hospital on Saturday night after being treated for injuries to his chest and back. Guardian editor Alan Rusbridger said he was “extremely disturbed” to hear of his maltreatment. “We call on the Pakistani authorities to investigate this latest beating and to give Mr Kiani meaningful protection against further attacks,” he said. Kiani said he had no regrets about going public with his account of torture. “I don’t feel I did anything wrong. Journalists can’t be silent forever in Pakistan,” he said. “If we don’t bring up the facts, then it’s no longer journalism – we become spokesmen of the government.” Pakistan Journalist safety Declan Walsh guardian.co.uk
Continue reading …Waqar Kiani assaulted by men in police uniforms five days after he publishes story about torture by intelligence agents Five days after he published an account of abduction and torture by suspected Pakistani intelligence agents, a journalist working for the Guardian has been badly beaten by uniformed men who said they wished to “make an example” of him. The assault revived concerns about media freedom in Pakistan, one of the world’s most dangerous countries for journalists. Three weeks ago, another reporter, Saleem Shahzad, was beaten to death after disappearing from the capital. Men wearing police uniforms stopped Waqar Kiani, a 32-year-old local journalist who has worked for the Guardian, as he drove through Islamabad on Saturday night, and ordered him to get out of his car. As he stepped out, four men landed a flurry of blows with fists, wooden batons and a rubber whip. Two others watched from inside the jeep. “They said ‘You want to be a hero? We’ll make you a hero’,” said Kiani, who was recovering from his injuries . “Then they said: ‘We’re going to make an example of you’.” It was the second time Kiani had been targeted. Last Monday the Guardian revealed he had been abducted from central Islamabad in July 2008, blindfolded and taken to a safe house where interrogators beat him viciously and burned him with cigarettes. The ordeal ended 15 hours later when his abductors dumped him 120 miles from Islamabad, warning they would rape his wife “and post the video on YouTube” if he told anyone. Kiani had been working on a story about the illegal detention and torture of Islamist militants by Pakistani intelligence in collaboration with MI5. His research led him to an office of the Intelligence Bureau, the main civilian spy agency. Although his abductors did not identify themselves they displayed detailed knowledge of Kiani’s bank account, movements and contacts with Guardian journalists, leading him to conclude they worked for the government.The Guardian withheld Kiani’s story for three years until last Monday. Kiani later gave a detailed interview about his experience to a local television channel. He believes the coverage triggered Saturday’s vicious assault, which occurred after he went out to buy milk. “There is zero tolerance among our government and military establishment,” he said. “They don’t want us to speak the truth.” The Pakistan Federal Union of Journalists condemned the attack, demanding the government ensure security for journalists “at all costs”. Interior minister Rehman Malik ordered a judicial inquiry by a magistrate and a police inquiry. “I have acted without any delay. The investigation is on, without any issue,” he said. The assault comes amid an unprecedented anger over the behaviour of Pakistan’s intelligence and security forces. There was widespread shock earlier this month at video footage of paramilitary soldiers shooting an unarmed 22-year-old man in a Karachi park, then leaving him to bleed to death. Six soldiers and one civilian face murder charges. A similar shooting of five unarmed Chechens, one a pregnant woman, in Quetta last month is also under investigation. The normally voluble media has been shaken by the discovery of the battered body of Shahzad, a specialist in Islamist militancy and the secretive military, in a canal in Punjab three weeks ago. Human Rights Watch said it had credible proof that Shahzad had been abducted by Inter-Services Intelligence, the military’s top spy agency. The army strenuously denied involvement, describing the claims as “unfounded and baseless”. A government investigation into his death has become mired in controversy after a judge nominated to head the probe said he would not participate. With 16 journalists killed in the past 18 months, Pakistan is the world’s most dangerous country for journalists. Reporters die in suicide bombs, political violence and assassination, targeted by both Islamist militants and government agents. Kiani was discharged from hospital on Saturday night after being treated for injuries to his chest and back. Guardian editor Alan Rusbridger said he was “extremely disturbed” to hear of his maltreatment. “We call on the Pakistani authorities to investigate this latest beating and to give Mr Kiani meaningful protection against further attacks,” he said. Kiani said he had no regrets about going public with his account of torture. “I don’t feel I did anything wrong. Journalists can’t be silent forever in Pakistan,” he said. “If we don’t bring up the facts, then it’s no longer journalism – we become spokesmen of the government.” Pakistan Journalist safety Declan Walsh guardian.co.uk
Continue reading …Waqar Kiani assaulted by men in police uniforms five days after he publishes story about torture by intelligence agents Five days after he published an account of abduction and torture by suspected Pakistani intelligence agents, a journalist working for the Guardian has been badly beaten by uniformed men who said they wished to “make an example” of him. The assault revived concerns about media freedom in Pakistan, one of the world’s most dangerous countries for journalists. Three weeks ago, another reporter, Saleem Shahzad, was beaten to death after disappearing from the capital. Men wearing police uniforms stopped Waqar Kiani, a 32-year-old local journalist who has worked for the Guardian, as he drove through Islamabad on Saturday night, and ordered him to get out of his car. As he stepped out, four men landed a flurry of blows with fists, wooden batons and a rubber whip. Two others watched from inside the jeep. “They said ‘You want to be a hero? We’ll make you a hero’,” said Kiani, who was recovering from his injuries . “Then they said: ‘We’re going to make an example of you’.” It was the second time Kiani had been targeted. Last Monday the Guardian revealed he had been abducted from central Islamabad in July 2008, blindfolded and taken to a safe house where interrogators beat him viciously and burned him with cigarettes. The ordeal ended 15 hours later when his abductors dumped him 120 miles from Islamabad, warning they would rape his wife “and post the video on YouTube” if he told anyone. Kiani had been working on a story about the illegal detention and torture of Islamist militants by Pakistani intelligence in collaboration with MI5. His research led him to an office of the Intelligence Bureau, the main civilian spy agency. Although his abductors did not identify themselves they displayed detailed knowledge of Kiani’s bank account, movements and contacts with Guardian journalists, leading him to conclude they worked for the government.The Guardian withheld Kiani’s story for three years until last Monday. Kiani later gave a detailed interview about his experience to a local television channel. He believes the coverage triggered Saturday’s vicious assault, which occurred after he went out to buy milk. “There is zero tolerance among our government and military establishment,” he said. “They don’t want us to speak the truth.” The Pakistan Federal Union of Journalists condemned the attack, demanding the government ensure security for journalists “at all costs”. Interior minister Rehman Malik ordered a judicial inquiry by a magistrate and a police inquiry. “I have acted without any delay. The investigation is on, without any issue,” he said. The assault comes amid an unprecedented anger over the behaviour of Pakistan’s intelligence and security forces. There was widespread shock earlier this month at video footage of paramilitary soldiers shooting an unarmed 22-year-old man in a Karachi park, then leaving him to bleed to death. Six soldiers and one civilian face murder charges. A similar shooting of five unarmed Chechens, one a pregnant woman, in Quetta last month is also under investigation. The normally voluble media has been shaken by the discovery of the battered body of Shahzad, a specialist in Islamist militancy and the secretive military, in a canal in Punjab three weeks ago. Human Rights Watch said it had credible proof that Shahzad had been abducted by Inter-Services Intelligence, the military’s top spy agency. The army strenuously denied involvement, describing the claims as “unfounded and baseless”. A government investigation into his death has become mired in controversy after a judge nominated to head the probe said he would not participate. With 16 journalists killed in the past 18 months, Pakistan is the world’s most dangerous country for journalists. Reporters die in suicide bombs, political violence and assassination, targeted by both Islamist militants and government agents. Kiani was discharged from hospital on Saturday night after being treated for injuries to his chest and back. Guardian editor Alan Rusbridger said he was “extremely disturbed” to hear of his maltreatment. “We call on the Pakistani authorities to investigate this latest beating and to give Mr Kiani meaningful protection against further attacks,” he said. Kiani said he had no regrets about going public with his account of torture. “I don’t feel I did anything wrong. Journalists can’t be silent forever in Pakistan,” he said. “If we don’t bring up the facts, then it’s no longer journalism – we become spokesmen of the government.” Pakistan Journalist safety Declan Walsh guardian.co.uk
Continue reading …Waqar Kiani assaulted by men in police uniforms five days after he publishes story about torture by intelligence agents Five days after he published an account of abduction and torture by suspected Pakistani intelligence agents, a journalist working for the Guardian has been badly beaten by uniformed men who said they wished to “make an example” of him. The assault revived concerns about media freedom in Pakistan, one of the world’s most dangerous countries for journalists. Three weeks ago, another reporter, Saleem Shahzad, was beaten to death after disappearing from the capital. Men wearing police uniforms stopped Waqar Kiani, a 32-year-old local journalist who has worked for the Guardian, as he drove through Islamabad on Saturday night, and ordered him to get out of his car. As he stepped out, four men landed a flurry of blows with fists, wooden batons and a rubber whip. Two others watched from inside the jeep. “They said ‘You want to be a hero? We’ll make you a hero’,” said Kiani, who was recovering from his injuries . “Then they said: ‘We’re going to make an example of you’.” It was the second time Kiani had been targeted. Last Monday the Guardian revealed he had been abducted from central Islamabad in July 2008, blindfolded and taken to a safe house where interrogators beat him viciously and burned him with cigarettes. The ordeal ended 15 hours later when his abductors dumped him 120 miles from Islamabad, warning they would rape his wife “and post the video on YouTube” if he told anyone. Kiani had been working on a story about the illegal detention and torture of Islamist militants by Pakistani intelligence in collaboration with MI5. His research led him to an office of the Intelligence Bureau, the main civilian spy agency. Although his abductors did not identify themselves they displayed detailed knowledge of Kiani’s bank account, movements and contacts with Guardian journalists, leading him to conclude they worked for the government.The Guardian withheld Kiani’s story for three years until last Monday. Kiani later gave a detailed interview about his experience to a local television channel. He believes the coverage triggered Saturday’s vicious assault, which occurred after he went out to buy milk. “There is zero tolerance among our government and military establishment,” he said. “They don’t want us to speak the truth.” The Pakistan Federal Union of Journalists condemned the attack, demanding the government ensure security for journalists “at all costs”. Interior minister Rehman Malik ordered a judicial inquiry by a magistrate and a police inquiry. “I have acted without any delay. The investigation is on, without any issue,” he said. The assault comes amid an unprecedented anger over the behaviour of Pakistan’s intelligence and security forces. There was widespread shock earlier this month at video footage of paramilitary soldiers shooting an unarmed 22-year-old man in a Karachi park, then leaving him to bleed to death. Six soldiers and one civilian face murder charges. A similar shooting of five unarmed Chechens, one a pregnant woman, in Quetta last month is also under investigation. The normally voluble media has been shaken by the discovery of the battered body of Shahzad, a specialist in Islamist militancy and the secretive military, in a canal in Punjab three weeks ago. Human Rights Watch said it had credible proof that Shahzad had been abducted by Inter-Services Intelligence, the military’s top spy agency. The army strenuously denied involvement, describing the claims as “unfounded and baseless”. A government investigation into his death has become mired in controversy after a judge nominated to head the probe said he would not participate. With 16 journalists killed in the past 18 months, Pakistan is the world’s most dangerous country for journalists. Reporters die in suicide bombs, political violence and assassination, targeted by both Islamist militants and government agents. Kiani was discharged from hospital on Saturday night after being treated for injuries to his chest and back. Guardian editor Alan Rusbridger said he was “extremely disturbed” to hear of his maltreatment. “We call on the Pakistani authorities to investigate this latest beating and to give Mr Kiani meaningful protection against further attacks,” he said. Kiani said he had no regrets about going public with his account of torture. “I don’t feel I did anything wrong. Journalists can’t be silent forever in Pakistan,” he said. “If we don’t bring up the facts, then it’s no longer journalism – we become spokesmen of the government.” Pakistan Journalist safety Declan Walsh guardian.co.uk
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European Commission estimates energy-intensive sector will have accumulated allowances worth €7-12bn by the end of 2012 Some of Europe’s largest industrial companies gained billions of Euros from the carbon emission rules they lobbied fiercely against, new analysis reveals today. Ten steel and cement companies have amassed 240m carbon pollution permits from generous allocations, found the report by the carbon trading thinktank Sandbag , seen by the Guardian. The free permits, granted to the companies, with a market value of €4bn (£3.5bn) can be sold or kept for future use. The European Commission estimates that the entire energy-intensive sector will have accumulated allowances worth €7-12bn by the end of 2012 . “More and more businesses see that Europe’s future lies in a highly efficient economy with low pollution,” said Baroness Worthington, Sandbag’s founding director. “But a small group of carbon fat cat companies are trying to stop this, in spite of making billions from a windfall of free pollution permits.” Steelmaker ArcelorMittal leads the list of companies in the report, with a current surplus valued at €1.7bn, followed by cement giant Lafarge. Tata Steel, in third place with a surplus valued at €393m, last month announced 1500 job losses at its plants in Lincolnshire and Teesside , blaming emissions regulations as well as the economic downturn. Karl-Ulrich Köhler, chief executive of Tata Steel’s Europe, said at the time: “EU carbon legislation threatens to impose huge additional costs on the steel industry.” Tata Steel declined to comment. The European Union emissions trading scheme (ETS) puts a cap on the carbon pollution emitted by energy and industrial companies. Those reducing their emissions can sell their spare permits to those who do not. But a combination of initial over-allocation by national governments and the economic decline has left the steel, cement, chemical, ceramic and paper sectors with many more permits than they need. The industries have lobbied hard against calls from governments including the UK for the tightening of the ETS and other emissions targets. Eurofer, the lobby group representing all of Europe’s steel makers, said last month: “To remain competitive in the free, global steel markets, European steel needs … legislation that does not harm its competitiveness. But we are gravely concerned that EU Climate Change policy will do precisely that .” Cembureau , which lobbies for the cement industry, takes a similar line, stating : “It would be irresponsible to shift the [emissions] goal posts .” In the UK, the government has proposed incentivising low-carbon innovation by setting a British floor price for carbon from 2013. But this is opposed by the CBI, whose director general John Cridland said : “It risks tipping energy-intensive industries over the edge .” The government made some concessions to energy-hungry businesses, promising to produce plans later in 2011 to compensate them for any competitive disadvantage . However, independent analysis by Bloomberg New Energy Finance found that the carbon permits held by the steel industry would cover its emissions for the next 12 years. “If the steel sector [on aggregate] did not sell any of its surplus, it would not have a need to purchase emissions until 2023,” said Guy Turner at Bloomberg NEF. The Sandbag report, based on public data, also found that nine of the 10 “carbon fat cats” bought between them 24.4m carbon permits from the cheaper international market, mainly from companies in China and India. These can be used within the EU’s trading scheme, enabling the companies to retain the more valuable EU’s ETS permits. Furthermore, despite the European companies claiming that tougher emissions rules would drive business overseas, some were paying overseas steel and cement companies for their international carbon permits. “Purchasing carbon offsets from foreign competitors would not seem to be the actions of businesses genuinely concerned that the ETS will drive business abroad,” said Worthington. Not all companies are resisting tightening of the EU’s ETS. Five major energy companies, including Britain’s Scottish and Southern Energy, last week called for spare permits to be withdrawn from the ETS , a proposal supported by Sandbag. “Failure to do so could severely hamper business incentives to invest in low-carbon technologies, as the price signal will be skewed in favour of fossil-based solutions,” their statement said. The Guardian contacted all the companies named by Sandbag. Those who responded argued that the surplus permits arose from decreased production and might be needed when the economy recovered. They argued that without protection, steel and cement making would be driven to countries with less CO2-efficient manufacturing practices. Many called for global regulation of emissions. One company gave specific information about how it uses its surplus: “As part of our corporate responsibility strategy, we have decided that any sale of such surplus allowances will be reinvested into projects aimed at the improvement of our energy efficiency footprint, as this will help to reduce our overall CO2 emissions.” said spokesperson for ArcelorMittal . Erwin Schneider, at steelmaker ThyssenKruppe , said: “Companies make decisions based on expected future developments. Any earnings from the past will either have been reinvested already or paid out to shareholders. Therefore it seems to be very misleading to use historic numbers to address our future position.” Emissions trading Manufacturing sector Corus Arcelor Mittal Tata Europe Scottish and Southern Energy Energy industry Carbon emissions Climate change Pollution European Union Damian Carrington guardian.co.uk
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