"Gendercide": The death of possibilities
By Debby Tewes
The news of Benazir Bhutto's death came to me in typical 21st century fashion — an instant message
from my supervisor flashed across my computer screen. In the past, it might have taken until the evening
news to hear of the death half way around the planet. But now, with the stroke of a few computer keys, we
can hear (and watch) bad news instantly. I was able to instantly access the news feed from CNN and
learned that it was indeed true; Benazir Bhutto had been killed in a suicide attack, the second in just a few
months. Regardless of one's politics and how Ms. Bhutto's life had been lived in Pakistan in the past, her
death is another example of how little human life means today. It is obvious that people seek out the
opportunity to commit these crimes with the maximum audience available. We now are able to instantly
view the final milliseconds of someone's life and the violence in which it ends. Not only did the attack end
her life and plunge Pakistan into a maelstrom of violence and chaos; it ended the lives of those near her
car, including the person who caused her death. It ended the hopes and dreams of people who had no idea
that merely turning out that day to cheer on a political candidate or to catch a glimpse of a hopeful future
and yes, even idle curiosity, was to be their final moments alive.
Ms. Bhutto clearly anticipated her life was in danger, as was obvious from messages sent to media
outlets, as well as statements she made in public appearances. Indeed, there is a tradition in her family of
political assassination which makes one wonder what drives someone to take those risks. Is it a sense of
destiny or a true belief that change is possible and must be striven for in the face of personal risk?
The news of Benazir Bhutto's death came to me in typical 21st century fashion — an instant message
from my supervisor flashed across my computer screen. In the past, it might have taken until the evening
news to hear of the death half way around the planet. But now, with the stroke of a few computer keys, we
can hear (and watch) bad news instantly. I was able to instantly access the news feed from CNN and
learned that it was indeed true; Benazir Bhutto had been killed in a suicide attack, the second in just a few
months. Regardless of one's politics and how Ms. Bhutto's life had been lived in Pakistan in the past, her
death is another example of how little human life means today. It is obvious that people seek out the
opportunity to commit these crimes with the maximum audience available. We now are able to instantly
view the final milliseconds of someone's life and the violence in which it ends. Not only did the attack end
her life and plunge Pakistan into a maelstrom of violence and chaos; it ended the lives of those near her
car, including the person who caused her death. It ended the hopes and dreams of people who had no idea
that merely turning out that day to cheer on a political candidate or to catch a glimpse of a hopeful future
and yes, even idle curiosity, was to be their final moments alive.
Ms. Bhutto clearly anticipated her life was in danger, as was obvious from messages sent to media
outlets, as well as statements she made in public appearances. Indeed, there is a tradition in her family of
political assassination which makes one wonder what drives someone to take those risks. Is it a sense of
destiny or a true belief that change is possible and must be striven for in the face of personal risk?
Even more disturbing to me though is that, while political assassination is certainly not limited to female politicians, it got me thinking of the
many injustices suffered by women in both the political arena and as "collateral damage" in conflicts all over the world. There was something
more to Benazir Bhutto's death than political implications (and I don't mean to minimize the many horrific possibilities that open up and the truth
of which may never be known). The people who committed the immediate crime are dead and now only their handlers know the truth. Blame is
now resting on a known "jihadist" sympathetic to al Qaeda, Baitullah Mahsud. What is most troublesome to me is that women who speak out for
justice or stand up for their rights or the rights of others seem to end up dead or at the very least, demonized by the press for speaking out. I won't
even begin to address the notoriety granted to certain American "media sensations" who have done nothing to deserve the attention that is given
them for any reason other than beauty, bad behavior and a willingness to make fools of themselves. Even sadder is the American willingness to
pay for access to that or to accept it as "entertainment" (I refuse to call it news). When I turned to my co-workers and said how sad I was that
Benazir Bhutto had been assassinated, each of them looked at me and said, "Who's that?" This is another indication that many Americans pay
little attention to the events unfolding outside our borders and how profoundly they can affect our own political situation.
The United States had encouraged Benazir Bhutto to return to Pakistan with the hope that she might be a political moderate that would keep
the peace in Pakistan — a country well-armed with nuclear weapons — and thus secure the country from political and religious extremists. Now
we find ourselves with another country that is becoming unstable and faces an uncertain future. We can ill afford another battle front.
The sadness that I feel when I consider the plight of women around the world and here in America who carry on a quiet heroism — often in the
face of extreme poverty, daily threats of violence, poor job prospects and a lack of educational opportunities — makes me continue to believe
that it truly is "a man's world." This is not feminist rhetoric, as I know there are successful women who thrive, but often they seem to be the
exception and frequently work in relative obscurity.
Some year's back I watched a video from India entitled "Bandit Queen," a film based loosely on the life of a real woman named Phoolan Devi,
which I am sure was somewhat embellished for "Bollywood" purposes. The truth lies somewhere in a birth of a woman into an impoverished, low
caste family. At the very young age of 11, she was married to an older and very abusive man from whom she finally fled or was rejected by. She
was brought back to the village and raped by other villagers in punishment for the shame she brought to the village. In another version of the story,
her father was in a land dispute with other villagers and she was raped by a local policeman. Her own family disowned her in shame and,
according to the stories, she connected with a gang of bandits. In much the same manner as our own Patty Hearst story, she came to empathize
with their credo and became something of a folk hero to the peasants of India as they saw her fighting for their rights. Even as a member of the
bandit or dacoit troop, she faced the danger of rape from one of the group leaders, only to be protected by another member. Ultimately, Phoolan
Devi returned to the village where she was raped and her gang murdered the men who had attacked her. This led to a large scale manhunt for
Phoolan who negotiated terms of surrender with the government of Indira Gandhi.
In 1983, she surrendered and served about 11 years in prison. Upon her release, she ran for parliament and was elected on a wave of popular
support from the lower castes of India. It was during a second term in 2001 that she was assassinated by men claiming to be seeking revenge for
the killings of the men in the village of Behmai where she grew up. She too was killed in her car, as she was in the habit of going home for lunch
every day. The men who killed her were eventually caught and claimed it was a revenge killing.
Rape is often used as a means of punishing a woman or her family. There is no more brutal or demoralizing thing you can do to a woman,
except of course to kill her or strip her of her humanity or her ability to support herself and her family.
Even here in America, women are often viewed as "collateral damage" in political fights. Valerie Plame was a victim of a political vendetta
against her husband. Ms. Plame was an undercover CIA operative who was exposed by a leaked memo from a source deep inside Washington
politics. Her husband, Joseph Wilson IV, was a career diplomat who held various foreign-service posts in Africa under George H. Bush. He
published an opinion editorial entitled "What I Didn't Find in Africa" which undermined the stated purpose of the current Iraq conflict because he
saw no evidence of the enriched uranium transfers which were allegedly going to Iraq from Niger. This uranium was supposedly fueling a non
existent nuclear weapons program attributed to Saddam Hussein. There is no argument that Saddam Hussein was a brutal dictator and, for many
humanitarian reasons, needed sanctions or removal. Ms. Plame will continue on with a career as a public speaker and you may argue that
perhaps this is a safer job for her, but who is to say what she may have accomplished in her previous career?
Too little value is placed on the contributions of women and this perpetuates the idea that they are somehow disposable. Consequently, little
effort is made to educate women in developing nations and indeed, in some countrie, a premium is placed on male infants with the result that
female infants are aborted or sent away, marked for death or an uncertain future. Sadly, the downside of this action is that there are too few
marriageable women in some countries. Our human culture will only succeed when all genders are recognized as valuable contributors to the
societies in which they live and that no life can be made forfeit for political gain or to draw attention to a cause.
many injustices suffered by women in both the political arena and as "collateral damage" in conflicts all over the world. There was something
more to Benazir Bhutto's death than political implications (and I don't mean to minimize the many horrific possibilities that open up and the truth
of which may never be known). The people who committed the immediate crime are dead and now only their handlers know the truth. Blame is
now resting on a known "jihadist" sympathetic to al Qaeda, Baitullah Mahsud. What is most troublesome to me is that women who speak out for
justice or stand up for their rights or the rights of others seem to end up dead or at the very least, demonized by the press for speaking out. I won't
even begin to address the notoriety granted to certain American "media sensations" who have done nothing to deserve the attention that is given
them for any reason other than beauty, bad behavior and a willingness to make fools of themselves. Even sadder is the American willingness to
pay for access to that or to accept it as "entertainment" (I refuse to call it news). When I turned to my co-workers and said how sad I was that
Benazir Bhutto had been assassinated, each of them looked at me and said, "Who's that?" This is another indication that many Americans pay
little attention to the events unfolding outside our borders and how profoundly they can affect our own political situation.
The United States had encouraged Benazir Bhutto to return to Pakistan with the hope that she might be a political moderate that would keep
the peace in Pakistan — a country well-armed with nuclear weapons — and thus secure the country from political and religious extremists. Now
we find ourselves with another country that is becoming unstable and faces an uncertain future. We can ill afford another battle front.
The sadness that I feel when I consider the plight of women around the world and here in America who carry on a quiet heroism — often in the
face of extreme poverty, daily threats of violence, poor job prospects and a lack of educational opportunities — makes me continue to believe
that it truly is "a man's world." This is not feminist rhetoric, as I know there are successful women who thrive, but often they seem to be the
exception and frequently work in relative obscurity.
Some year's back I watched a video from India entitled "Bandit Queen," a film based loosely on the life of a real woman named Phoolan Devi,
which I am sure was somewhat embellished for "Bollywood" purposes. The truth lies somewhere in a birth of a woman into an impoverished, low
caste family. At the very young age of 11, she was married to an older and very abusive man from whom she finally fled or was rejected by. She
was brought back to the village and raped by other villagers in punishment for the shame she brought to the village. In another version of the story,
her father was in a land dispute with other villagers and she was raped by a local policeman. Her own family disowned her in shame and,
according to the stories, she connected with a gang of bandits. In much the same manner as our own Patty Hearst story, she came to empathize
with their credo and became something of a folk hero to the peasants of India as they saw her fighting for their rights. Even as a member of the
bandit or dacoit troop, she faced the danger of rape from one of the group leaders, only to be protected by another member. Ultimately, Phoolan
Devi returned to the village where she was raped and her gang murdered the men who had attacked her. This led to a large scale manhunt for
Phoolan who negotiated terms of surrender with the government of Indira Gandhi.
In 1983, she surrendered and served about 11 years in prison. Upon her release, she ran for parliament and was elected on a wave of popular
support from the lower castes of India. It was during a second term in 2001 that she was assassinated by men claiming to be seeking revenge for
the killings of the men in the village of Behmai where she grew up. She too was killed in her car, as she was in the habit of going home for lunch
every day. The men who killed her were eventually caught and claimed it was a revenge killing.
Rape is often used as a means of punishing a woman or her family. There is no more brutal or demoralizing thing you can do to a woman,
except of course to kill her or strip her of her humanity or her ability to support herself and her family.
Even here in America, women are often viewed as "collateral damage" in political fights. Valerie Plame was a victim of a political vendetta
against her husband. Ms. Plame was an undercover CIA operative who was exposed by a leaked memo from a source deep inside Washington
politics. Her husband, Joseph Wilson IV, was a career diplomat who held various foreign-service posts in Africa under George H. Bush. He
published an opinion editorial entitled "What I Didn't Find in Africa" which undermined the stated purpose of the current Iraq conflict because he
saw no evidence of the enriched uranium transfers which were allegedly going to Iraq from Niger. This uranium was supposedly fueling a non
existent nuclear weapons program attributed to Saddam Hussein. There is no argument that Saddam Hussein was a brutal dictator and, for many
humanitarian reasons, needed sanctions or removal. Ms. Plame will continue on with a career as a public speaker and you may argue that
perhaps this is a safer job for her, but who is to say what she may have accomplished in her previous career?
Too little value is placed on the contributions of women and this perpetuates the idea that they are somehow disposable. Consequently, little
effort is made to educate women in developing nations and indeed, in some countrie, a premium is placed on male infants with the result that
female infants are aborted or sent away, marked for death or an uncertain future. Sadly, the downside of this action is that there are too few
marriageable women in some countries. Our human culture will only succeed when all genders are recognized as valuable contributors to the
societies in which they live and that no life can be made forfeit for political gain or to draw attention to a cause.
Debby Tewes is Asian
Wisconzine's
correspondent in the
Milwaukee area.
Wisconzine's
correspondent in the
Milwaukee area.