MONDAY, JUNE 15, 2009 Copyright © 2009 The New York Times

Supplemento al numero

odierno de la Repubblica

Sped. abb. postale art. 1

legge 46/04 del 27/02/2004 — Roma

LENS

Many people have a negative at-

titude about manual labor. In the age

of information, prestigious jobs do not

require getting your hands dirty.

The push toward processing data

and away from making things

comes from “a vision of the

future in which we somehow

take leave of material reality

and glide about in a pure infor-

mation economy,” Matthew

B. Crawford wrote in The New

York Times Magazine.

But the downturn has

brought into sharp relief that

the road away from material real-

ity does not lead to a utopia. Many

“knowledge workers” are looking

anew at the prospect of working with

their hands. Some are making politi-

cal statements through their jobs,

while others are preparing for the

worst in a dismal economy.

The goal is to develop

skills that cannot be out-

sourced. “You can’t hammer

a nail over the Internet,” Al-

an Blinder, an economist at

Princeton University in New

Jersey, told Mr. Crawford.

You can’t raise chickens

over the Internet, either,

which is one reason farms are at-

tracting young workers in the United

States and Japan.

“I had nothing much to lose, and in

times like these, I felt I needed to learn

to make my own living,” Shinji Akim-

oto, 31, a former information technol-

ogy worker, told The Times’s Hiroko

Tabachi. Mr. Akimoto is part of the

Japanese government’s Rural Labor

Squad, which is training 2,400 jobless

young people to work on farms.

The new agrarians often have

political motivations. Alex Liebman,

19, an American biology student, is

on his third farm internship. “I’m not

sure that I can affect how messed up

poverty is in Africa or change politics

in Washington, but on the farm I can

see the fruits of my labor,” he told The

Times’s Kim Severson. “By waking up

every day and working the field and

putting my principles into action, I am

making a conscious political decision.”

In Pakistan, a group of college stu-

dents meets every Sunday to pick up

trash in the streets, usually a job left to

the poor and uneducated, according to

a Times article by Sabrina Tavernise.

“Everybody keeps blaming the gov-

ernment, but no one actually does any-

thing,” Shoaib Ahmed, 21, one of the

organizers of Responsible Citizens,

said. “So we thought, why don’t we?”

Some employees in troubled indus-

tries like banking and media think

about a backup career plan. “Plan B

typically offers less money and pres-

tige than Plan A, but promises a more

hands-on, stress-free and fulfilling

existence,” wrote Alex Williams in

The Times. He then tried three of

those jobs — dog masseuse, chocolate

maker and farmer — and learned

some lessons along the way.

Mr. Williams discovered that

wrestling squirming dogs, botching

a recipe for chili-flavored truffles and

struggling to pull out bloody chicken

innards with his hands lost their lus-

ter. Romanticizing the manual life is a

lot easier than living it.

People are also learning the pitfalls

of doing work around the house on

their own, according to a Times article

by Susan Saulny. With the economy

in a slump, more are seeking to save

money by fixing things themselves.

Carol Taddei, a retired paralegal,

tried to install a new toilet herself. She

ended up with a leaking toilet, a col-

lapsed ceiling and a $3,000 repair bill.

While there is much to be said for a

fresh look at manual labor, some things

are best left to the professionals.

By VIKAS BAJAJ and KEITH BRADSHER

MUMBAI, India

IF INVESTORS IN New York and London are

seeing the first delicate signs of a recovery, their

counterparts in developing countries say they are

witnessing a full-on rebound.

After a crushing fall in the last year and a half, stock

markets in developing countries are riding a wave of

optimism that the recovery of the global economy

is at hand and being led by the developing

world, especially China. Though emerging

markets remain far below the highs

they attained more than a year ago,

investors are again viewing their chances of growth as

better than those of the United States or Europe.

As a result, the Indian Nifty stock index has jumped

over 60 percent in the last three months. China’s CSI

300 index of shares in Shanghai and Shenzhen and Bra-

zil’s Bovespa have each increased around 35 percent

over the same period. By comparison, the Standard &

Poor’s 500’s gain of about 25 percent looks modest.

“There was a stampede for the exits in the fourth

quarter,’’ said Gonzalo S. Pangaro, portfolio manager

of the T. Rowe Price Emerging Markets Stock Fund.

“The market is starting to realize that although

these markets face issues, they are manageable is-

sues.’’

So much so that analysts have attributed some of the

recent gains in the S.& P. to investors’ belief that the

Chinese economy is improving.

But it is not just China that is generating optimism.

While industrial production has rebounded in China,

so have car sales in India and retail sales in Brazil.

Could all this be irrational exuberance? Current val-

uations are extremely rich: the price of stocks on the

MING UONG/THE NEW YORK TIMES

New Respect for Manual Labor

Con tin ued on Page IV

Signs of a global upturn, with little

help from Europe and America.

III VIIVIWORLD TRENDS

To Czechs, migrants

now pose a threat.

PERSONALITIES

The pull of strings in

West Bank’s turmoil.

SCIENCE & TECHNOLOGY

Where stories and gifts

are crucial to survival.

Developing Markets Bloom Again

INTELLIGENCE: End of war promises no peace in Sri Lanka, Page III.

For comments, write to nytweekly@nytimes.com.

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O P I N I O N & C O M M E N TA R Y

II MONDAY, JUNE 15, 2009

‘Buy American’ ClauseProves Unworkable

It’s not surprising that Democrats

in Congress could not resist adding a

“Buy American” provision to the fiscal

stimulus bill earlier this year. It might

seem sensible (or at least politically

useful) to ensure that taxpayer dollars

would be used exclusively to support

American jobs.

But as states and municipalities

start spending stimulus money, the

idea is starting to look as counterpro-

ductive as it should have looked from

the beginning. It is sparking conflict

with American allies and, rather than

supporting employment at home, the

“Buy American” effort could ultimate-

ly cost American jobs.

Foreign and domestic companies

that employworkers in America cannot

bid for government projects because

they cannot guarantee the American

provenance of all the steel, iron and

manufactured goods in their supply

chain, as the provision requires. Others

are scrambling to figure out whether

American-made alternatives exist to

replace their foreign inputs.

The steel company Duferco Farrell,

for example, has cut about 600 jobs in

Pennsylvania after it lost orders from

its biggest customer because some of

its goods are partly produced abroad.

The Westlake Chemical Corporation

of Houston has lost sales to a Cana-

dian vinyl pipe maker that is cutting

back production because it can’t bid

for some American jobs.

America’s trading partners ex-

pected more of President Obama, who

signed a declaration against protec-

tionism at the summit of the biggest na-

tions in April. He convinced Congress

to add a clause to its “Buy American”

effort promising Washington would

meet its international obligations. But

cities and some states are not bound

by the rules of the World Trade Orga-

nization and the North American Free

Trade Agreement.

Some allies, and many American

companies, expected the president

would seek to persuade local govern-

ments to abide by federal rules, but in

April the Office of Management and

Budget issued interim guidelines that

offered no such guidance.

Hundreds of municipalities and

some state legislatures have signed

on to a “Buy American” resolution

pushed by the United Steelworkers

union. And the House of Representa-

tives stuck provisions requiring the

use of American materials into bills

about water quality improvement and

new school facilities.

Meanwhile, representatives of Aus-

tralia, Brazil, Canada, the European

Union, Japan and Mexico have been

consulting about how to respond to the

United States’ protectionist drive. Af-

ter Canadian companies were barred

from bidding for American business,

news reports say that some 12 Cana-

dian cities passed ordinances against

buying American.

Industries like water and wastewa-

ter treatment are highly integrated

with their Canadian counterparts, with

exports to Canada in 2008 worth $6.2

billion and imports worth $4 billion. Ac-

cording to the United States Chamber

of Commerce, retaliation by Canadian

municipalities could cost American wa-

ter equipment companies an estimated

$3 billion in lost business.

An analysis this year by Jeffrey

Schott and Gary Clyde Hufbauer of the

Peterson Institute for International

Economics in Washington estimated

that “Buy American” provisions could

“save” 9,000 American jobs — a tiny

number compared with the 650,000

jobs supported by foreign government

procurement of American exports.

Whether from the point of view of

diplomacy or job creation, “Buy Ameri-

can” is a terrible idea. One that could

make the global recession worse.

LONDON

What would have happened if

hanging chads and the Supreme

Court hadn’t denied Al Gore the

White House in 2000? Many things

would clearly have been different

over the next eight years.

But one thing would probably have

been the same: There would have

been a huge housing bubble and a fi-

nancial crisis when the bubble burst.

And if Democrats had been in power

when the bad news arrived, they

would have taken the blame, even

though things would surely have

been as bad or worse under Repub-

lican rule.

You now understand the essentials

of the current political situation in

Britain.

For much of the past 30 years, poli-

tics and policy here and in America

have moved in tandem.

In both countries, the conservatives

who pushed through deregulation lost

power in the 1990s. In each case, how-

ever, the new leaders were as infatuat-

ed with “innovative” finance as their

predecessors were. Robert Rubin, in

his years as the Treasury secretary,

and Gordon Brown, in his years as the

chancellor of the Exchequer, preached

the same gospel.

But where America’s conserva-

tive movement managed to claw its

way back to power at the beginning

of this decade, in Britain, the Labor

Party continued to rule right through

the bubble. Mr. Brown became prime

minister. And so the Bush bust in

America is the Brown bust here.

Do Mr. Brown and his party really

deserve blame for the crisis here?

Yes and no.

Mr. Brown fully accepted the

dogma that the market knows best,

that less regulation is more. In 2005

he called for “trust in the responsible

company, the engaged employee and

the educated consumer” and insisted

that regulation should have “not just

a light touch but a limited touch.”

There’s no question that this zeal

for deregulation set Britain up for a

fall. Consider the counterexample of

Canada — a mostly English-speak-

ing country, every bit as much in the

American orbit as Britain, but one

where Reagan/Thatcher-type fi-

nancial deregulation never took hold.

Canadian banks have been a pillar of

stability in the crisis. But while Mr.

Brown and his party may deserve

to be punished, their political oppo-

nents don’t deserve to be rewarded.

After all, would a Conservative

government have been any less in the

thrall of free-market fundamental-

ism, any more willing to rein in run-

away finance, over the past decade?

Of course not.

And Mr. Brown’s response to the

crisis — a burst of activism to make

up for his past passivity — makes

sense, whereas that of his opponents

does not.

The Brown government has moved

aggressively to shore up troubled

banks. This has potentially made

taxpayers liable for large future

bills, but the financial situation has

stabilized. Mr. Brown has backed

the Bank of England, which, like the

Federal Reserve, has engaged in un-

conventional moves to free up credit.

And he has shown himself willing to

run large budget deficits now, even

while scheduling substantial tax in-

creases for the future.

All of this seems to be working.

Leading indicators have turned

(slightly) positive, suggesting that

Britain, whose competitiveness has

benefited from the devaluation of the

pound, will begin an economic recov-

ery well before the rest of Europe.

Meanwhile, David Cameron, the

Conservative leader, has had little to

offer other than fiscal panic and de-

mands that the British government

tighten its belt immediately.

Now, many commentators have

raised the alarm about Britain’s fis-

cal outlook, and one rating agency

has warned that the country may lose

its AAA status (although the others

disagree). But markets don’t seem

unduly worried: the interest rate on

long-term British debt is only slightly

higher than that on German debt, not

what you’d expect from a country

doomed to bankruptcy.

Still, if an election were held today,

Mr. Brown and his party would lose

badly. They were in power when the

bad stuff happened, and the buck —

or in this case, I guess, the quid —

stops at No. 10 Downing Street.

If I were a member of the Obama

administration’s economic team —

a team whose top members were as

enthusiastic about the wonders of

modern finance as their British coun-

terparts — I’d be looking across the

Atlantic and muttering, “There but

for the disgrace of Bush v. Gore go I.”

E D I T O R I A L S O F T H E T I M E S

Add this to the weird reasons to love

New York City: Less than a week af-

ter Times Square became an outdoor

lounge, it’s already hard to find a seat

in the crossroads of the world.

Mayor Michael Bloomberg closed

large swaths of Broadway to traffic

and filled Times Square with plastic

lawn chairs in gaudy pink, blue and

PAUL KRUGMAN

Gordon the Unlucky

It’s hard to know whether to laugh

or cry after reading the reactions of

analysts and officials in the Middle

East to President Obama’s Cairo

speech. “It’s not what he says, but

what he does,” many said. No, ladies

and gentlemen of the Middle East, it

is what he says and what you do and

whatwe do. We must help, but we can’t

want democracy or peace more than

you do.

What should we be doing? The fol-

low-up to the president’s speech will

have to be led by Secretary of State

Hillary Clinton. This will be her first

big test, and, for me, there is no ques-

tion as to where she should be putting

all her energy: on the peace process.

No, not the one between Israelis

and Palestinians. That one’s prob-

ably beyond diplomacy. No, I’m talk-

ing about the peace process that is

much more strategically important

— the one inside Iraq.

The most valuable thing that Mrs.

Clinton could do right now is to lead a

sustained effort to resolve the linger-

ing disputes between Iraqi factions

before we complete our withdrawal.

Why? Because if Iraq unravels as

we draw down, the Obama team will

be blamed, and it will be a huge mess.

By contrast, if a decent and stable

political order can take hold in Iraq,

it could have an extremely positive

impact on the future of the Arab world

and on America’s reputation.

I have never agreed with the argu-

ment that Iraq was the bad war, Af-

ghanistan the good war and Pakistan

the necessary war. Folks, they’re all

one war with different fronts. It’s a

war within the Arab-Muslim world

between progressive and anti-mod-

ernist forces over how this faith com-

munity is going to adapt to modernity

— modern education, consensual

politics, the balance between religion

and state and the rights of women.

Any decent outcome in Iraq would

bolster all the progressive forces by

creating an example of something

that does not exist in the Middle East

today — an independent, democratiz-

ing Arab-Muslim state.

“The reason there are no successful

Arab democracies today is because

there is no successful Arab democ-

racy today,” said Larry Diamond, a

professor at Stanford University the

author of “The Spirit of Democracy.”

“When there is no model, it is hard for

an idea to diffuse in a region.”

Rightly or wrongly, we stepped into

the middle of this war of ideas in the

Arab-Muslim world in 2003 when we

decapitated the Iraqi regime and went

about clumsily midwifing something

that the modern Arab world has never

seen before — a horizontal dialogue

between the constituent communities

of an Arab state. In Iraq’s case, that is

primarily Sunnis, Shiites and Kurds.

Yes, in a region that has only known

top-down monologues from kings,

dictators and colonial powers, we

have helped Iraqis convene the first

horizontal dialogue for how to share

power.

At first, this dialogue took place pri-

marily through violence. Liberated

from Saddam’s iron fist, each Iraqi

community tested its strength against

the others, saying in effect: “Show me

what you got, baby.” The violence was

horrific and ultimately exhausting

for all. So now we’ve entered a period

of negotiations over how Iraq will be

governed. But it’s unfinished and vio-

lence could easily return.

And that brings me to Secretary

Clinton. I do not believe the argument

that Iraqis will not allow us to help

mediate their disputes — whether

over Kirkuk, oil-sharing or federal-

ism. For years now, our president,

secretary of state and secretary of

defense have flown into Iraq, met

the leaders for a few hours and then

flown away, not to return for months.

We need a more serious, weighty

effort. Hate the war, hate Bush, but

don’t hate the idea of trying our best

to finish this right.

This is important. Afghanistan is

secondary. Baghdad is a great Arab

and Muslim capital. Iraq has some-

thing no other Arab country has in

abundance: water, oil and an educat-

ed population. It already has sprouted

scores of newspapers and TV stations

that operate freely. “Afghanistan will

never have any impact outside of Af-

ghanistan. Iraq can change minds,”

said Mamoun Fandy, of the Interna-

tional Institute for Strategic Studies.

You demonstrate that Iraqi Shiites,

Sunnis and Kurds can write their

own social contract, and you will tell

the whole Arab world that there is a

model other than top-down mono-

logues from iron-fisted dictators. You

will expose the phony democracy in

Iran, and you will leave a legacy for

America that will help counter Abu

Ghraib and torture.

Ultimately, which way Iraq goes

will depend on whether its elites de-

cide to use their freedom to loot their

country or to rebuild it. That’s still

unclear. But we still have a chance to

push things there in the right direc-

tion, and a huge interest in doing so.

Mrs. Clinton is a serious person; this

is a serious job. I hope she does it.

THOMAS L. FRIEDMAN

After Cairo, It’s Clinton Time

The U.S. shouldhelp along the peace process — in Iraq.

Editorial Notebook/ELEANOR RANDOLPH

The Best Seats in Times Squaregreen as one of his experiments in

making the city more livable. The

question of whether New Yorkers

would like the innovation is already

answered. The big problem is finding

a free chair.

“Today is the first day I’ve found

a place to sit,” Rachelle Bulgin, a

19-year-old college student who works

nearby, said on Thursday afternoon.

“It’s kinda cool.”

The chair scene has quickly become

another New York phenomenon, pro-

viding the tourists that fill the area

with another reason to gape at the lo-

cals. Soon after the chairs were intro-

duced last month, one man created an

outdoor living room with a rug, lamp

and three plastic seats. It had to go

at midnight, when workers lock the

chairs up for the night.

New Yorkers are taking their work

to Broadway’s outdoor salons between

42nd and 47th Streets and across

from Macy’s on 34th Street. There

are laptops galore, and one executive

pulled a few of the chairs in a circle this

week for a business meeting, his wis-

dom further illuminated by the neon

lights flashing overhead.

Mostly, however, people simply sit.

They rest their feet and unload their

parcels. “There are not many places

like this to stop and catch your breath,”

explained Debbie Adams, a tourist

from South Africa.

Repubblica NewYork

W O R L D T R E N D S

MONDAY, JUNE 15, 2009 III

By DAN BILEFSKY

PRAGUE — Trieu Dinh Van’s long

journey two years ago from the rice

paddies of northern Vietnam to a

truck-welding factory in the Czech Re-

public was supposed to open up an eco-

nomic lifeline. His parents, poor farm-

ers, bet everything on him, putting up

the family farm as collateral for a loan

of about $14,000 to pay an agent for his

plane ticket and working visa.

Instead, Mr. Van, 25, is jobless,

homeless and heavily indebted in a

faraway land, set adrift by a global

economic crisis that swallowed his

$11-an-hour job and those of thousands

among the wave of 20,000 Vietnamese

workers who came here in 2007.

The Vietnamese workers are part of

a larger influx of poor Asian workers,

including tens of thousands from Chi-

na, Mongolia and elsewhere, who were

recruited to come to Eastern Europe

to become low-skilled foot soldiers in

then booming economies. Now, they

have been hit hard by the sudden con-

traction of those economies.

In the Czech Republic, rising unem-

ployment, which economists think

could hit 8 percent by year’s end, has

driven many Czechs to seek the low-

wage work they once left to foreign

laborers.

There has been a corresponding

surge of resentment against minori-

ties here. Czechs are unhappy about

the presence of Vietnamese workers

in particular, even though there is a

longstanding Vietnamese communi-

ty here, born amid the fraternal work

programs in the 1970s.

“The Czechs don’t like us because

we look different,’’ said Mr. Van, who

lamented that he had already been ac-

In Sri Lanka, peace could end up being

worse than the civil war that has just ended

— and not just for the Tamil Tiger rebels, who

were the losers. The government is in a trium-

phant mood, and there is fear in the streets of

Colombo. Journalists, human rights activists,

and scholars who are critical of the govern-

ment are being killed, assaulted or menaced.

Sri Lanka defies religious stereotypes, with

Hindu and Catholic suicide bombers and Bud-

dhist death squads; Muslims are the most

nonviolent of its peoples. It’s the most beauti-

ful country I’ve ever seen, and also the blood-

iest; the United Nations puts the number of

deaths since 1983 at 80,000 to 100,000.

I visited the rebels in a jungle camp in early

2002, just after a cease-fire had been declared.

In the territory the Tamils ruled, they lived

in desperate conditions, thanks to a govern-

ment blockade. When I wanted to hear the

BBC news, someone pedaled a bicycle, which

powered a generator, which supplied electric-

ity to a radio.

All they had to sustain themselves was an

unshakeable belief in an independent home-

land. So they held out against the government

for a quarter of a century — until the West des-

ignated them as terrorists, and the Chinese

stepped in with cash. Last year, China gave

a billion dollars to Sri Lanka to fight the war,

which turned the tide against the rebels. In

return, China got access to a deepwater port

in the island nation.

In Sri Lanka, as elsewhere, China has con-

ducted an amoral foreign policy. China is not

a colonial power; it has no interest in acquir-

ing land or souls. What it wants is resources.

By 2020, China will only have enough domes-

tic reserves to supply six out of 45 strategic

minerals. Anticipating these shortages, the

Chinese government supports some of the

worst tyrants on the planet: Zimbabwe’s

Robert Mugabe, Myanmar’s crackpot junta,

North Korea’s Kim Jong-Il, Sudan’s Omar al-

Bashir.

Beijing’s regime doesn’t care who’s in

power and what they do to their people, as

long as China gets its manganese or bauxite.

Its official policy is non-interference in these

countries’ internal affairs. But it does run

interference for their governments — in the

Security Council, where it blocks any action

against its clients.

Dissent is as dangerous in Colombo as in

Beijing. A Sri Lankan friend who organizes an

arts festival, and is well connected in Colombo

social and political circles, told me: “The peo-

ple getting hit the hardest at the moment are

the journalists and international NGO’s . . . I

know of friends with visas revoked after liv-

ing here 20 years; and or kicked out, jailed be-

cause of seemingly ‘benign’ information.’ ”

Then, fearful of who might be monitoring her

communications, she adds, “I assume you

are hearing my message loud and clear . . . ”

Fourteen journalists critical of government

policies have been murdered since 2006.

In the streets, there’s an orgy of national-

ism that could turn around and feed on itself.

What most foreigners don’t realize is that

there was another civil war in the country

in the ’80s, a Maoist student insurgency, that

took almost as many lives as the war with the

Tamils, according to various human rights

groups.

The Tigers were bad for Sri Lanka, and

worse for the Tamils they claimed to repre-

sent. They began as a national liberation

movement and denigrated into a murderous

band of thugs led by the late Velupillai Prab-

hakaran, a cult-like dictator who I learned

during my stay with the Tigers insisted on

personally preparing the last meal for suicide

squads.

But that is no excuse for the government to

shell and kill tens of thousands of civilians, or

to intern the Tamil population of the North

en masse, as it has done. Sri Lanka must put

into place a constitutional mechanism to

share power with the Tamils. A country that

safeguards the rights of its minorities also

safeguards, by extension, the rights of every

single person in the majority.

PHOTOGRAPHS BY MILAN JAROS FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES

Suketu Mehta is the author of “MaximumCity: Bombay Lost and Found.”

Vietnamese Find Czech Welcome Cools in Bad Times

INTELLIGENCE/SUKETU MEHTA

A Baleful Peace Descends On Sri Lanka

costed in Chocen, the small industrial

town in eastern Bohemia where he

worked, by locals shouting, “Vietnam-

ese, go home!’’

The government has responded by

trying to find ways to ship out Asian

immigrants. Under a voluntary return

policy started in February, any unem-

ployed foreign worker who wants to go

home is eligible for free one-way air or

rail fare and about $700 in cash.

In the first two months, about 2,000

Mongolians, Ukrainians and Kazakhs

took up the offer. But like Mr. Van,

many of the Vietnamese workers here,

saddled with debt, would prefer to stay

and wait for better times.

“It would not be good for me to go

back to Vietnam,’’ he said on a recent

day. “I would return home with empty

hands and couldn’t marry or build a

house. That would be a great shame

for me.’’

Ivan Langer, who until recently was

the interior minister and devised the

return policy, said he worried that

an estimated 12,000 jobless foreign

workers were vulnerable to becoming

involved in organized crime or being

exploited as slave labor.

Julie Lien Vrbkova, who has worked

as a Vietnamese interpreter at sev-

eral automobile factories in the Czech

Republic, said she had been shocked

by “slave-like’’ working conditions,

including 12-hour days during which

Vietnamese workers were beaten if

they stopped working.

The tensions are a troubling setback

for the Vietnamese community here,

long considered a regional success sto-

ry. Many own thriving corner shops,

speak Czech and send their children to

mainstream public schools.

After the overthrow of Communism

in 1989, thousands more Vietnamese

joined those who arrived in the 1970s.

Today there are an estimated 70,000

Vietnamese in the Czech Republic, the

second largest foreign community af-

ter Ukrainians.

But Vietnamese leaders here say

they fear the new class of dispossessed

workers threatens to disturb a coexis-

tence they built over decades.

The challenges of assimilation are

evident at Sapa, a sprawling Vietnam-

ese market on the outskirts of Prague,

where newly arrived migrants can

find Vietnamese hairdressers, Viet-

namese insurance companies and a

thriving business of Czech-speaking

Vietnamese “middlemen,’’ who can

arrange for visas, take fellow Viet-

namese to doctors and attend parent-

teacher meetings as surrogates.

Tran Qang Hung, the managing di-

rector of Sapa, said many jobless mi-

grants were coming to the market in

a vain search for work. “Now that the

economy is bad, the Czechs don’t want

these people here,’’ he said. “They only

want them to go home.’’

Trieu Dinh Van’s parents borrowed $14,000 to sendhim to the Czech Republic. Heis now jobless. Prague’s Sapa marketplace caters to Vietnameseresidents.

Repubblica NewYork

P E R S O N A L I T I E S

MONDAY, JUNE 15, 2009 VII

By ANDREW JACOBS

BEIJING — Soaked in sweat, his heart rac-

ing, Chen Guang descended the steps of China’s

Great Hall of the People and aimed his automatic

rifle at the sea of student protesters occupying

Tiananmen Square. A 17-year-old soldier from

the countryside, Mr. Chen and his comrades had

just been given chilling orders: to clear the sym-

bolic heart of the nation, even if it meant spilling

blood.

“We were assured there would be no legal con-

sequences if we opened fire,” Mr. Chen recalled.

“My only hope was that the students would not

put up a fight.”

Twenty years after Chinese troops shot their

way into the center of Beijing, killing hundreds

of people and wounding many more, Mr. Chen

provided a rare window into the military crack-

down that re-established the Communist Party’s

supremacy after six weeks of mass unrest and

then, for most Chinese, disappeared from official

history.

Speaking publicly for the first time, he ex-

plained how soldiers from the 65th Group Army

dressed in civilian clothes on June 3 and stealth-

ily made their way to the Great Hall on Tianan-

men Square’s western edge. At midnight, they

faced off against demonstrators.

“I can assure you I didn’t shoot anyone,” he

said.

Now an artist and a bit of a provocateur living

on the outskirts of Beijing, Mr. Chen said he spent

the next 20 years suppressing memories of that

day. But last year he began working on a series

of paintings based on hundreds of photographs,

taken at his unit’s request while he was on the

square. They include gauzy images of protest-

ers commandeering a public bus, exuberant

students parading with pro-democracy banners

and soldiers feeding their abandoned encamp-

ments into bonfires.

“For 20 years I tried to bury this episode, but

the older you get the more these things float to

the surface,” he said. “I think it’s time for my ex-

periences, my truth, to be shared with the rest of

the world.”

But by publicizing his experiences through

his art, Mr. Chen risks provoking the authori-

ties, who are eager to suppress discussion of the

episode and excise June 4 from public memory.

Mr. Chen says he is not worried about the conse-

quences of speaking out, even if he has received

warnings to keep his paintings to himself.

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” he said. “I’m

just talking about my experiences.”

Raised in rural Henan Province, the son of a

factory worker, he dropped out of high school at

15 because, he said, he was a poor student. He

wanted to be an artist, but everyone told him that

was no way to make a living. “The pressure from

my family was intense so I decided to join the ar-

my,” he said. Because enlistees had to be at least

18, he lied about his age.

Less than a year later, in mid-April, Beijing was

convulsed by protests touched off by the death

of Hu Yaobang, the Communist Party chief who

had been forced to resign to take responsibility

for what some rival leaders viewed as reckless

economic and political reforms. Mr. Chen said

he and his fellow soldiers understood little about

protests.

Less than a year after the suppression, Mr.

Chen enrolled in the military’s art school, then

transferred to the Chinese Academy of Fine Art.

In 1995, he left the army.

Although none of his early work refers directly

to Tiananmen Square, he said most of it had been

influenced by the trauma there. “Even if a con-

nection is hard to see, everything I do is touched

by that experience,” he said. Mr. Chen said he

saw soldiers bloodied by rocks and a protester

being rifle butted in the head by soldiers. But the

image that haunts him most is rather mundane.

As he was cleaning up the square that morning,

he spotted a luxuriant ponytail.

The clump of hair, held by a purple band, had

been crudely shorn, perhaps as an act of protest

but possibly the result of something more sinis-

ter. “It was a startling image,” he said. “I can’t

stop thinking about that hair and why it had been

cut off.”

In recent months, he has produced a score of

self-portraits. In each, his neck, shoulder and

chest are littered with scraps of hair.

His paintings are artistic depictions of history,

he insisted, not expressions of right or wrong.

The images are largely dispassionate, although

Mr. Chen has rendered them in a washed-out,

melancholy blue.

“I have no regrets about what I did,” he said.

“But I feel that this tragedy could have been

avoided. Maybe if we start talking about this

event, we can prevent it from happening again.”Xiyun Yang contributed research.

CHEN GUANG

An Artist Is Haunted by Memories of Tiananmen

“I can assure you I didn’t shoot anyone.”

SHEHADE SHELALDEH

Achieving Harmony Amid the Turmoil of the West BankBy DANIEL J. WAKIN

RAMALLAH, West Bank — The young man

was handy with tools. A carpenter’s nephew, he

liked to fix chairs, windows and door locks. At oth-

er times he would stand idly on the street corner.

Ramzi Aburedwan noticed him. Like the Pied

Piper, Mr. Aburedwan, a French-trained violist

raised in a Palestinian refugee camp, was trying

to lead Palestinian children into the world of mu-

sic: namely, a music center he was establishing in

an old quarter of the town.

But he had other ideas for the young man. The

center had received dozens of donated string in-

struments from Europe: instruments prone to

cracks, broken bridges and damaged scrolls.

The young man, Shehade Shelaldeh, would be-

come the violin repairman.

And so, two years later, after absorbing les-

sons from visiting volunteer luthiers and a three-

month apprenticeship in Italy, Mr. Shelaldeh,

18, has his own instrument repair shop. It is in a

former garage around the corner from the music

center, Al Kamandjati (“the Violinist”). He has

learned to fix instruments and replace the hair on

bows. He has already made two violins, one with

a tiny Palestinian flag on the tailpiece, which an-

chors the strings.

At work one day, Mr. Shelaldeh applied himself

to replacing a poor-quality, ill-fitting bridge on a

Chinese violin.

“My dream,” he said, “is to become a famous

instrument repairer.”

In a place all too familiar with the sounds of

gunfire, military vehicles and explosions, he said,

“Al Kamandjati taught us to hear music.”

The center, and Mr. Shelaldeh’s acquisition of a

trade born in the workshops of 17th-century Italy,

are part of a recently kindled interest in classical

music, both Western and Oriental, in the occupied

territories. Parents, students and teachers here

say it comes from the realization that culture is an

effective assertion of national identity, particu-

larly at a moment when the prospects for a Pales-

tinian state seem to be receding. It is also a way to

give idle young people something to focus on.

In Mr. Shelaldeh’s case, classical music means

a career. One of his main teachers, Paolo Sorgen-

tone, reached at his workshop in Florence, Italy,

last month, said that while the young man had a

lot to learn, he was a natural, “both in his hands

and in his head.”

Mr. Sorgentone said he had advised Mr. Shela-

ldeh and his family that he should gain real train-

ing and suggested Newark College in England,

well known for its violin-making and restora-

tion program. He applied and is waiting to hear

whether he has been accepted, and whether there

will be enough money to send him.

Mr. Aburedwan, 30, opened his center in 2006. It

now has about 400 students studying both West-

ern and Oriental instruments.

“I want these children to achieve something,”

he said. “That’s my dream, that they have a way

of expression, a way of living. I want these kids

to participate in the building of a Palestinian cul-

tural future.”

Mr. Aburedwan said he saw the young Mr. Shel-

aldeh, whose family — including eight children —

lived nearly next door to the center. He eventually

lured five of Mr. Shelaldeh’s siblings into music

lessons. The oud and the violin did not quite take

with Mr. Shelaldeh. But Mr. Aburedwan knew of

his propensity to work with his hands.

“He was like a technician of everything,” Mr.

Aburedwan said.

So when two violin makers, one French and

one Belgian, came to work on the center’s instru-

ments, he pushed Mr. Shelaldeh to spend time

watching. They gave him small tasks, like clean-

ing tools, and began showing him basic woodcut-

ting skills.

Every few months, luthiers sympathetic to the

project would visit to fix instruments and pass les-

sons on to Mr. Shelaldeh.“The instrument makers

were touched,” Mr. Aburedwan said, and gave as

much as they could.

It is the precision of the work that appeals

to him, Mr. Shelaldeh said, as well as the peace

that comes from working by himself, late into the

night.

“It’s a beautiful feeling,” he said recently. “I

want to work here and teach people.”

NORMA KAMALI

From Boutiques To Wal-Mart, A DesignerIn Her Element

DU BIN FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES

“My dream is to

become a famous instrument

repairer.”

By RUTH LA FERLA

Legends die hard around Norma Kamali.

In the fantasies of longtime fans, she is a

1970s-era disco queen. Others imagine a

vixen with darkly fetishistic leanings. Myths

have sprung up, too, around Ms. Kamali’s de-

signs, especially her puffer coat, made, it was

reported, from the sleeping bag she curled up

in at night after her divorce.

But over tea near her shop on West 56th

Street in Manhattan, Ms. Kamali was pre-

pared to set the record straight. Her disco

days are decades behind her, she said. And,

despite an archive that includes studded skirts

and bondage-wrapped playwear, she does not

harbor a fondness for latex and lace.

As for that fabled sleeping-bag coat: Af-

ter splitting with her husband, Mohammed

(Eddie) Kamali, in the mid-1970s, she took to

camping in the woods with a boyfriend. “It

was cold,” she recalled, “and I was always

getting up at night to go to the bathroom.” On

one particularly nippy night, she threw on

her sleeping bag and sprinted for the bush.

“As I was running,” she said, “I was thinking,

‘I need to put sleeves in this thing.’ ”

The rest is history. Variations of that semi-

nal Kamali design have inspired generations

of puffy down coats.

An enduring presence in an industry that

has brusquely disposed of many of her peers,

Ms. Kamali has hung onto her business and

to OMO (On My Own), her main Manhattan

store, through more than three decades and

several economic downturns. Her updated

spin on Grecian draped jerseys and sexy

fleece activewear, priced to sell at every level

of the marketplace — including the discount

retailer Wal-Mart — have made Ms. Kamali

a popular designer for lean times.

At 63, she remains “one of those perennial

American favorites, with both the general

shopper looking for style at a great price and

the hardcore fashionista who wants that spe-

cial something,” said Constance White, the

style director of eBay, where vintage Kamali

pieces are steadily sought after.

On the auction site, a little black shirtdress

made of stretch jersey sold for $39, nearly dou-

ble its original price at Wal-Mart, where Ms.

Kamali’s designs made their debut 16 months

ago under the NK for Wal-Mart label.

When she talks about her beauty secrets,

Ms. Kamali exudes a warmth that belies a

flinty tenacity. She never has had much use,

she said, for the orthodoxies of her trade.

“The idea of branding, we have to rethink

that,” she said. “Sometimes a label only gets

in the way.”

Working with Wal-Mart takes her back to

her improvisational roots. Her designs for the

chain are streamlined versions of the styles

she sells through OMO and Bergdorf Good-

man. She confines the plunging necklines, ef-

fusive draping and geometric cutouts mostly

to her New York shop.

But, she said: “I haven’t compromised any-

thing. If I think of something as lesser, it’s in-

sulting to the consumer.”

RINA CASTELNUOVO FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES

“The idea of branding,

we have to rethink that.

Sometimes a label

only gets in the way.”

TODD HEISLER/THE NEW YORK TIMES

Repubblica NewYork

By DEBORAH SONTAG

After a long courtship over the tele-

phone, Asma Ahmed, a painter in Ka-

rachi, Pakistan, married her fiancé,

Rafi-uddin Shikoh, a business con-

sultant in New York, in a bicontinen-

tal wedding by Webcam. When the

new bride then moved to New York, in

2002, she tried to create a new identity

through art.

In Pakistan Ms. Ahmed Shikoh’s

work had been sociopolitical, address-

ing what she saw as the country’s colo-

nization by American fast-food chains,

for instance.

In the United States, however, her

art turned deeply personal as she

grappled with her new role as an

immigrant and as a gradually more

observant Muslim. In her first Ameri-

can paintings Ms. Ahmed Shikoh rei-

magined the Statue of Liberty in her

own image: in a Pakistani wedding

dress, as a pregnant immigrant and

as a regal mother, baby on hip.

On the surface Ms. Ahmed Shikoh,

now 31, has little in common with

Negar Ahkami, 38, an Iranian-Amer-

ican artist, beyond the wall space that

they share in a new exhibition, “The

Seen and the Hidden: [Dis]Covering

the Veil,” at the Austrian Cultural Fo-

rum in Manhattan. Ms. Ahkami grew

up in suburban New Jersey and con-

siders herself only “technically Mus-

lim .”

Yet the two are both working to

create a new kind of Islamic art that

is modern, Westernized and female-

centric. “As women artists of Muslim

descent, Asma and Negar are both

trying to discover who they are, to look

at themselves and their heritage and

to get beyond stereotypes,” said Da-

vid Harper, a curator of the Austrian

exhibition.

“The Hidden and the Seen,” which

runs through August 29, features 15

artists, 13 of them women, of whom

Ms. Ahmed Shikoh and Ms. Ahkami

are the only full-time United States

residents. The exhibition is a partner

event of the Muslim Voices Festival

organized by the Brooklyn Academy

of Music, Asia Society and New York

University’s Center for Dialogues.

In this exhibition Ms. Ahmed Shikoh

and Ms. Ahkami seek to humanize the

individuals beneath the veil.

Ms. Ahkami’s piece is playful, acer-

bic and polished. It consists of eight

nesting dolls sumptuously repainted

as “Persian Dolls.” The outer doll is

stern, in full black chador. The ever

smaller dolls within wear Chanel head

scarves or cocktail dresses or, as with

the tiniest, nothing at all but curves.

“I have always struggled with the

images of humorless, somber Iranian

women in full-on black chador,” Ms.

Ahkami said. “For me these images

do not reflect the real Iranian women

any more than the images of the ha-

rem girls of the 19th century did.”

Ms. Ahmed Shikoh’s approach is

deeply earnest. After deciding to cov-

er her hair, Ms. Ahmed Shikoh started

keeping what she thought of as a hijab

PARIS — There is a civil contract

implied by photographs. Henri

Cartier-Bresson described shooting

pictures of people as a “sort of

violation,” adding, “if sensitivity is

lacking, there can be

something barbaric

about it.” There can

be, of course, and

not just when the

subject doesn’t like

the image.

We, viewing the pictures, are

complicit. As consumers of images

we bear witness through them. Or

we’re voyeurs. In either case we

complete a transaction. How we read

that message, whether indifferently

or with compassion, can have moral

dimensions.

All this is the familiarly messy,

philosophical heart of photography,

and it’s also the subject of a show

that just closed here, itself a mess.

“Controversies: A Legal and

Ethical History of Photography”

was organized by Christian Pirker

and Daniel Girardin, a lawyer and

a curator from Switzerland, where

the exhibition originated. Two-

hour lines spilled out the door of the

Bibliothèque Nationale here until

the end of last month. (The show

moves on to South America.) Inside,

visitors clustered before 80 or so

pictures, spanning the era of the

daguerreotype through Abu Ghraib.

Like everywhere else, sex

and violence sell in Paris.

“Controversies” ended with a David

LaChapelle photograph of a white

stallion nibbling on Angelina Jolie’s

bare breast, the ostensible excuse for

which was some legal squabble about

depicting sex with animals.

There were also wall texts about

copyright and fair use laws, about

public decency debates, hoaxes

and shifting social standards to

accompany pictures like Annelies

Strba’s photograph of a 12-year-

old girl named Sonja in her bubble

bath, Secundo Pia’s picture of the

Shroud of Turin and Todd Maisel’s

dismembered hand from 9/11.

Near Kevin Carter’s unbearable

1993 view of a starving, huddled

Sudanese child stalked by a vulture,

an advertisement by Oliviero Toscani

for Benetton posed two glamorous

models as nun and priest, kissing.

A mess, as I said. But some big

questions arose. The biggest, as

Mr. Girardin ventured by telephone

recently, was, “What is possible to

show in a photograph?” He added:

“What does society accept or refuse? ”

Which gets back to the question

about civic contracts.

DMITRY MANDEL

In works like “Self Portrait 1,’’ Ms. Ahmed Shikoh, a Pakistani-American, is taking her art beyond stereotypes of Muslim women.

MICHAEL

KIMMELMAN

ESSAY

Two Artists Are LiftingThe Veil on Islam

A View of Morality, Through the Camera Lens

OLIVIERO TOSCANI

‘‘Kissing Nun,’’ which Oliviero Toscani shot for a Benetton ad, is partof ‘‘Controversies,’’ anexhibition of provocativephotographs.

Asma Ahmed Shikoh, 31, left, and Negar Ahkami, 38.

diary. Daily she would make a paint-

ing or collage that incorporated a head

scarf, sometimes quite playfully, as in

a hijab with a built-in iPod.

Then, feeling too self-focused, she

put out word that she wanted to create

a collective work of head-scarf art.

Ms. Ahmed Shikoh was not sure

what to compose with the scarves

until one day in 2007 when she read

a chapter in the Koran called “The

Bee,” which reminded her that work-

er bees are female. “Making this

country my home was sort of like cre-

ating a dwelling with all these women

supporting me,” she said. Her instal-

lation, “The Beehive,’’ incorporates

the women’s scarves in a cardboard

honeycomb.

She also did a series of large paint-

ings of Muslim-American superhero-

ines based on friends: a doctor, a law-

yer and a writer. “These are the strong

Muslim New Yorkers who save the city

daily in comparison to what happened

on 9/11,” she said.

As in Pakistan, Ms. Ahmed Shikoh’s

work had once again become political,

albeit in a far more intimate way.

Years ago Susan Sontag recalled

her first sight, at 12, of the pictures

taken by British soldiers arriving

at the Bergen-Belsen concentration

camp. “When I looked at those

photographs, something broke,”

she wrote in “On Photography.”

“Some limit had been reached,

and not only that of horror. I felt

irrevocably grieved, wounded, but a

part of my feelings started to tighten;

something went dead; something is

still crying.”

To see something, in other

words, is to face the prospect

of becoming inured to it, even

if only slightly. Photographs

reveal horrors to which

they also accustom viewers.

That was the ultimate problem

with “Controversies.” The show

squandered our mercy for a rambling

survey.

The show violated the civil

contract. Even that image of the

starving Sudanese child becomes a

little easier to bear. Not much easier,

maybe, but just enough to recall

Cartier-Bresson’s word, barbaric.

It’s not just the perpetrators’

barbarism that photographs like

these expose, but our own.

A R T S & S T Y L E S

VIII MONDAY, JUNE 15, 2009

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