Category: Book Reviews

Review – A Secret Australia Revealed by the Wikileaks Exposés

The book A Secret Australia Revealed by the Wikileaks Exposés, edited by Felicity Ruby and Peter Cronau, was released at the time where Julian Assange, creator of Wikileaks, was awaiting his extradition trial to the United States for the publication of classified and sensitive information relating to the War on Terror.

Media coverage of the fact that Assange is facing 175 years in jail for 18 charges, including 17 under the US Espionage Act of 1917, is closely tied in with what both Ruby and Cronau argue is a “propaganda campaign to smear the name of Julian Assange…from the information he has made available to all, about how governments lie and betray their own citizens”. The book, they note, is in response to the impact that Wikileaks, and by default Assange, has had on Australia. These impacts range from a diverse lot of subject matter such as human rights, freedom of press, war crimes, governmental secrecy. These approaches are always underpinned by the idea of Wikileaks and Assange as publisher and journalist.

The book features contributions by well-known Australian writers, politicians, academics, and those in the legal profession. Most of the chapters are succinct, and for readers interested in an evidence-based approach to some of the statements made, accessible with endnote references to support key insights and arguments. 

The book’s  first chapter,‘Wikileaks and Human Rights’, is written by Jennifer Robinson, lawyer to Assange. Robinson writes about the fact that Australia only has an implied right to freedom of communication. She argues that the protection of whistle-blowers is paramount to ensuring a robust democracy – particularly where governments are active in incursions upon established human rights standards. The continual detention of Assange, noted for publishing material that linked the United States to War Crimes is a controversial figure, to some he is the champion of free speech, to others he is considered to be dangerous, even a “high tech terrorist”. The continual publication of confidential cables related to States and their internal affairs drew the wrath of such countries as the US, UK and Australia who argued that their release threatened national security, with some commentators decrying treason and Assange himself as enemy of the state.    

As each chapter is written by a different author, the book offers unique perspectives on Wikileaks and the impact the organisation has had on topics as diverse as Australia’s role in the Five Eyes Intelligence Oversight and Review Council, Australia’s foreign policy and of course, the concept of whistleblowing. Julian Burnside, barrister and human rights advocate, writes briefly about WikiLeaks as a case study into US implications of releasing classified and sensitive material – alleged war crimes footage – by noting the arrest and subsequent detainment of Chelsea Manning for “aiding the enemy”. Former senior Australian public servant and Adjunct Professor Paul Barratt’s more substantial chapter leans heavily towards setting out the Australian legal landscape in terms of national security classification of information and publishing of material. He contrasts this with the US governance of classified information, noting that “the state of the law and practice regarding the passing of classified information to journalists seems to be a mess in the US, UK and Australia”.

This chapter is followed by Associate Professor Benedetta Brevini’s chapter that further delves into both the US and UK’s responses to Wikileaks and the curious continued silence by the Australian government in commenting about the continued detainment of Assange, an Australian citizen. Silence from the Australian Federal Government, in effectively advocating for a detained Australian citizen, is a thread that runs throughout the book. Indeed, Dr Lissa Johnson outlines in her chapter ‘Torture Australian-style’ that despite the UN Rapporteur on Torture at the time, Nils Melzer, noting that Assange had been exposed to prolonged psychological torture, calls for his release or intervention into his detainment on medical grounds has so far not elicited a response.

The book ends most fittingly with a conversation between former politician Scott Ludlam and Julian Assange during the Festival of Democracy held in Sydney in 2015 and provides some interesting commentary on the subject of “despair and defiance” – an apt subject with Assange currently still in the UK awaiting extradition hearings that the United States is still pursuing, to which Assange and his supports are still putting up a strong fight against.

Whilst celebrating the range of voices writing on Wikileaks, some of the chapters are very brief, and could have been extended upon given the complexity of some of the subject matter. Yes, some are more strongly aligned as opinion pieces – without endnotes or references to designated them as such, however others could have been lengthened to provide more detail to satisfy readers curiosity. One such example is Andrew Fowler’s chapter on ‘All the Way with the USA’ which highlights the close relationship enjoyed by the US and Australia and highlights the Australian governments unwillingness to seek assurances from their close partner about treatment within the criminal justice system if Assange is extradited. 

 A Secret Australia Revealed by the Wikileaks Exposés provides interesting reading at a time when governments are quickly closing down conversations about transparency and accountability and provides a chilling insight into the power of States to protect their own machinations.

You can read the original version here.

Fascists Among Us: a review

Fascists Among Us, Online Hate and the Christchurch Massacre

Jeff Sparrow

Scribe Publications

The Christchurch terrorist attacks on March 14, 2019, was streamed live for 17 minutes. As each terrifying second and each blood-soaked minute ticked by, 51 people were killed and another 50 were injured in this heinous act. The perpetrator, Brenton Tarrant was sentenced only a few months ago and became the first person in New Zealand, where the attacks occurred, to be given a life sentence. 

In his book, Fascists Among Us: Online Hate and the Christchurch Massacre, Jeff Sparrow refuses to name the perpetrator and instead refers to him as Person X, partly as he notes “… because early readers reacted so strongly to the use of his name, suggesting … that it diminished his victims” and partly to denote that at any time another Person X might be out there, plotting and “… browsing a racist internet forum and counting ammunition.”  The notion that “the Christchurch gunman emerged from a fascist subculture in which he’d previously been a minor and anonymous figure” forms the basis of the book, a timely warning during what appears to be the rise of fascism around the world. 

The actions of Person X brought about an unprecedented effort from heads of State and online platform providers to adopt the Christchurch Call, a commitment to eliminate terrorist and violent extremist content online. However, this has only been a recent initiative and the ease with which sharing content and connecting with individuals and groups who seek to create havoc within democratic societies, something Sparrow calls “fascist terrorism,” has increased dramatically and often without any restriction by using the internet to facilitate hate.

Sparrow takes care in setting out the turgid history of fascism so as to situate it within a contemporary context, moving from World War II to the terror attacks of 9/11 and Trump’s populism movement which has, since the time of Trump’s presidency, veered alarmingly towards rhetoric long associated with far-right movements. The chapter on Trump’s America, “Hail Trump: Fascist Memes” is taken from fascist leader Richard Spencer’s alt-right gathering of the National Policy Institute where Spencer shouted “Hail Trump! Hail our people! Hail victory!” Sparrow writes on the normalisation of fascist views across the internet, not just within right-wing sites such as Stormfront but more increasingly in Youtube, Facebook and Reddit.

Sparrow’s coverage of fascism invariably leads to an Australian connection and joins the dots on Person X’s involvement with content posted by noted Australian fascist groups United Patriot Front and True Blue Crew on social media platforms. Sparrow notes the popularity of alt-right podcasters called the “Dingoes” whom Tarrant had borrowed his avatar from and who had guests such as MP George Christensen and former Labor leader Mark Latham. Noted right-wing extremist Blair Cottrell, who had once called for the image of Hitler to be installed in classrooms and who has spent stints in-and-out of prison also features in the chapter that is comprehensive in providing insight into the alt-right in Australia. 

A common thread throughout the book is the memeification of hate, whether it be advocating violence, posting about “the mosque prank” or the creation of a first-person shooter game that allows for people to play as Person X, Sparrow’s quest to understand it so as to denounce, and ultimately fight against such forces makes for a gripping read. This ties in well with Sparrow’s conclusion simply titled “Conclusion; Hope Against Hate” where he notes:

“The more we offer an alternative to environmental destruction – and to the society that unleashes such destruction – the more squalid and miserable fascism seems.”

As the rise of far-right populism occurs throughout the world and the influence of far-right and fascist movements grows over online platforms, the urgency with which we need to be able to identify and mitigate harmful actions is apparently constantly increasing. Fascists Among Us: Online Hate and the Christchurch Massacre is valuable reading for those interested in the deep reach of the far-right and fascist movement – and how we might stop it.

Originally published here

Lawless: a review

BY SAMAYA BOROM

Image by David Mark from Pixabay

Lawless

Kimberley Motley

Allen & Unwin

Kimberley Motley’s book, Lawless, opened onto a tense courtroom scene, grabbing the reader’s attention from the first page to the last. Motley, as a criminal defence attorney, is trying to juggle many things. There is the drug charge of a young British man, who is accused of selling drugs in Ibiza and potentially facing nine years in jail, whom Motley is trying to exonerate, while simultaneously trying to reassure Laila, a victim of human trafficking in Afghanistan, to get in a car that will ultimately drive her to safety. It set the pace for the book, shifting from cities and continents with the thread of criminal justice allowing for Motley to showcase and build upon her legal skills in a way that has lasting impact.

Lawless is a unique book, offering insights into a world that is often hidden to those outside of the criminal justice system. Motley details her transition from being a working mother with three children in Milwaukee, USA,  working within the public defender space (somehow juggling this as well as working as an academic at the local community college), to the Justice Sector Support Program (JSSP) in Afghanistan. JSSP was a program set up by the US government to support the government of Afghanistan in its development to managing its own criminal justice system – a task not without serious challenges. Motley is brought on board to assist in “capacity building” though quickly identifies that she’d like to be more actively involved in working with Afghans around their legal system rather than just ticking a box around training.

Having to learn to work within the Afghan legal system was a challenge, especially due to differences with the US legal system, such as different conceptions of the burden of proof and access to legal representation. Motley recalls an individual who was charged with terrorism offences in the National Security Court and had been beaten into confessing the crime, despite not having due process or understanding the charges put to them. 

The ability of the local people to have legal representation was something Motley felt compelled to assist with, as she bluntly wrote:

“I’m not a traditional human rights lawyer, I’m a litigator.”

Stressing the fact that as a litigator in Afghanistan her primary audience is the Afghan court and judges, not human rights experts or speaking to a human rights panel or the international media.

In making this distinction Motley writes about taking on the case of a sixteen-year-old girl who had been raped and sentenced to twelve years imprisonment for “adultery by force.” Afghan law classed the case as a moral crime and Motley took it on as a defence attorney allowing her to argue before the Supreme Court to reduce her sentence then seek a presidential pardon.

The book is a fascinating read for a couple of standout reasons. Firstly, the way in which Motley writes is extremely personable, her empathy towards individuals caught up in the criminal justice system – wherever they may be – as well as her unrelenting fight for justice is admirable.

Motley speaks frankly and authentically about her life, including to struggle to pay the bills in her hometown of Milwaukee, and her transition from a public defender in the US to becoming the first foreign lawyer to practise in the Afghan court system. 

Motley’s experience in both the US and Afghan system is peppered throughout the book and makes for an interesting comparison in understanding criminal justice responses to crime and concepts of criminality.

Secondly, in fighting to represent clients in places in which human rights are often not considered, Motley’s insights into Afghan society and the conception of justice can be challenging. She presided over a jirga (the village justice system) as a judge on a case about a six-year-old girl who was sold to clear a debt, while facing so many other challenges from a kidnapping case to literally trying to stay alive during an attack on her hotel. Motley through all this still had family issues to contend with, including the tragic shooting of her husband in Milwaukee.

The unflinching way in which Motley fights to ensure access to justice for her clients, wherever they might be is at the core of her story, one that in her words is all about “lifting and empowering people” and “fighting intelligently, strategically and, most importantly, effectively.”

Originally published here http://rightnow.org.au/review-3/lawless-a-review/

On Violence: a review

Originally published here

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Image by Devanath from Pixabay
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Melbourne University Publishing

On Violence by Natasha Stott Despoja

The On Series by Melbourne University Publishing are touted as “little books on big ideas” and feature well known writers and identities covering topics such as Germaine Greer writing about rape, Leigh Sales on doubt and Stan Grant on identity. Natasha Stott Despoja’s contribution to the series, On Violence, focuses on violence against women as a national emergency, requiring community and political action to prevent it.

With extreme levels of violence, sometimes resulting in death, against women in Australian society, Despoja argues that there is a need, “…to change the story that ends in violence against women, we must begin with gender equality and respect for all women”.

Working through alarming statistics where on average women die weekly at the hands of someone they know, to noting that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander women are subject to violence more than thirty-times the rate for non-Indigenous women Despoja is unapologetic in calling for changes in how society has, for the most part, turned a blind eye to these issues.

That’s not to say that there are not organisations or individuals currently working to create better frameworks with which to deal with, and hopefully stem, this national emergency. Despoja refers to Rosie Batty’s tireless campaigning for recognition of family violence and changing the ways in which it is dealt with as part of policy reform. The book talks about the issue of promoting gendered behaviours, the lack of diversity in being able to illustrate to children their worth as members of humanity, rather than an identity structured around gender and the importance in actively changing the narrative around violence through primary prevention strategies.

Written more as a conversation between the author and the reader than a formal essay On Violence is easily accessible which is important when considering the topic of discussion and the barriers that are often placed around them that need to be broken down. In the chapter “Respect”, for example, Despoja points towards the need to ensure education around respectful relationships occur at an early age so that younger generations have a sense of what is and isn’t acceptable in a relationship.

Education around respectful relationships is one such way to challenge the status quo on approaching and quashing violence, but it requires the full support of government to ensure wide and even reach. Despoja conversely notes that such discussions precipitated Prime Minister Scott Morrison as being very vocal about enrolling his own children in a school that didn’t impose “the values of others” on his children.

On Violence makes it clear that there is much work to do in this space, from victim blaming to reluctance to educate Australia’s youth about meaningful and respectful relationships to acknowledgment of violence against women as being at epidemic proportions and having consistent constructive frameworks in place to deal with it. It also makes it clear that we, as individual members of society, can be proactive in creating an Australia where all women are respected and not subject to violence, where our grandmothers and mothers, our sisters, our cousins, our friends and ourselves are as safe in our private lives as we should expect to be in our public lives. It’s a small book with an incredibly important message, one that everyone should hear.

Stories from the Defenders: a review of Seeking Justice in Cambodia

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Image by Sharon Ang from Pixabay

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Seeking Justice in Cambodia: Human Rights Defenders Speak Out

Sue Coffey

Melbourne University Publishing

Cambodia is a country that has experienced immense suffering due to the Khmer Rouge genocide under the leadership of Pol Pot in the late 1970s, Vietnamese invasion and ongoing socio-political and economic suppression. Modern Cambodia continues to struggle with the effects of autocratic rule and justice and human rights are continually challenged.

It is with this backdrop that Sue Coffey’s book Seeking Justice in Cambodia, Human Rights Defenders Speak Out sought out individuals within civil society organisations who actively fight for human rights and democracy in Cambodia. Coffey was a communications advisor attached to the NGO Forum on Cambodia during 2012-2013 and witnessed first-hand the impact that governmental corruption and lack of transparency in decision making can do to vulnerable communities.

Despite having human rights organisations in Cambodia since the early 1990s, the volatile political environment and lack of awareness amongst domestic and international scholars of human rights has meant that oppositional voices to the ruling government and its policies are hidden, or at the very least suppressed for fear of retribution.

Coffey has been able to document the stories of just some of these courageous individuals, firstly in order to preserve the authenticity of their experiences and secondly, to ensure wider dissemination of these stories as they make up the fabric of Cambodia’s human rights and democracy struggle. Featuring the stories of fifteen individuals, taken at various times, from founders of human rights leagues to president of a national party that recently ended up being arrested for treason to a land activist imprisoned for speaking out about corruption in land development between private developers and the ruling government, the book provides readers with a glimpse into the difficulties, and achievements of human rights defenders in a tightly controlled environment.

Some of the interviewees are in exile, such as Thun Saray the founder and President of the Cambodian Human Rights and Development Association who speaks frankly about the dangers of setting up such an organisation that promoted human rights and democracy. Other interviewees point to deep issues between religion, government and society with Coffey including the Venerable Loun Sovath, a Buddhist monk who has been banned by the Cambodian Buddhist hierarchy from seeking refuge in temples due to his vocal commitment to human rights and his questioning of forced evictions of people from areas of commercial interest as a person whose story needs to be shared.

Seeking Justice in Cambodia, Human Rights Defenders Speak Out is a collection of personal stories that provide real insight into the complexities of the human rights landscape in Cambodia, and stories which deserve to be disseminated and read widely. Coffey’s desire to memorialise the efforts of these individuals can only provide inspiration for others in following their path to being human rights defenders.

Originally published at Right Now.

Radical Heart, the inside story of the Uluru Statement of the Heart

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Image by faszynelka from Pixabay

Radical Heart

Shireen Morris

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Melbourne University Publishing

Dr Shireen Morris is a constitutional lawyer and postdoctoral fellow at the University of Melbourne where she focuses on indigenous constitutional recognition. Hailing from Fijian-Indian immigrant parents who made their home in Melbourne, Morris worked for seven years on the Uluru Statement from the Heart, a statement that is controversial in terms of recognition of First Peoples with the Australian Constitution. Her book, Radical Heart is an exploration of her involvement in the campaign for constitutional recognition.

The Uluru Statement from the Heart came from a constitutional convention supported by the Referendum Council, a bipartisan council jointly appointed by then prime minister Malcolm Turnbull and opposition leader Bill Shorten. Though there was a focus on the calls to alter the Constitution in recognition of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people the statement also called for reform around legislative change with the creation of a Makarrata Commission which would supervise agreements between the government and indigenous groups as well as the promotion of truth-telling in regard to indigenous culture, law, customs and, of course, the effects of colonialism.

Makarrata is a Yolngu word meaning “coming together after a struggle”, the name is suitable considering the injustices of the past.

Early on in Radical Heart, Morris announces that the lack of First People’s inclusion and participation in politics and the lack of Constitutional recognition is due in equal parts to politics as well as a “lack of morally courageous leadership”. Morris argues for the need for consistent and strong advocacy for indigenous recognition in the Australian Constitution, which would also require the formation of a constitutionally guaranteed indigenous advisory body, the Makarrata Commission. Makarrata is a Yolngu word meaning “coming together after a struggle”, the name is suitable considering the injustices of the past. Moving through the book it is not hard to see why Morris positions this statement front and centre given the complexities of the topic, and the voices involved – seemingly at times competing with each other.

Radical Heart is an important contribution to understanding the limits of constitutional reform in Australia as well as providing clear insights into exactly why this is required.

Morris’ strength lies in her ability to take readers on an intimate journey into the campaign around the Uluru Statement from the Heart, from personal stories about working with Noel Pearson, member of the Expert Panel on Constitutional Recognition of Indigenous Australians in 2011, who would admonish her work in front of policymakers in a bid to make her consider it more fully; to the delicate and often political tête-à-tête with constitutional defenders, left- and right-leaning politicians and key indigenous experts such as Marcia Langton.

Deeply telling, the lead up to the final chapter in which the Uluru Statement from the Heart is formally rejected sets out the ways in which government opposition and public uncertainty impacted upon recognition of not only the importance of the Statement but also its aims and future impacts on Australian legal, socio-cultural, political and educational frameworks. Radical Heart is an important contribution to understanding the limits of constitutional reform in Australia as well as providing clear insights into exactly why this is required.

Morris succinctly points out six key lies that need to be corrected when analysing governmental rejection of the Statement as being “neither desirable nor capable of winning acceptance at referendum” – collectively they showcase the fundamental misunderstanding of the role that indigenous Australians have within contemporary Australian society. They are at the heart of Australia and without giving the First Peoples a voice firmly enshrined in the Constitution, all Australians cannot move forward as a nation.

The Power of Human Connection: a review of The Fox Hunt

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The Fox Hunt: Four strangers, thirteen days, and one man’s amazing journey to safety

Mohammed Al Samawi

Scribe Publications

Mohammed Al Samawi’s The Fox Hunt starts dramatically on March 22, 2015 in Aden, Yemen. Al Samawi is stuck in the bathroom in his new apartment where he’d fled to escape the constant threats on his life during what turned out to be the beginning of the Yemeni Civil War which still rages unabated. With mixed factions vying for control of the entire country, from President Hadi loyalists and his supporters to Houthi rebels and Al Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP) on the other side.  Indeed, the AQAP checkpoint is seen through the small gap in his curtains and social media checks, albeit timed to when the area has working electricity, allows Al Samawi to keep check of the escalating dangerous situation.

As a vocal Yemini peace activist, Al Samawi was keenly aware of the danger in which he found himself in, indeed, this is explored in memoir style as he recounts how he overcame childhood loneliness arising from disability, heard in taunts such as “Mohammed the maimed” or his own creation of Ana hemar “I am a donkey,” to wanting to explore and learn about other cultures and religions in a more meaningful way. This, we find, is quite difficult in Yemen where there are strict parameters around religion in the predominately Muslim country.

In writing The Fox Hunt Al Samawi offers us a glimpse into Yemen’s social and religious history and the complex ways in which different countries and factions have had their hand in creating and maintaining a “Yemini” identity.

Coming from an influential family who are said to be able to trace their lineage back to the Prophet Mohammad, Al Samawi writes about the influence of Saudi Arabia on the educational curriculum and religious ideology. He writes, too, of primary school lessons denouncing Israel and the Jewish faith and the shooting of Palestinian child Muhammad al-Durrah during the second intifada that impressed upon other Yemini children the vulnerability of youth and, with the clarity that only retrospective consideration offers, the hatred that comes with indoctrination against everyone classed as ‘other’.

The author’s questioning of the status quo leads to a fascinating and intensely personal journey in which he starts to question everything that he has been taught, from anti-semitic rhetoric to how to deal with personal relationships – and forgoing potential love for an arranged marriage – to the big-ticket item of wanting to explore the various interfaith dialogues that he started to come across in his quest to educate himself about religions other than his own. It’s this exploration that makes Al Samawi so dangerous to the newly emerging Yemen backed by religious hardliners and extremists.

Al Samawi’s The Fox Hunt’s personable writing style easily draws the reader in to not only the authors personal life, but the lives of others who feature throughout the book. As friends and acquaintances pull together to try to save the life of one person who is trying to bridge a gap in progressing interfaith dialogue – we become keenly aware too of the impact one person can have and the change that one person can bring.

Originally published at Right Now.

Growing Up Aboriginal in Australia: a review

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Photo by Steve Johnson from Pexels

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Growing Up Aboriginal in Australia

Edited by Anita Heiss

Black Inc.

Dr Anita Heiss, Wiradjuri woman and prolific writer with the well-known 2012 memoir Am I Black Enough For You in her back catalogue, has published the anthology Growing up Aboriginal in Australia, a collection of short stories from a diverse number of indigenous Australians that speak from the heart and provide deeply personal insights into what it means to be an Aboriginal Australian.

A nationwide call out for nonfiction submissions saw more than 120 accounts about growing up over country from Noongar in Western Australia to Gumbaynggirr in New South Wales to Kuku Yalanji in the rainforest areas of Far North Queensland and all places in-between. The submissions chosen for the book are therefore just a part of the personal experience that individuals wanted to share with a wider audience, a part carefully curated to illustrate the breadth of experiences so that readers may ponder on the content of stories not yet shared into the public realm, but which are very much a part of the shared experience of Indigenous Australians.

While each story is as individual as the person sharing it, there are experiences that are shared amongst the writers that deeply impact upon themselves, their families and their own sense of growing up and identifying as an Aboriginal Australian.

The Stolen Generation, the forced removal of children from their parents from 1869 onwards, has had catastrophic effects with the suffering passed down to each generation ­– if they’ve been able to reconnect.

Experiencing overt and subtle racism and a feeling of trying to find self between “two worlds resting in on each other,” as eloquently described by Evelyn Araluen in the piece Finding ways home is also a shared experience amongst contributors.

Araluen, at twenty-four, reflects upon how her identity changed in the shift from primary school to teenage hood and high school and how she was called names such as “shit-skin” and “Abo” at the same time she was she learning to celebrate her ancestral heritage.  Alice Eather’s Yúya Karrabúrra which starts with an evocative poem using some Ndjébbana language also speaks of walking between two worlds, mentioning too the prevalence suicide has on communities and young indigenous people. Alice’s contribution is particularly poignant as, at the age of twenty-eight, she took her own life.

The pieces vary in length, ranging from two pages such as Taryn Little’s Just a young girlwhere she writes of her memory of smashing cherries, at twelve-years old, into beloved cousins at a family friend’s farm, to the longer A story from my life by William Russell on the complexity of identity. Each contribution though has a strong connection with being an Aboriginal Australian, on country, about country, talking about awareness of ancestral heritage or the passing down of memories and identity that makes each writer unique but part of the tens of thousands of years of history that follows them on their journey in contemporary Australia.

Growing up Aboriginal in Australia is an important anthology that serves as a collection of public history, the personal tales providing insight into the everyday experiences that have shaped and continue to shape Aboriginal Australians – in many different and diverse ways.

Originally published at Right Now

Counterfeiting and Illicit Trade Book Review

Peggy E Chaudhry (ed), Edward Elgar Publishing, 2017 hb

The increased ease with which international trade and commerce occurs across the globe brings with it not only the ability to reach new audiences and markets for goods and services but also the ever-present threat of counterfeiting and illicit trade.

This is a comprehensive and well researched handbook that calls upon experts from industry, law enforcement, the legal community and the private sector (to name a few) to provide working insight into diverse topics covering such things as money laundering and terrorist financing, music piracy and pharmaceuticals.

Divided into five sections, the first part deals with trends and global enforcement issues in relation to illicit trade. Part II details the United States, Mexico and China’s initiatives in stemming illicit trade, which makes for an interesting comparative study highlighting the complexities of regulation and enforcement. The focus shifts in Part III to counterfeit pharmaceuticals, luxury goods and the tobacco sector while Part IV deals exclusively with the internet, including an extensive chapter on social media and intellectual property rights that came out of the 2015 United Kingdom’s Intellectual Property Office research into social media platforms and IP infringement. Case studies and industry examples are peppered throughout the handbook, which serves to highlight the enormity and complexity of the issue of curtailing illicit practices on a global level.

The final part of the handbook provides an overview of managerial and consumer perceptions around the various anti-counterfeiting tactics deployed in the international business space and offers real insight into the impacts on consumers of illicit trading. These are supplemented by recommendations that could offer tangible benefits to consumers and business and deal crippling blows to the counterfeiting and illicit trade industry.

This book is essential reading for those interested in the impact of counterfeiting and illicit trade on international business.

Originally published in Law Institute of Victoria Journal ‘in_print’, 2nd July 2008.

Representations of the African-Australian Diaspora in Contemporary Australia

Ways of Being Here
Rafeif Ismail, Yirga Gelaw Woldeyes, Tinashe Jakwa and Yuot Alaak
Margaret River Press

WaysOfBeingHereCoverWays of Being Here is a collection of stories by African-Australian writers showcasing a diaspora that receives little attention in contemporary Australian writing. The four writers, Rafeif Ismail, Yirga Gelaw Woldeyes, Tinashe Jakwa, and Yuot Alaak, trace their lineage to Sudan, Ethiopia, Zimbabwe, and South Sudan, respectively, and it is their strong connection to their homelands, culture and memories that drive their own individual stories.

Easy to read, the novellas provide readers with unique voices and experiences usually hidden in the Australian literary landscape. The stories themselves were exposed through the Ways of Being Here flash fiction competition set up by the Centre for Stories in Western Australia, which seeks to share the work of diverse storytellers, poets, and other creative people in order to strengthen the connections within the community.

Inclusivity within communities is definitely a theme running through all the stories, each highlighting the issue of acceptance in their own poignant way.

In Rafeif Ismail’s piece, ‘Light at the End’, she notes “You were born to deserts and rushing rivers. Summer is in your soul, in your bones, buried deep beneath inches of ice and cement. From the moment you arrive, you’ve been too much and not enough.” Tinashe Jakwa, in ‘No Child of One’s Own’, takes the reader on a journey that further considers the impact of childhood memories, folk tales, and history, stating “As it is, some bridges conspire with the waters beneath them.”

In Yirga Gelaw Woldeyes, ‘When the Sky Looks like a Donkey’, it is shown how cultural and linguistic explanations can conflict with the social expectations placed on new Australians. Through the eyes of Ermi, a security guard in training who is trying to navigate workplace conversations and expectations, the reader sees how Ermi’s formal migrant English challenges the often lazy Australian drawl.

Yuot Alaak’s story ‘The Lost Girl of Pajomba’, about the terrifying separation of mother and child during war, highlights the importance of humanitarian and human rights effort with the powerful statement “I can only wish Mum and Dad were alive to witness the kindness of the human spirit. That my brothers survived to experience the innocence of childhood.” Whilst the shortest of the four stories at only eight pages, Alaak’s strong and sharp prose captures the reader immediately and is a fitting finale to the collection of stories that makes up Ways of Being Here.

Originally published at RightNow here