|
‘Do you want liver failure with
that?’
Super Size Me: a film of epic portions
By Lachlan Malloch
June 2 — It’s hardly novel to say that McDonald’s
food lacks nutrition and eating it can be bad for your health. But if
you employed a combination of investigative journalism and brutally
brave “method” acting, as American film maker Morgan Spurlock
did, you’d start to get a glimpse of the gargantuan public health
juggernaut that is McDonald’s and the fast food industry.
Spurlock spent 30 days eating nothing but McDonald’s while a team
of doctors monitored the ensuing changes in his physical and mental
health. His simple rules were: if it’s not on the menu, he couldn’t
have it (including water); he could only “super size” a meal
if staff offered it to him; and he had to eat every item on the menu
at least once.
The result is Super Size Me, which also examines the wider role
of McDonald’s in American society, especially its contribution
to a recent, unprecedented epidemic of obesity and malnutrition.
Super Size Me undoubtedly benefits from the trail blazed before
it by Bowling for Columbine, but this is not Mike Moore at work.
Spurlock only partially delivers on the landmark potential of such an
unusual documentary. It’s marred by poor production values and
its twin aims sit together awkwardly. It almost feels like we’re
watching two different documentaries at the same time: one is an indictment
of a poisonous industry; and the other resembles a slow-moving schoolboy
prank.
Spurlock started the trial as a healthy and fit young man. His physical
and mental deterioration over the course of a mere 30 days is disturbing
and occurs in ways that none of the doctors predicted. Watch out in
particular for one doctor’s alarm on day 23 – compelling stuff.
The overriding message of Super Size Me is that corporations
such as McDonald’s must take responsibility for their social impact.
Why then does Spurlock contradict this message by book-ending the film
with stereotypical shots that ridicule fat Americans and a weak concluding
polemic? These only serve to feed liberal myths of individual choice
under capitalism, which is not helpful.
But to his credit Spurlock makes some attempt at investigating America’s
public health crisis. Two key themes that he touches on are the corporate
power of McDonald’s and their unique targeting of children. American
children are bombarded by 10,000 food advertisements a year, 95 percent
of which are for nutritional garbage. McDonald’s global direct
media advertising budget is $1.4 billion per year.
Additionally, the abrogation of state responsibility in many American
towns means that for parents with young children, the ubiquitous enclosed
McDonald’s playgrounds are often the only safe place to go.
Super Size Me is at its most powerful when it confronts McDonald’s
as a fast food version of the tobacco companies — equally as insidious,
intentionally ensnaring children into a lifetime of addiction and loyalty
to its poisonous product.
But there are powerful factors missing from Spurlock’s film, whose
absence left me yearning for more. Super Size Me offers no insight
into McDonald’s massive land holdings in Latin America, where environmentally
destructive beef cattle ranching is carried out, the infamous McLibel
legal action, and the army of sweatshop teenage labor that McDonald’s
exploits around the world.
Source: Green Left Weekly
Debate grows in Japan over an empress
at the throne
By Suvendrini Kakuchi
Tokyo, Japan, May 31 (IPS)— Media reports suggesting that
Japan’s Crown Princess Masako is suffering from severe depression
— linked to heavy pressure on her to produce a son — has revived
a debate over the idea of allowing an empress to reign over the 2,000-year-old
Chrysanthemum Throne.
Masako and her husband, Crown Prince Naruhito, have a two-year-old daughter,
Aiko.
Japan’s Constitution permits only sons to inherit the throne of
the world’s oldest unbroken hereditary monarchy. The emperor is
considered a symbol of Japanese culture and a Shinto deity, a religion
that has no female priests.
But public sentiment appears to be shifting away from tradition. Surveys
indicate that more than 70 percent of the public say they would be happy
if Masako’s daughter takes over the monarchy as she is the first
and, currently, the only child of the crown prince.
“The public would welcome the reign of an empress. But in reality,
given the objection of powerful conservatives to accepting women into
important positions, a change is going to be difficult,” explains
Yuko Kawanishi, who teaches sociology at Tokyo Gakugei University.
“The Crown Prince, 44, and the Princess, 40, have no son, but a
daughter. Naturally, the possibility of their child becoming Empress
is being discussed among politicians and Constitutional law specialists,”
the Yomiuri Shimbun, Japan’s largest daily, said recently.
While historical documents show that empresses did rule several centuries
ago, Japan’s Meiji Constitution speaks of the country being ruled
by a line of emperors “unbroken for ages eternal.” Article
Three of the current constitution, which replaced the Meiji charter,
states that only males can take over the Chrysanthemum Throne.
Emperor Hirohito ruled Japan before and during World War II as a living
god, commanding a fiercely loyal military and public till Japan’s
defeat in 1945.
Against this backdrop, changing this law to allow an empress to reign
— and given the alteration of notions of gender equality this would
bring — is deeply disturbing for Japan’s influential rightists.
The conservative Shukan Bunshun, a leading weekly news magazine, quoted
imperial household watchers as saying a law to usher in female accession
to the throne would be too complicated and pose a risk to the continuation
of the monarchy.
“When an empress has to marry, the choice of a husband becomes
too delicate a problem. As a male, his influence on the imperial line
can be too powerful and thus pose a challenge to the hereditary importance
of the lineage,” the magazine quotes an unnamed source as saying.
The article says this is an important consideration in the debate on
changing the current law.
But this contrasts with support for an empress in Japan’s increasingly
westernized society, one where more women are now delaying marriage
and choosing to not have children.
Aiko was born to Masako Owada, a former career diplomat, after more
than eight years of married life and some infertility treatment.
Pressure to produce a son intensified this past year as Princess Masako
approached her fortieth birthday, leading to her breakdown, according
to news reports.
She is now reported to be “resting,” according to the Imperial
Agency. The media have published photos of a villa in Karuizawa, a mountain
resort, where she is living in seclusion with her mother and daughter.
The problem surfaced earlier in May, when her husband crossed the lines
of traditional restraint in Japan to make the shocking revelation during
a press conference that his wife is “exhausted by trying to adapt
to life in the imperial family since their marriage.”
Crown Prince Naruhito spoke — media reports called it a “public
outburst” — on the eve of his departure, alone, to Europe
where he attended the wedding of the crown princes of Denmark and Spain.
He also accused the Imperial Agency of “denying Masako’s career
and her character.”
The remarks caused a stir in Japan, forcing the stubborn and powerful
Imperial Agency to quickly announce it would “take more care to
do its best for the Princess.”
But on May 28 the agency announced, in yet another sign of its powerful
control over the imperial family, that it has not scheduled a press
conference for the prince, who returned from Europe on May 28.
Still, Prince Naruhito’s rare expression of displeasure has touched
off a storm of new media reports that has continued for weeks. News
magazines have been portraying the lives of the Japanese Imperial Family
as being extremely lonely and having very little social interaction
with friends.
“The royal family is nurtured by the Imperial Agency to be a symbol
of Japan’s past. This is why female members of the Japanese monarchy
must always be attentive to their husbands and walk behind them,”
says Kawanishi.
These customs dictate the life of Masako, who spent her childhood abroad
and is a Harvard University graduate who speaks six languages.
For example, while Prince Naruhito said his wife considered her role
as that of being a diplomat for the monarchy, in reality the Imperial
Agency curtailed her dreams by putting priority on producing an heir
— and barring her from traveling overseas for some time.
“If Masako thought her role was to be diplomat, then that is a
mistake. As crown princess, her duty is family” was another comment
in the Shukan Bunshu.
Gregory Clark, head of Tama University, says the latest reports on Princess
Masako reflect a “serious development in Japanese society.”
“The situation represents a clash between the younger crown prince
and the conservative Imperial Agency. Both the crown prince and his
wife, Masako, would like to see their daughter become empress and with
the public behind them, the conservatives could be beaten,” he
points out.
Willing hearts do battle with empty
pockets in Swaziland
By James Hall
Mbabane, Swaziland, May 30 (IPS)— In a country where
funds for social programs are often lacking, volunteers find themselves
being called on to fill the gap. Of late, however, the demands placed
on these individuals have become increasingly burdensome.
Good intentions are running up against the realization that there
is too much to be done, and too little remuneration for people whose
volunteer work has become less a part-time occupation than a full-time
— albeit nonpaying — career.
“From homecare givers to teachers and even engineers, we have
volunteers doing work that is so involved it really constitutes employment.
Some type of payment is due,” says Joyce Khumalo, a manager with
a group of seamstresses.
With unemployment at high levels, there isn’t a shortage of people
to take on volunteer tasks at clinics, construction projects in rural
communities, and agricultural programs.
“But sooner or later, a man will have to feed his family. And
if a man who is a breadwinner died of AIDS, his wife who is a volunteer
must give that up to find paying work,” adds Khumalo.
These concerns are echoed by Derek Von Wissell, Director of the National
Emergency Response Committee on HIV/AIDS (NERCHA) — a body set
up by the government to coordinate Swaziland’s response to the
AIDS pandemic. The country currently has the world’s highest
HIV prevalence, according to the Joint United Nations Program on HIV/AIDS
(UNAIDS) — a rate approaching 40 percent.
“We need to find ways to give some small stipend to volunteers.
So many of the AIDS programs are dependent on volunteers, such as
home-based care,” observes Von Wissell.
NERCHA supports community initiatives to address AIDS, in the belief
that these are more effective than projects imposed by central government
or a foreign donor. While this approach may be sound, the programs
rely greatly on volunteers for their success.
The Inhlanyelo Project is a case in point. Over 300 chiefs have set
aside fields for cultivation by the people of their area, with harvests
benefiting orphans who have lost their parents to AIDS. NERCHA and
the Ministry of Agriculture provide seeds, tractors and other implements,
but labor is entirely voluntary.
Inhlanyelo is rooted in Swazi culture — the notion that members
of a community who are unable to support themselves can depend on
their traditional leader for assistance.
“There is a Swazi tradition called ‘kuhlehla,’ where
the people of a chiefdom come to weed the chief’s field, [and]
the chief takes care of the orphans at his place. [But] today, there
are too many orphans,” says Chief Malunge, who presides over
the rural Nyangeni area northeast of the capital, Mbabane.
In the past, Swazi labor unions have condemned this practice, calling
it slave labor. But, traditionalists defend the custom.
There are also concerns that volunteers, as well-intentioned as they
may be, simply don’t have the skills to help address some of
the problems created by AIDS. This is particularly true of home-based
care — long a key area for volunteerism.
Already, the nursing profession is wary of what they consider amateur
providers of healthcare who are improperly trained and equipped.
“Anti-retroviral drugs for HIV patients must be administered
exactly, or they will lose their effectiveness. Do volunteers know
how to protect themselves against infection from spilt blood? Will
they stick to a job when it becomes disagreeable the way a professional
will?” asks Agnes Kunene, a nurse in the central town of Manzini.
However, the nursing profession is itself coming under pressure.
“Nurse’s assistants, the orderlies, are not paid overtime,
so they knock off work before evening. There is no one to help nurses
turn patients, or do other physical tasks at night,” says Thabsile
Dlamini, Secretary General of the Swaziland Nursing Association.
Nurses have already engaged in a three-week national strike this year,
they have pledged to down tools again if orderlies are not adequately
paid.
In the face of these dilemmas, organizations such as Swazis for Positive
Living are coming up with creative solutions to the problem of remuneration
for volunteers. The group was founded by five women who discovered
they were HIV-positive — and without any place to go for support.
“As we strove to get AIDS information, we became activists, first
for ourselves and then for all others who are affected by HIV. We
were given money by UNICEF [UN Children’s Fund] to start a project
we wanted to do for AIDS orphans,” says Sempiwe Hlope, one of
the group’s founders.
The 350 women and 50 men who now comprise the Swazis for Positive
Living membership cultivate fields in a venture modeled after cooperatives.
“We sell all the vegetables we harvest, and half the proceeds
go to the orphans — 25 percent of the profits we put back into
our business. The final quarter of profits we split among the members,”
adds Hlope.
Swazis for Positive Living so impressed one chief that he broke with
custom to give the founders some land to help the burgeoning number
of AIDS orphans in his district. Since time immemorial, only men have
been given land by chiefs in Swaziland.
Protesters try to halt art show over
owner’s Nazi link
By Ruth Elkins
Berlin, Germany, May 30— One of the key moral dilemmas
left over from the Third Reich has been flushed to the surface by
a fierce row over a forthcoming exhibition in Berlin of a huge contemporary
art collection owned by the grandson of a convicted Nazi war criminal.
The collector in question is Friedrich Christian Flick — or the
multimillionaire Mercedes-heir “Mick” as he’s known
in society circles from Chelsea to Gstaad.
At the center of the dispute are plans to put on show some 2,500 works
of modern art, ranging from Duchamp, Mondrian and Giacometti to more
contemporary names such as Bruce Naumann, Martin Kippenberger and
Paul McCarthy. Never before shown in its entirety, the collection
of painting, sculpture, installations, and photography is being billed
as “one of the most exciting collections of contemporary art
in the world.”
Flick must be bracing himself for controversy every time he tries
to show the works in public. Munich and Dresden have already turned
down plans for an exhibition after widespread protests. A similar
outcry led to its rejection in Zurich -- along with a museum he proposed
building to house the works designed by architect Rem Koolhaas.
The reason is that his grandfather, Friedrich Flick, made his fortune
as one of the Nazi regime’s largest arms manufacturers and was
jailed at Nuremberg for, among other offenses, using some 40,000 German
and East European slave laborers in his factories.
Accusations have been flying back and forth all month. Salomon Korn,
of Germany’s Central Council of Jews, said: “This amounts
to a moral whitewashing of blood money.”
He said it would be like showing the “Goering Collection:”
the head of Hitler’s Luftwaffe, Hermann Goering, raided galleries
and private collections across Europe. Looted treasures are still
being returned to their rightful owners.
Another leading member of the council, Michael Fürst, said that
if the exhibition, at Berlin’s Hamburger Bahnhof Museum for Contemporary
Art, went ahead, it would be an “insufferable provocation to
all those who suffered hunger, humiliation, and torture in his grandfather’s
business.” The Flick Industrial empire, with stakes in Daimler-Benz
among other businesses from chemicals and construction to insurance,
lost much of its assets after the war, but was rebuilt by the family.
For his part, 59-year-old Mick Flick — whose company refused
to pay into a German government compensation fund for families of
forced laborers — claims his wealth is separate from that amassed
by his grandfather. But, he said, “I have never shied away from
what my grandfather did and never sought to relativize his acts.”
It is not the first time that the post-war Flick generation has struggled
for public acceptance. In 1995 his brother Gert Rudolf “Muck”
Flick’s attempts to set up a history chair at Oxford were rejected
after a massive outcry by academics, who said the Flick name would
tarnish the university’s reputation.
Nonetheless, the Berlin exhibition looks likely to go ahead. Mick
Flick is to pump some $9 million into renovating part of the museum,
and the exhibition has the support of Gerhard Schröder.
“Art is Flick’s personal passion,” said the state-funded
arts organization, Preussischer Kulturbesitz. “One cannot stigmatize
art, and one cannot continually punish grandchildren for acts committed
by their forefathers.”
Indeed, the issue has even split the Jewish community. As Michael
Blumenthal, the director of Berlin’s celebrated Jewish Museum,
told the German magazineDer Spiegel: “I do not think much of
those who make the grandchildren of those with a Nazi past responsible
for what their forefathers did.”
Source: Independent (UK)
|
