Can we stop arming Bahrain’s tyrants please?

A former foreign minister makes a valid point, as another Arab tyranny wobbles.

It's getting ugly in Bahrain – the BBC is reporting three dead and hundreds injured, as the emir's security forces disperse thousands of anti-government protesters in Pearl Square in the centre of the capital, Manama.

It's also getting worryingly sectarian. As the BBC notes in its online report:

Since independence from the UK in 1971, tensions between the Sunni elite and the less affluent Shia have frequently caused civil unrest. Shia groups say they are marginalised, subject to unfair laws and repressed.

Along with Iran and Iraq, Bahrain is one of three Shia-majority countries in the Middle East. There are rumours of Saudi support for Bahraini security forces; the Sunni elite have long been paranoid about a so-called Shia crescent emerging in the region. As the New York Times's Nicholas Kristof tweeted earlier:

Witnesses say #Bahrain police cursed Shia as they attacked peaceful demonstrators. I haven't found 1 Sunni victim.

So what can we do, here in the UK? I have a suggestion. How about we stop arming the Bahraini security forces? Is that such a radical or crazy suggestion, in the midst of all this bloodshed? The Labour MP and former Foreign Office minister Denis MacShane has just sent out a press release stating that:

According to the Department of Business's report on weapons exports, minister in the third quarter of 2010 agrees to export licences to Bahrain for the equipment listed below:

Q3 2010 Pivot Report
OIEL issued for CS hand grenades, demolition charges, demolition devices, exploding simulation devices, fire simulation equipment for small arms ammunition, illuminators, military devices for initiating explosives, signal flares, signal hand grenades, smoke ammunition, smoke canisters, smoke generators, smoke hand grenades, stun grenades, tear gas/irritant ammunition, tear gas/riot control agents, thunderflashes, training anti-aircraft ammunition, training hand grenades; (Source House of Commons Library)

MacShane says:

William Hague is shockingly complacent about the exports of British weapons used to kill, wound and repress innocent people protesting for their rights in Bahrain. At the very least all these exports should be suspended.

He makes a valid point. I'm not sure what the government's counter-argument would be!

If I wanted to be mean, though, I might remind Denis that the New Labour government – and Foreign Office – he was part of had no qualms about supplying weapons and training to some of the world's most repressive governments, including regimes in the Arab world. Plus ça change . . .

Mehdi Hasan is a contributing writer for the New Statesman and the co-author of Ed: The Milibands and the Making of a Labour Leader. He was the New Statesman's senior editor (politics) from 2009-12.

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Rarely has it mattered so little if Manchester United won; rarely has it been so special they did

Team's Europa League victory offers chance for sorely needed celebration of a city's spirit.

Carlo Ancelotti, the Bayern Munich manager, memorably once said that football is “the most important of the least important things”, but he was only partly right. While it is absolutely the case that a bunch of people chasing around a field is insignificant, a bunch of people chasing around a field is not really what football is about.

At a football match can you set aside the strictures that govern real life and freely scream, shout and cuddle strangers. Football tracks life with such unfailing omnipresence, garnishing the mundane with regular doses of drama and suspense; football is amazing, and even when it isn’t there’s always the possibility that it’s about to be.

Football bestows primal paroxysms of intense, transcendent ecstasy, shared both with people who mean everything and people who mean nothing. Football carves out time for people it's important to see and delivers people it becomes important to see. Football is a structure with folklore, mythology, language and symbols; being part of football is being part of something big, special, and eternal. Football is the best thing in the world when things go well, and still the best thing in the world when they don’t. There is nothing remotely like it. Nothing.

Football is about community and identity, friends and family; football is about expression and abandon, laughter and song; football is about love and pride. Football is about all the beauty in the world.

And the world is a beautiful place, even though it doesn’t always seem that way – now especially. But in the horror of terror we’ve seen amazing kindness, uplifting unity and awesome dignity which is the absolute point of everything.

In Stockholm last night, 50,000 or so people gathered for a football match, trying to find a way of celebrating all of these things. Around town before the game the atmosphere was not as boisterous as usual, but in the ground the old conviction gradually returned. The PA played Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds, an Ajax staple with lyrics not entirely appropriate: there is plenty about which to worry, and for some every little thing is never going to be alright.

But somehow the sentiment felt right and the Mancunian contingent joined in with gusto, following it up with “We’ll never die,” – a song of defiance born from the ashes of the Munich air disaster and generally aired at the end of games, often when defeat is imminent. Last night it was needed from the outset, though this time its final line – “we’ll keep the red flag flying high, coz Man United will never die" – was not about a football team but a city, a spirit, and a way of life. 

Over the course of the night, every burst of song and even the minute's silence chorused with that theme: “Manchester, Manchester, Manchester”; “Manchester la la la”; “Oh Manchester is wonderful”. Sparse and simple words, layered and complex meanings.

The match itself was a curious affair. Rarely has it mattered so little whether or not United won; rarely has it been so special that they did. Manchester United do not represent or appeal to everyone in Manchester but they epitomise a similar brilliance to Manchester, brilliance which they take to the world. Brilliance like youthfulness, toughness, swagger and zest; brilliance which has been to the fore these last three days, despite it all.

Last night they drew upon their most prosaic aspects, outfighting and outrunning a willing but callow opponent to win the only trophy to have eluded them. They did not make things better, but they did bring happiness and positivity at a time when happiness and positivity needed to be brought; football is not “the most important of the least important things,” it is the least important of the most important things.

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