Is the Commonweath ready for an Aids-free generation?

Last week the European Parliament agreed on a new law to provide specific assistance and protection to people who suffer crime because of their sexual orientation, gender identity or, in a first for EU law, gender expression.

Can we expect the Commonwealth to adopt such a progressive approach on HIV and human rights issues? The annual meeting of the Commonwealth Foreign Ministers, coming up soon in New York, normally attracts attention for its economic and political agenda. But among the HIV/Aids community, populations vulnerable to the infection and human rights activists, concern is centered on the fate of certain recommendations relating to the Commonwealth’s legal reform process.

According to the International HIV/Aids Alliance, for whom I act as a Trustee, the 54 Commonwealth countries account for 30 per cent of the world’s population and for 60 per cent of global HIV prevalence which shows the disproportionate nature of risk factors present in these societies. Evidence has proved that much of the HIV-related transmission occurs among sex workers and their clients, men who have sex with men (MSM), the transgender community and people who inject drugs.

Evidence has also shown that without engaging with these populations with prevention and treatment services, new HIV infections will not be brought down. This is true too of hyper epidemic countries in Africa as a substantial share of new infections occurs among these vulnerable groups. Vulnerable populations do not exist in isolation but are intrinsically linked socially and sexually with the general population creating an epidemiological link between different sections of society.

While some Commonwealth countries have seen a steady decline in new infections in the past few years, it is not fast enough to turn the Aids epidemic around and stop its spread. Many will fail to achieve the Millennium Development Goal (MDG) six of halting and reversing the epidemic by 2015.

A serious obstacle for reducing infection rates among vulnerable communities is the adverse legal environment they face which criminalises their behaviour and makes them a target for harassment and violence at the hands of law enforcers in most Commonwealth countries. All but six of these countries still classify same sex conduct as illegal. Since the first UN General Assembly Special Session on Aids the international community and UN member states have repeatedly called for amendment of laws that criminalise the behaviour of vulnerable populations to protect their human rights and fundamental freedoms, in particular access to health care and legal protection. But very little progress on reform has been reported from many Commonwealth countries in the last decade.

The Global Commission on HIV and the Law recently presented incontrovertible evidence that criminalization enhances HIV-related risks among men who have sex with men and transgender populations in Commonwealth countries. In Commonwealth countries in the Caribbean, one in four MSM are infected with HIV while in non-Commonwealth countries the ratio is one to fifteen.

Section 377 stands for criminalization of same sex relations in most of the penal laws of Commonwealth countries of Asia. Transgender people are denied acknowledgement as legal persons and their gender is unrecognized. Acts of sexist violence are committed against them while police stand by. Sex work is criminalized in most of the Commonwealth countries despite compelling evidence that sex workers are 14 times more vulnerable to HIV than other women.  When it comes to drug policy, laws do not differentiate between a drug user and drug trafficker and the war on drug campaigns too often end up as a war on drug users.

The Commission has called upon governments to take immediate action to repeal or amend outdated legislations criminalizing HIV transmission and the behaviours of vulnerable populations. Police and law enforcement machinery must be reined in and asked to protect human rights and guarantee access to HIV-related prevention, treatment and care

The report received strong endorsement from the UN Secretary-General, the heads of UNDP and UNAIDS and many civil society organisations around the world who called for a time bound implementation of the Commission recommendations.

In this context, the upcoming meeting of the Commonwealth Foreign Ministers assumes great significance. Following the Perth meeting of the Heads of Governments of Commonwealth (CHOGM) countries last year, a Ministerial Task Force was asked to develop 44 recommendations and present them for approval. Some have great social relevance like the repeal of discriminatory laws that impede an effective response to the HIV epidemic and the establishment of a Commonwealth Commissioner for Democracy, the Rule of Law and Human Rights.

Whether these recommendations actually make their way into the discussions is another matter.  Civil society organisations and vulnerable communities within the Commonwealth are concerned that the Aids agenda risks being put on the back burner at a time when determined action by these countries could lead us towards an Aids-free generation.

There is still time for the Commonwealth to lead by example and take decisive action to address the legal and structural barriers currently impeding the global HIV response, thereby changing the course of the epidemic once and for all.

Prasada Rao is the UN Secretary General’s Special Envoy on Aids in the Asia Pacific region. He is former Permanent Secretary for Health and Family Welfare in Government of India and former Regional Director of UNAIDS in Asia and the Pacific. He is also a Trustee of the International HIV/Aids Alliance which works to support community action on HIV and AIDS in developing countries.

Sex workers chat to outreach workers at an outdoor café during a street shift in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Photograph: International HIV/AIDS Alliance
Calvert 22/Courtesy of the artist, Danila Tkachenko
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Ruin porn: the art world’s awkward obsession with abandoned Soviet architecture

Deserted fairgrounds, disused factories and forgotten military bases may look cool, but are we fetishising the remnants of such a cruel history?

Armenia, where one side of my family is from, was one of the first members of the USSR, annexed by Russia in 1922. A few years ago, when I visited this little country that perches precariously in the south of the Caucasus, I was struck most by its Soviet architecture.

Although its landscape is a hotchpotch of medieval Orthodox churches, a smattering of Persian-era domes, and brutalist concrete, it was the latter that particularly stuck out. From unfelled statues of Stalin to giant tower blocks spelling out the letters “CCCP” from a bird’s-eye view (well, half spelt-out – construction stopped partway through, with the fall of the Soviet Union), I’ve never forgotten it.

Perhaps it was so compelling because such stark physical symbols make recent history all the more tangible. A history still profoundly affecting the country of my ancestors (and all post-Soviet and communist states). But also, it just looked really cool.


Mixed air corps, Mongolia. Photo: Calvert 22/Courtesy of the artist, Eric Losito

It’s a bit passé now to mock the hipster obsession with reclaimed industrial detritus, exposed pipes and bare concrete. An aesthetic – that of a post-industrial wasteland, but a chic one – which has gripped western cities for years, and crept worldwide.

But it could be this tendency to find disused stuff visually intriguing, and a morbid fascination with cruel regimes, which has led to the art world’s obsession with abandoned Soviet architecture. A whole wave of artists and photographers have been poking around the eastern bloc’s architectural graveyard in recent years.

Late last year, we saw the hugely popular disused Soviet bus stop series by photographer Christopher Herwig, echoing photographer Sergey Novikov’s equally absorbing collection of abandoned Soviet cinemas from 2013.

Following Russian filmmaker and photographer Maria Morina’s “Atomic Cities” project four years ago, London-based artist Nadav Kander explored the “aesthetics of destruction” in his exhibition, Dust, in 2014, snapping “radioactive ruins” of secret cities on the border between Kazakhstan and Russia. The same year, Moscow photographers Sasha Mademuaselle and Sergey Kostromin travelled to the disputed region of Abkhazia, capturing fragments of its deserted infrastructure.


Fighter aviation regiment, Mongolia. Photo: Eric Losito
 

And photojournalist Anton Petrus’ now iconic pictures of Chernobyl’s abandoned amusement park have long been an internet favourite, as have numerous haunting images of Pripyet – the city famous for lying deserted following the nuclear disaster.

Jamie Rann, a lecturer in Russian at Oxford University, has written that the quality and technical accomplishment of most of this photography make the style more “ruin erotica” than “ruin porn” (the tag being used by some critics), but argues: “The enormous online popularity of this genre . . . combined with their voyeuristic, almost exploitative feel, certainly has something porny about it.”

The latest exploration of Soviet society’s skeletons can be found at the Power & Architecture season at London’s Calvert 22 Foundation. In an exhibition called Dead Space and Ruins, we see abandoned military bases and formerly mighty monuments, forgotten space ports freezing in the tundra, the ghost of an entire unused, unfinished city in Armenia lying derelict.



The unfinished "ghost city" built in Armenia to house earthquake survivors (water added by artist). Photo: Calvert 22/Courtesy of the artist, Vahram Aghasyan

The works are beautiful, but do they feed in to this zeitgeisty lust for Soviet ruins?

One of its curators, Will Strong, laments this trend. “I was keen that this didn’t become like a kind of ‘ruin lust’, ‘ruin porn’ thing; this slightly buzzwordy term that there is at the moment, this kind of fetishisation of dead space,” he tells me.

“This history is incredibly loaded, and it did not end in 1991. To sort of fetishise it in the very bourgeois western way of, ‘oh yeah, look at all this wonderful Soviet architecture, isn’t it fantastic?’ Obviously a lot of people who lived in that time hated it . . . a lot of people were very miserable under these regimes, so it’s important not to forget that.”


Gym at the Independent Radar Centre of Early Detection, Latvia. Photo: Eric Losito

He adds: “It’s more a point of reflection on how buildings were designed, what their legacy is, what their narrative is, and who the people are who live with that story. This show looks at the aftermaths of when utopia hasn’t been delivered.”

This view is echoed by the Moscow artist, Danila Tkachenko, whose work is featured in the exhibition. “It is rather a metaphor for the future, not the past,” he says. “It represents an image of a possible future. When there is a visualisation of this issue [utopia], it evokes a response in people; they see this utopia in their lives . . . There is disappointment in all utopias.”


The world's largest diesel submarine, in Russia's Samara region. Photo: Calvert 22/Courtesy of the artist, Danila Tkachenko

His Restricted Areas series explores great behemoths of European communism left to lie forgotten in the tundra of remote regions in and around Russia and Kazakhstan: the world’s largest diesel submarine, like a beached whale in the snow; a giant satellite, thatched with antennae, built to communicate with Soviet bases on other planets some day; the deserted flying saucer-like communist headquarters in a region of Bulgaria. The structures hover in blank, white space, making the photos appear black-and-white.


Deserted observatory, Kazakhstan's Almaty region. Photo: Danila Tkachenko
 

Anton Ginzburg is an artist who grew up in St Petersburg in the Eighties as the Soviet Union was disintegrating. He believes studies like his film, Turo, of disused modernist constructions in the post-Soviet bloc, appeal to people’s connection to history. After all, picking through the architectural carcasses of former societies isn’t exactly a new thing:

“Russian culture is still haunted by its Communist past, and constructivist architecture is a decaying shell for its ghosts. It is an active reminder of the recent history,” he reflects. “Perhaps [its appeal] is a mixture of memento mori, with its thrill of beauty and destruction, along with a Romantic tradition of contemplation of Greek and Roman ruins.”

(Anton Ginzburg Turo teaser from Visionaireworld on Vimeo.)

The Power & Architecture season is on at the Calvert 22 Foundation, London, from 10 June-9 October 2016. Entry is free.

Anoosh Chakelian is deputy web editor at the New Statesman.