Best-selling journalist Antony Loewenstein trav­els across Afghanistan, Pakistan, Haiti, Papua New Guinea, the United States, Britain, Greece, and Australia to witness the reality of disaster capitalism. He discovers how companies such as G4S, Serco, and Halliburton cash in on or­ganized misery in a hidden world of privatized detention centers, militarized private security, aid profiteering, and destructive mining.

Disaster has become big business. Talking to immigrants stuck in limbo in Britain or visiting immigration centers in America, Loewenstein maps the secret networks formed to help cor­porations bleed what profits they can from economic crisis. He debates with Western contractors in Afghanistan, meets the locals in post-earthquake Haiti, and in Greece finds a country at the mercy of vulture profiteers. In Papua New Guinea, he sees a local commu­nity forced to rebel against predatory resource companies and NGOs.

What emerges through Loewenstein’s re­porting is a dark history of multinational corpo­rations that, with the aid of media and political elites, have grown more powerful than national governments. In the twenty-first century, the vulnerable have become the world’s most valu­able commodity. Disaster Capitalism is published by Verso in 2015.

Profits_of_doom_cover_350Vulture capitalism has seen the corporation become more powerful than the state, and yet its work is often done by stealth, supported by political and media elites. The result is privatised wars and outsourced detention centres, mining companies pillaging precious land in developing countries and struggling nations invaded by NGOs and the corporate dollar. Best-selling journalist Antony Loewenstein travels to Afghanistan, Pakistan, Haiti, Papua New Guinea and across Australia to witness the reality of this largely hidden world of privatised detention centres, outsourced aid, destructive resource wars and militarized private security. Who is involved and why? Can it be stopped? What are the alternatives in a globalised world? Profits of Doom, published in 2013 and released in an updated edition in 2014, challenges the fundamentals of our unsustainable way of life and the money-making imperatives driving it. It is released in an updated edition in 2014.
forgodssakecover Four Australian thinkers come together to ask and answer the big questions, such as: What is the nature of the universe? Doesn't religion cause most of the conflict in the world? And Where do we find hope?   We are introduced to different belief systems – Judaism, Christianity, Islam – and to the argument that atheism, like organised religion, has its own compelling logic. And we gain insight into the life events that led each author to their current position.   Jane Caro flirted briefly with spiritual belief, inspired by 19th century literary heroines such as Elizabeth Gaskell and the Bronte sisters. Antony Loewenstein is proudly culturally, yet unconventionally, Jewish. Simon Smart is firmly and resolutely a Christian, but one who has had some of his most profound spiritual moments while surfing. Rachel Woodlock grew up in the alternative embrace of Baha'i belief but became entranced by its older parent religion, Islam.   Provocative, informative and passionately argued, For God's Sakepublished in 2013, encourages us to accept religious differences, but to also challenge more vigorously the beliefs that create discord.  
After Zionism, published in 2012 and 2013 with co-editor Ahmed Moor, brings together some of the world s leading thinkers on the Middle East question to dissect the century-long conflict between Zionism and the Palestinians, and to explore possible forms of a one-state solution. Time has run out for the two-state solution because of the unending and permanent Jewish colonization of Palestinian land. Although deep mistrust exists on both sides of the conflict, growing numbers of Palestinians and Israelis, Jews and Arabs are working together to forge a different, unified future. Progressive and realist ideas are at last gaining a foothold in the discourse, while those influenced by the colonial era have been discredited or abandoned. Whatever the political solution may be, Palestinian and Israeli lives are intertwined, enmeshed, irrevocably. This daring and timely collection includes essays by Omar Barghouti, Jonathan Cook, Joseph Dana, Jeremiah Haber, Jeff Halper, Ghada Karmi, Antony Loewenstein, Saree Makdisi, John Mearsheimer, Ahmed Moor, Ilan Pappe, Sara Roy and Phil Weiss.
The 2008 financial crisis opened the door for a bold, progressive social movement. But despite widespread revulsion at economic inequity and political opportunism, after the crash very little has changed. Has the Left failed? What agenda should progressives pursue? And what alternatives do they dare to imagine? Left Turn, published by Melbourne University Press in 2012 and co-edited with Jeff Sparrow, is aimed at the many Australians disillusioned with the political process. It includes passionate and challenging contributions by a diverse range of writers, thinkers and politicians, from Larissa Berendht and Christos Tsiolkas to Guy Rundle and Lee Rhiannon. These essays offer perspectives largely excluded from the mainstream. They offer possibilities for resistance and for a renewed struggle for change.
The Blogging Revolution, released by Melbourne University Press in 2008, is a colourful and revelatory account of bloggers around the globe why live and write under repressive regimes - many of them risking their lives in doing so. Antony Loewenstein's travels take him to private parties in Iran and Egypt, internet cafes in Saudi Arabia and Damascus, to the homes of Cuban dissidents and into newspaper offices in Beijing, where he discovers the ways in which the internet is threatening the ruld of governments. Through first-hand investigations, he reveals the complicity of Western multinationals in assisting the restriction of information in these countries and how bloggers are leading the charge for change. The blogging revolution is a superb examination about the nature of repression in the twenty-first century and the power of brave individuals to overcome it. It was released in an updated edition in 2011, post the Arab revolutions, and an updated Indian print version in 2011.
The best-selling book on the Israel/Palestine conflict, My Israel Question - on Jewish identity, the Zionist lobby, reporting from Palestine and future Middle East directions - was released by Melbourne University Press in 2006. A new, updated edition was released in 2007 (and reprinted again in 2008). The book was short-listed for the 2007 NSW Premier's Literary Award. Another fully updated, third edition was published in 2009. It was released in all e-book formats in 2011. An updated and translated edition was published in Arabic in 2012.

Why literary festivals matter

My weekly Guardian column:

The Byron Bay writers’ festival, one of Australia’s largest literary events, has just finished after three days of discussion and debate under sunshine and rain. With record-breaking crowds listening to writers and rappers in large outdoor tents, it was impossible not to be seduced by the diverse participants, including British authors Jeanette Winterson and Geoff Dyer. I spoke about vulture capitalism, Gaza, Palestine and adversarial journalism.

The growth of literary festivals in Australia and globally is a cultural phenomenon that deserves more discussion. India’s annual Jaipur literary event attracts over 100,000 people in a frenzy of debate, colour and energy. When I spoke in Jaipur in 2011, there were “only” around 50,000 visitors. The event’s reputation and stature has grown exponentially since then.

Martin Puchner, the Byron and Anita Wien Professor of English at Harvard University, writes:

“It is difficult to imagine something like the Jaipur Literary Festival in China, and not just because of state censorship there. Jaipur is made possible by the democratic diversity of India … but also by the deep roots that tie India to the Anglophone world.”

In fact, Chinese literary festivals are growing in size and reach, as are similar events in Indonesia and South Africa, as are literary festivals in Sydney, Melbourne, Darwin, Perth and Brisbane, which challenge the notion that the book is dying due to the rise of digital publishing.

Around 80,000 people attended at least one Sydney writers’ festival event this year. San Francisco’s Litquake festival encourages writers to read their fiction from tablets, laptops or mobile phones. Self-published authors are thriving, making money (some, anyway) and demanding to be included at the establishment table.

The snobbery around these writers should disappear because finding a respected publisher may not always be the ideal option. Britain’s Polari first book prize, for writers exploring the LGBT experience, has this year shortlisted two self-published authors on its longlist.

This global literary movement is frequently backed by corporate dollars and state funding, surely the sign of a healthy democracy. Unfortunately, necessary questions over sponsors using their dollars to whitewash bad behaviour or greenwash polluting or destructive policies are too often ignored in the rush to accept the money.

That’s why this year’s controversy over Australian company Transfield, who turn a profit from managing asylum seekers in mandatory detention while backing the Sydney Biennale, was a unique opportunity to link the arts to business practices. Literary festivals would be wise to take note, lest they be accused of turning a blind eye to dirty dollars being spent on worthwhile pursuits.

Why do we love these annual institutions? Founder of The Hoopla, Wendy Harmer, launching the Newcastle writers’ festival in April characteristic style, argued that a communal need for spiritual and intellectual nourishment, along with disillusionment with the political process and its media followers, draws populations to discover new places to share ideas.

With regional towns getting in on the act, Harmer said, “the hunger for communion with like-minded souls is growing. Especially among women, who are not content to sing along to the same old hymn book or obey party rules set by institutions run by men”.

The strength of any cultural institution is its willingness to build an audience, make them feel at home, provoke them, and bring them enjoyment. Reflecting on the politics of the time is surely a pre-requisite for remaining relevant and topical, and yet there often remains a curious lack of diverse voices arguing over the issues of the day.

One of the most persistent critics of literary festivals in Australia is the Sydney Institute’s Gerard Henderson. He often writes that the partly “taxpayer subsidised” writers’ events are heavily skewed against rightwingers. In 2013 he wanted to know why there were largely “leftist, left-of-centre or social democratic participants” in Sydney.

“And what about right-of-centre types and social conservatives?” he asked. “Well, it seems that fewer than a dozen fit this category. That’s a balance of six to one. That’s your typical Sydney Writers’ Festival. That’s your taxpayer dollar working for – well, you be the judge.”

Henderson is, in part, correct. It’s rare to find political panels with writers who vehemently oppose each other’s point of view and argue for, say, the strengths in Tony Abbott’s government, tough asylum seekers policies or the war in Iraq. I think this matters and it’s surely important to provide a platform for articulate advocates of these positions. This is not about spurious balance – literary festivals aren’t designed to have two self-described leftwingers and two conservatives on every panel – but robust disagreement is healthier than constant, furious agreement.

Like many of us in our online habits, we spend too much time listening and reading to those who we like and respect rather than find uncomfortable or offensive. This circular behaviour is like comfort food; tasty but ultimately unintellectual.

Last weekend in Byron I was on a panel with writer Abbas El-Zein, and Pulitzer Prize winning Washington Post journalist David Finkel, on the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Finkel and I clashed over the benefits of embedding in a war zone versus independent reporting, and whether we should have more sympathy for occupation forces or civilians under their rule. It was heated but respectful and reflected a different worldview towards reporting in a time of conflict. The audience responded positively to the spirited discussion.

Literary festivals have the opportunity to challenge authoritarianism and intolerance. Events don’t operate in a vacuum – witness the 2011 campaign, of which I was a part, alongside Tariq Ali and Noam Chomsky, against a cosy Galle writers’ festival in the heart of a repressive Sri Lankan state. Writers and audiences have a responsibility to remember to both enjoy themselves and the many artists imprisoned and killed for simply expressing a critical, public opinion.

We Australians feel connected to the wider world but are also insulated from its more brutal waves. Writers’ festivals are a unique way for us to briefly connect with each other during a time of global unease and insecurity.

no comments – be the first ↪