Where did they get this idea from, the YouTube debates? Al Qaeda’s second-in- command Ayman al-Zawahri will take questions from around the world next month in a video interview. This news got buried a bit in the reporting on his latest video but I asked our correspondent Firouz Sedarat in Dubai for some more information. He says this looks like the first time that Osama bin Laden’s right-hand man will go interactive like this.

As-Sahab, the Al Qaeda online media outlet that broadcasts these videos, has asked its viewers to send in “brief and focused” questions for the elusive Egyptian. “We urge the brothers overseeing the gathering of the questions to pass them on without any changes, be they pro or con, and As-Sahab will do its best to issue the answers by Sheikh Ayman al-Zawahri to these questions as soon as possible,” it said. It gave no further details about the format.

Zawahri himself didn’t mention any Q&A in the 97-minute video, so it’s not clear if he knows about the YouTube debates in his hideout. He talks about both religious and political issues in his videos, although his statements related to security issues usually grab the headlines. Among the religious issues in the latest video was an attack of Saudi King Abdullah for meeting Pope Benedict at the Vatican last month. In an unusually fast reaction, the Vatican responded by saying he seemed afraid of dialogue with other religions.

The TechCrunch blog has been wondering whether Zawahri might follow the YouTube debate format: “Would Al-Qaeda respond to questions submitted by video like the YouTube presidential debates, or should questions be via email only? Who will choose which questions are put forward? Will there be an exit-poll on the responses?”

What do you think of these videos? Are they just Al Qaeda propaganda? Or is it worthwhile to have someone like Zawahri explaining what the group thinks?

Zawahri’s latest video, 17 Dec. 2007

Khartoum correspondent Opheera McDoom looks back at the “teddy bear saga”

The “teddy bear saga” broke on a Monday with the news that Gillian Gibbons had been arrested by authorities. We’re used to stories of people being taken from their homes at night by armed security forces in Khartoum, so I was caught a little by surprise at the immense interest this case attracted. But as the story grew, the world’s press descended on Khartoum and the adrenalin of covering one of the world’s top stories kicked in.

The court case was an agonising and panicked rush in the morning as no one — not even Gibbons’ defence lawyers — was quite sure where the case was going to be heard. Unusually, she was in court the day after charges were pressed . The judge decided to keep going long into the night, and after the busy courthouse had emptied of its usual crowd, before reaching a verdict.

It was a chaotic scene. I bumped into many of my Sudanese journalist colleagues. I had assumed they were there to cover the case, but instead I found that many journalists from the independent press were there for another reason — they had court cases against them for libel or defamation. The editor of Sudan’s leading independent daily and his deputy — two colleagues I really respect in the profession — were being escorted through the courthouse. They were being released after nearly two weeks in jail for defaming the government. And then a dazed and confused Gibbons was led through a crowd of onlookers to the courtroom, escorted by police.

The judge decided on a closed court, usually reserved for military trials, and the police formed a locked line. Shouting loudly, they gradually pushed the crowd, including defence lawyers, journalists and British embassy officials, back away from the court room. After a screaming match, the head defence lawyer was allowed in and, a few hours later, the British consul too. But journalists were edged further and further away as the long day went on.

Gibbons could have been sentenced to 40 lashes, up to a year in prison or a fine if found guilty of insulting Islam. But on more than one occasion, I was asked in the courthouse by ordinary Sudanese “Is it over yet? What a silly case!” Clearly not all the population were flag and sword-waving fanatics calling for her death (an image most media used of up to 1,000 demonstrators the following day after Friday prayers). Considering that most Sudanese go to mosque on that day, I was surprised at how small the protest was.

Back in the courthouse, I heard a strange sound and saw what I thought were men cleaning or repairing the walls with a strange rod. Later on, when it happened again nearer to the line of police, I realised a man was being lashed after being found guilty of drinking alcohol. Facing the wall and fully clothed, he was smacked with a hard leather whip on the back of his thighs. Less than a metre away, the British consul sat trying to look the other way and pretending to play with his mobile phone as the whipping ended in a shouting match between police and the whippee.

Despite hours of pleading, authorities banned all filming and photography in or anywhere near the building. One cameraman tried to push his luck, and within five minutes, all those carrying cameras were arrested. I spent much of the afternoon trying to get photographers released and their cameras back in between filing updates on the trial.

Then a colleague next to me was arrested. When he asked why, the police said it was because they thought I had taken pictures with my camera. “Then why don’t you arrest her?” he asked. “We don’t speak English, how can we talk to her?” they replied. Trying to rescue him, they soon found out I spoke fluent Arabic.

Later on, as security pushed all the journalists downstairs, I was called upstairs by the guards. “Great, NOW I’m being arrested,” I thought, as I weaved past the guards. But instead, the officer who had been in charge of Gibbons where she was first held said: “We have all her things and we don’t want them — can we give them to you? It’s just a blanket.” A little taken aback, I reminded them I was just a journalist, but they insisted and took me outside to a pick-up with darkened windows. The random “khawajiyya” (foreigner) who spoke Arabic must know where to take the stuff, they thought. The officer then piled up five bags of blankets, duvets, pillows, food (lots of apples) and other things. Fast running out of hands to carry it, I brought my car over and loaded it up before passing the things on to Gibbons’ school.

What a surreal ending. “Does this mean she’s going to be freed?” I asked security. “She’s either going home or going to jail,” they replied. Poor Gillian, I thought. I had visited Omdurman Women’s prison in 2004, and it was no Hilton. Overcrowded, packed with sick women with sick babies who rely on family or Sudanese charities to bring them food, it was a miserable place. And I didn’t imagine it was like French cheese. It didn’t improve with time.

Gillian’s guilty sentence took many by surprise, as the prosecution’s case was so weak and the defence so strong. Her Sudanese Muslim teaching assistant, who was in the classroom with her when the teddy bear’s name of Mohammad was chosen, testified for the defence, as did parents of the pupils. It was an innocent error, they said. And they had seen nothing wrong with it at the time and still did not. The teddy was named after a student by the children. Gillian had done nothing wrong. But despite being found guilty, Gibbons’ sentence was light at just 15 days in jail and then deportation. Many Sudanese remember vividly Mahmoud Mohamed Taha, who was executed in the 1980s for his controversial views on Islam, which prompted the then newly-Islamic government to accuse him of apostasy.

While Khartoum may have thought it had satisfied all sides with the verdict, they underestimated the power of the British tabloid press, which had poured into Sudan over the past week. On the hunt for the teddy, which was confiscated as evidence, the journalists — who were used to the UK where they can take pictures or film anywhere and get easy access to information — found Sudan’s working environment strange.

So Gillian finally made it home safe and sound and is back with her family. While I was happy for her, I just wished the hundreds of Sudanese subjected to similar cases were half as lucky.

The Roman Catholic bishop of Arabia has published a letter on the dialogue call by 138 Muslim scholars pointing out possible stumbling blocs for future talks. The article by Bishop Paul Hinder in Oasis , a multilingual Catholic-Muslim dialogue magazine published in Venice, welcomes the appeal and says: “Here are Muslims offering a hand that we should take.”

The Swiss-born bishop is based in Abu Dhabi with responsibility for Catholics in the whole Arabian Peninsula. Just before the historic visit by Saudi King Abdullah to the Vatican on Nov. 6, he called in a Reuters interview for more freedom and security for minority Christians in Saudi Arabia and more freedom for foreign priests to enter the country to administer to them. There are about 1.2 million Christians in Saudi Arabia, nearly a million of them Catholics. Most are Filipino migrant workers.

In his Oasis article, Hinder listed several points that seem to have raised questions among Catholic theologians:

– There has to be further clarification about whether “the love of God” and the “love of neighbour” have the same meaning in both religions … we cannot speak about the love of God and love of the neighbour without taking a clear position regarding the human dignity of each individual person and his or her right to live and to grow in freedom … For Christians, love goes beyond neighbour to include the enemy too, whether that person belongs to their own religion or not…

– Another crucial point might be that Christians cannot simply see Jesus Christ as one among other prophets, but profess him in his divinity as the living Son of God within the belief in One God in three Persons.

– Looking at some of the signatories, the question might be raised of whether some of their earlier statements and publications can be interpreted or revised in the light of this letter, or whether its credibility should suffer because of their earlier statements. I am more than happy if the first of these two presumptions is the right one.

– Regarding the love of God and the love of the neighbour, Jews and Christians have literally a common ground, which is explicitly mentioned in the letter of the 138 Muslims. Taking the content and the quotations of the Open Letter I am surprised that it is addressed to Christian leaders only and not also to the Jewish leaders. Is it not a missed opportunity?

Hinder has also spoken to the Rome-based Catholic news agency AsiaNews about King Abdullah’s visit and what it could mean for Christians in Saudi Arabia.

Aref Ali Nayed, one of the 138 Muslim scholars, spoke to the BBC’s Reporting Religion programme on the twin theme of the appeal and Abdullah’s visit. And Adrian Pabst, a professor of religion and politics, wrote in the International Herald Tribune that “We need a real debate, not more dialogue.”

The tenor of the Muslim appeal seems to be that the issues Hinder mentions are minor, while some Catholic reactions hint they could be major hurdles.

Do you think these Catholic reservations should hold up a dialogue that many other Christian leaders have responded positively to?