The Surprisingly Socialist Origins of International Women’s Day

International Women's Day was once a staple holiday of Eastern European communism, a day when bosses would give red flowers to their female employees. Ostensibly, it was a day to celebrate the achievements of women workers. But in practice, it was a propaganda exercise to highlight socialism's alleged commitment to equality between the sexes.

The holiday has deep roots in the heyday of international socialism. The Women's Day movement started in the early 20th century, with American labor activists celebrating the first National Women's Day in 1909, which was mandated by the Socialist Party of America. The first International Women's Day was celebrated two years later and focused on female voting rights, labor rights, and fighting discrimination. In Russia, the holiday played a crucial role in launching the 1917 October revolution. A women's protest for equal rights on International Women's Day sparked massive workers' protests that would eventually led to the abdication of Tsar Nicholas II during the February revolution -- the first of two upheavals of 1917. 

Today, in Russia and other former members of the Soviet bloc, the holiday has veered far from its radical roots. It is a concoction of Valentine's Day and Mother's Day -- schmaltzy, tacky, and commercial all at once. Women are celebrated for being mothers, wives, and girlfriends -- all roles associated with the men in their lives. Then again, that perhaps isn't so surprising. Some 72 percent of Russians believe that when choosing between a career and a family a woman "should give her preference to the home and family, and work should be placed on the back burner," according to a poll released Friday.  

In Central and Eastern Europe, Women's Day (the "International" is usually dropped from the name) is when men give their sweethearts flowers, gifts, and take them out to dinner. Spas and boutiques offer deals exclusively to women. Newspapers and magazines offer suggestions to boyfriends, suitors, and husbands to embrace Women's Day activities that would make any self-respecting feminist cringe. 

One Polish newspaper generously warns its (male) readers against buying a "really cool apron" or a pot. "It's a recipe for disaster," the paper declares. But the course of action it endorses isn't exactly feminist either: "You can show that you trust your partner and take part in a car race together (a real conundrum: should she be the driver or the navigator), you can take her shopping (and not send her alone)." Another sage nugget: "Carnations and coffee just won't cut it."

The carnation, in particular, has garnered a bad rap in the former Soviet bloc. During the Communist era in Poland, women would receive them from their employer, making the flower now an unpleasant reminder of the former communist regime. Generous workplaces would throw in some coffee beans or pantyhose,  treasured and hard-to-obtain products behind the Iron Curtain.

But feminists in the region aren't happy about the commercialization of the holiday either. Feminists all around Poland organize annual marches for March 8, with a different theme every year -- from political and reproductive rights to early childhood education. For 2014, it is  "Equality in School, at Home, and at Work." In the run-up to last year's Women's Day, Natalya Bitten, a Russian feminist told the Washington Post: "I don't want candy and flowers.... I want a good job and education. Where do flowers and perfume once a year get you if you have nothing the next 364 days?"



This Is the Modern Axis of Buddhist Hate

The photo of the two monks above looks innocent enough. One of the men presents the other with a birthday present. It's difficult to make out, but it looks to be some sort of gold figurine on a red velvet base. In fact, the photo would be totally uninteresting if it weren't for the fact that these men are two of the world's most important leaders of a dangerously radical brand of Buddhism.

The man on the right is Burma's Ashin Wirathu. Known as the "bin Laden of Buddhism," Wirathu leads the country's 969 movement, which sees the country's Muslim minority as an existential threat to its majority Buddhist population. The man on the left is Sri Lanka's Galagoda Atte Gnanasara, the face of hardline Buddhism in the island nation.

Together, these two robed radicals anchor a powerful, violent, and new political force in Asia.

Over the course of the past three years, Burma's former military government has embarked on a series of significant democratic reforms, but the departure from military dictatorship has also coincided with a flowering of a radical Buddhist nationalism that has crystallized in communal violence against the country's Muslim minority. Wirathu has emerged as the public face of that movement, and the monk's anti-Muslim rhetoric has helped incite attacks on Burma's Muslim civilians -- particularly its ethnic Rohingya -- over the past 18 months. Last year, TIME magazine featured Wirathu on its cover under the headline "The Face of Buddhist Terror."

But Wirathu is not alone in setting out a dangerous new vision for a religion grounded in the principle of non-violence. Gnanasara, who serves as a spiritual leader of sorts, is using his position to stoke the same type of religious bigotry in his home country of Sri Lanka.

Gnanasara is the co-founder of Sri Lanka's Bodu Bala Sena, or Buddhist Power Force. The group, which was formed in 2012, agitates against what it sees as the threat Islam poses to Sri Lanka's Sinhalese-Buddhist identity. As in Burma, Muslims in Sri Lanka are a small, largely peaceful minority. But that hasn't stopped Gnanasara's group from stoking fears of extremism.

According to a January report by the Associated Press, Buddhists in Sri Lanka have "attacked dozens of mosques and called for boycotts of Muslim-owned businesses and bans on headscarves and halal foods. At boisterous rallies, monks claim Muslims are out to recruit children, marry Buddhist women and divide the country."

In August 2013, a group of Buddhist monks attacked a mosque in the capital of Colombo. The mob struck the mosque while congregants were engaged in prayer, breaking windows and damaging the building. Both Muslims and Sinhalese Buddhists were injured in the clashes that followed the incident.

The vilification of Muslims is not simply base intolerance; it also serves a convenient purpose for Sri Lanka's largely Sinhalese powerbrokers. Five years after the end of the civil war with the Tamil Tigers, President Mahinda Rajapaksa's political machine needs a new scapegoat for the everyday frustrations of their constituents, many of whom have grown unhappy with the government's heavy-handed security policies and its failure to deliver robust growth. The government seems to be "tacitly encouraging, and in some cases directly supporting, the anti-Muslim campaigns led by militant and often violent Buddhist organizations," according to a November 2013 Crisis Group report.

If Gnanasara is indeed in Burma -- the photos have emerged only on minor Sri Lankan news outlets -- his visit comes at a sadly appropriate time. The Burmese government is considering a law governing inter-faith marriage law that would "protect" Buddhist women by requiring their non-Buddhist suitors to convert and gain permission from the women's parents if they wish to wed. Wirathu has campaigned aggressively in support of the law.

Despite pushback from local activists, public officials in both Sri Lanka and Burma have been loath to challenge Wirathu and Gnanasara. It seems these two men, and the radical brand of Buddhism they represent, are here to stay.