Originally published on Global Voices

Nyibol Mathiang Deng, 27, and her child receive energy biscuits from aid workers after arriving at the South Sudan border point in Majok Yinthiou. Photo by Peter Caton from Action Against Hunger, used with permission.

By Dr. Charles E. Owubah

Nyibol Mathiang Deng was six months pregnant when armed men stormed Muglad, the Sudanese village where she lived. Fearing the rest of her family was dead, she hid with her daughter. Soon, they set off on a challenging four-day journey by car, motorcycle, and foot, braving dangerous terrain and enduring blistering heat. When they finally arrived in Majok, South Sudan, they were relieved to be reunited with the rest of their family. But they were confronted by an uncertain future.

Nyibol is not alone in her plight. In fact, she is part of a much broader pattern — one that is having far-reaching ripples across the African continent.

Africa’s revolving door

Driven by conflict, climate change, and poverty, millions across central Africa are trapped in an escalating cycle of displacement. For example, Global Voices reports that drought in Somalia is pushing thousands of climate refugees into Kenya's Dadaab Refugee Camp. Whether through forced displacement or voluntary migration, people are crossing borders in search of safety and opportunity, only to find conditions as dire — or even worse — than those they fled. The region is increasingly becoming a revolving door of migration and adversity.

To vastly simplify a complex situation, consider that over several years, more than 100,000 people are estimated to have left Chad for Sudan. Many struggled to find employment. Then, armed conflict in Sudan caused an escalating humanitarian crisis and what may be the worst hunger emergency in the world. While humanitarian organizations are trying to alleviate suffering, resources are spread too thin. So, perhaps it’s not a surprise that since the start of the current conflict in April 2023, more than 821,300 people from Sudan have sought refuge in South Sudan. 

However, South Sudan has challenges of its own, including conflict, severe flooding and food insecurity which displaced millions. By the end of 2023, conditions in South Sudan left about 2 million people internally displaced and a further 2.3 million refugees in neighboring countries.  Some who left South Sudan headed to the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC).

Yet, in the DRC, clashes between military forces and insurgents are driving insecurity, hunger and a mental health crisis. As a result, tens of thousands of people have left the DRC for other places, including the Central African Republic. Unfortunately, similar shocks in the Central African Republic have displaced millions, with many lacking access to basic necessities like food, water and shelter. As a result, many have left the Central African Republic for Chad. And the cycle continues.

A complex web of displacement

To be clear, the revolving door is not a singular loop. It is a complex web of multi-directional movement. Not all migration flows are of comparable size or occurring at the same time. For example, the flow of migrants from Chad to Sudan has largely reversed as the conflict in Sudan has escalated into a humanitarian disaster. Today, Chad hosts an estimated one million refugees from Sudan — roughly equal to one in 17 people in the country.

Repatriation also plays a role. For example, during the war in South Sudan, many families moved to Sudan, which was comparatively stable with some economic opportunities, mostly in agriculture and manual labor. Then, when conflict broke out in Sudan, close to 600,000 South Sudanese returned to their home country. This included children who had never known South Sudan and often lacked the local family ties to protect and sustain them.

These returnees, together with Sudanese refugees, are straining already stretched basic services with the potential to lead to further conflict. The response from the global community has been woefully inadequate. The magnitude of this crisis is alarming: it impacts an estimated 45 million people and has grown by 14 percent.

Even as thousands leave any given country, thousands more may be pouring in. Even more are internally displaced, within their own borders but unable to return home. Some people move repeatedly, whether internally displaced within borders or crossing borders as migrants or refugees. The lines can be blurred.

One cycle drives another

This revolving door of displacement is driven by other interrelated cycles. The climate crisis is a hunger crisis.  In the Horn of Africa alone, over 36 million people have been affected by droughts which have decreased crop yields and caused food shortages. As climate change worsens, so does conflict — which only worsens this situation. As noted in the UN Security Council Resolution 2417, too often, hunger is used as a weapon of war. Despite the UN Resolution, we are seeing a vicious cycle where conflict drives hunger, and hunger drives conflict.

This endless cycle points to deeper systemic failures that leave the world’s most marginalized people even more vulnerable.

Opening the door to opportunity

Research consistently shows that newcomers, including immigrants and refugees, can benefit their host communities, including potential economic gains in low- and middle-income countries. However, if immigration isn’t well managed, it can strain local resources in the short term. Fortunately, there are effective models to address these challenges, and Uganda stands out as a potential example for the world.

Uganda hosts approximately 1.7 million refugees from more than ten countries. Their comprehensive framework, The Uganda Country Refugee Response Plan (UCRRP), focuses on strengthening access to public services, enhancing self-reliance and promoting co-existence with the host community. This framework also calls for increased support from development actors to bolster government systems. Nonprofit organizations like Action Against Hunger also play an important role. Action Against Hunger has helped countless families seeking refuge in Uganda, for example, to establish roots in their new communities. This can involve providing agricultural training for families to cultivate their own food, job training and internships for young people, and financial literacy workshops, among other programs. Yet, resources are limited. 

The global community urgently needs to increase funding for humanitarian relief and also invest in proven programs, such as climate-smart agriculture, that can prevent displacement. Yet, in 2023, countries dealing with crisis levels of hunger — or worse — only received 35 percent of their requested funding for hunger-related programs. In other words, the hunger funding gap hovers around 65 percent. This situation should concern anyone who wants to live in a peaceful and equitable world.

Nyibol Mathiang Deng, 27, and her child receive energy biscuits from an aid worker after arriving at the South Sudan border point in Majok Yinthiou. Photo by Peter Caton from Action Against Hunger, used with permission.

Fortunately, Nyibol's journey has led her to a place where she can start over. She and her family have relocated to Kuajok, South Sudan, with the help of aid organizations, and she hopes to get back to farming there as soon as the rains return. Despite the challenges she is having in reconstructing her life, Nyibol remains determined and courageous. Yet, without systemic change and sufficient funding, millions of people like Nyibol will remain trapped in a revolving door of displacement. 

Written by Guest Contributor

Originally published on Global Voices

Poster of ‘I'm Still Here’. Image by Alile Dara Onawale/Videofilmes.

If you've seen anything about ”I'm Still Here” (“Ainda Estou Aqui”), the Brazilian film about a forced disappearance during the military dictatorship (1964–1985), you would have come across the photo above.

A screenshot from the film and the image of its official poster shows Rubens Paiva with two of his five children and his wife, Maria Eunice, on a beach in Rio de Janeiro. While Paiva and the children smile, facing the camera, Eunice looks in a different direction and frowns. Army trucks are passing by the street nearby, and their lives are about to be forever changed.

Paiva is one of the 434 dead and disappeared people in Brazil, according to the National Truth Commission. In January 1971, security forces took Paiva from his home to be interrogated by the police and drove him in his own car. He never came back, and his body was never found.

The film, directed by Walter Salles, is based on a book with the same title written by Rubens Paiva's son, Marcelo Rubens Paiva, and recounts his family's everyday life in the 1970s and how they faced the days following his father's absence, setting a special focus on his mother, Eunice. His parents are played by actors Selton Mello and Fernanda Torres.

It tells a story of the present past, in the same year as the 60th anniversary of the coup d'état that started the dictatorship, and while national headlines report about a military plot to attempt a new coup that would impede Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva‘s inauguration after the 2022 elections.

The movie passed 2 million viewers in Brazil alone, more than the national audience for blockbusters such as Wicked, and is Brazil's submission for the Oscars.

A true story

Rubens Paiva's abduction is an emblematic case from one of the harshest eras for human rights violations in Brazil. According to his son, Marcelo, the National Truth Commission (CNV) installed during the government of Dilma Rousseff — herself a former political prisoner and guerrilla fighter — gave him important elements for his book.

About two years prior to Paiva's forced disappearance, the regime issued the act that would toughen the repression in December 1968: the Institutional Act Number Five, AI-5. The suspension of civil rights was expanded, and ”it enabled institutionalization of arbitrary detention, torture, and extrajudicial killing by the regime,” as summarized on Wikipedia.

When the coup d'état overthrew João Goulart's government, Paiva was one of the Congressmen who had their mandates revoked. An engineer and father of five children, he had been elected by the state of São Paulo two years before with Goulart's party. On April 1, 1964, with the coup underway, he spoke at the National Radio, defending the president and calling São Paulo's government ”fascist” for supporting the coup.

Paiva went to exile but returned to Brazil a while later and carried on with his life alongside his family.

On January 20, 1971, at 41 years old, he was taken from his home, in front of his wife and children, to be interrogated — never to return. Eunice and their 15-year-old daughter were also taken right after, but they didn't see him at the army facility where they were held. ”I'm Still Here” focuses on how his wife coped with this moment and his brutal and sudden disappearance, without telling much about his fate, in the same way Eunice couldn't get any answers for decades about what happened to her husband.

Past uncovered 

More details were revealed years later through hearings at the Truth Commissions, which began in 2012. São Paulo's state commission was even named after Paiva.

In 1986, Cecilia de Barros Viveiros de Castro, a woman who was detained at the Galeão Airport after visiting her son in Chile, told the police she recognized Paiva in a car when she was being taken to be interrogated. Letters from people exiled there were found with her and another woman, one of them addressed to Paiva.

Six months after Paiva was taken, in June 1971, the military regime issued a document that was read by a Congressman at the National Congress, claiming they were driving Paiva to a location to identify the house of the person responsible for bringing the letters, but the car was intercepted, a shooting took place, and he fled with a group.

As the National Truth Commission's report stresses, this version of the story and the denial of knowing his whereabouts were repeated by the military over the years despite contradictions.

Official records and testimonies given to the Truth Commissions made it collapse. Coronel Ronald Leão told CNV that Paiva arrived at the 1st Army DOI (Department of Information), and he was then interrogated and tortured. An eyewitness said the commander responsible for the place was made aware Paiva wouldn't survive the torture sessions.

Former Colonel Paulo Malhães, also in a deposition to the CNV, said those who died at the hands of the repression were usually not buried to avoid leaving any trace. He went on to describe their methods to hide the corpses: they would erase the features of victims, remove teeth and fingerprints, and cut their stomachs to avoid gas so the bodies wouldn't float on the water after being thrown at rivers or the sea.

About Paiva, Malhães said he did receive the mission to hide the body but couldn't conclude it because of other tasks. After Malhães’ assassination in 2014, his widow came clean, saying he told her Paiva was thrown into a river.

The same year, 43 years after Paiva's abduction, five military officers were accused by the Federal Public Prosecution of killing and concealing his corpse. The case stalled at the Supreme Court, with three of the accused men dying since then without ever being judged.

Past present

At the same time that Rubens Paiva's story fills movie theaters with Brazilians learning more about the state terrorism that shattered lives and families, news about another coup attempt, also involving military officers, made the past even more present.

On November 21, the Federal Police indicted former president Jair Bolsonaro and 36 other people for attempting a coup that would have ruptured the rule of law to keep him in power after Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva's election win in 2022. Among the accused, 25 are military or former military, including Bolsonaro himself.

According to the investigation's 884-page report that was released to the public, the former president led the criminal organization that plotted the coup d'état. The document says, as reported by AP:

The evidence collected throughout the investigation shows unequivocally that then-President Jair Messias Bolsonaro planned, acted and was directly and effectively aware of the actions of the criminal organization aiming to launch a coup d’etat and eliminate the democratic rule of law, which did not take place due to reasons unrelated to his desire.

The case will continue its legal process with the federal prosecution.

In 2014, a statue honoring Paiva's memory was placed at the National Congress. Bolsonaro, a congressman at the time who grew up in the same region where the Paiva family had a farm, showed up at the ceremony and spat on it in front of Paiva's family members.

In an interview while promoting the film, director Walter Salles said:

You know, when we started this, we thought that we were making a film to somehow reflect a bit of our past that hadn't been captured by the camera. And then we realized that it is also about our present, and may be also about our future.

#ImStillHere is about more than just the past. Walter Salles reflects on what it can mean to audiences today. pic.twitter.com/z2gQdCFmRa

— Sony Pictures Classics (@sonyclassics) November 30, 2024

Written by Fernanda Canofre

Originally published on Global Voices

Screenshot of the Russia Post website. Fair use.

This article by sociologist Anna Kuleshova, writing for Russia Post, spotlights Russian artists in exile, who, while dealing with the challenges faced by all emigrants, have managed to unite many of their compatriots living abroad and are changing the public image of their home country. An edited version is republished by Global Voices with permission from Russia Post.

In the interviews I conduct with Russians who left their country after the start of the Ukraine war, one of the frequent and painful stories is that of losing or changing professions in emigration.

Who needs Russian-language art outside of Russia? How is it even possible if the country has been “cancelled?”

There are several million Russians living outside of Russia, including emigrants from different historical periods and their descendants. This is several million potential Russian-speaking consumers of cultural products, not to mention those who left after the start of the war and so-called “partial mobilization,” as well as foreigners who are interested in Russian art, even if it is not their native language.

Russians outside of their country do not always form neat diasporas and sometimes do not communicate with one another at all. In France, a respondent told me about a problem that he encountered at a wedding; it turns out that you cannot seat Russians from different waves of emigration at the same table, lest a scandal should erupt.

Often, Russian communities in host countries are virtual, forming around Telegram chats, as well as professional identity (“IT workers”) and volunteer assistance. In other cases, what brings them together are the stage, art spaces and creative projects.

Because Russians do not live compactly in a single place, artist groups in exile are forced to drop any dreams of having their own venue and performing on the main stage and “Uberize” their contact with the audience. “You need theater? We will come to you.”

The latest wave of Russian emigration is sometimes compared with the White exodus after the Bolshevik Revolution, and it is expected to bring no less benefit to the host countries than those who left a century ago.

Back then, for example, Serbia emerged as a major beneficiary, with architects, doctors and other specialists from Russia flocking there. Today, Montenegro and Armenia have received significant economic benefits from the Russian IT sector. France and the UK issue talent visas to Russians, still remembering the cultural influence of those like Mikhail (“Michael”) Chekhov and Nikita Balieff, among many others.

The high expectations are partially justified: Russian emigrants contribute to scientific research in host countries, as well as such areas as evidence-based medicine, the IT sector and the creative industry. New theaters have emerged abroad, such as The Chaika, which in its first season put on 38 performances in Lisbon, Paris and Luxembourg (this author helped organize the tour in Luxembourg).

This troupe, like their predecessors a century ago, preserves Russian culture — that part of it that first, the Soviet government tried to ban and now independent Russia is trying to “cancel.”[GV: Meaning people who oppose the government but have a lot to contribute]

Such Russian-speaking cultural communities are being supported not only by emigrants from earlier waves, patrons of the arts, charitable foundations and local governments but also by highly educated professionals who have recently left Russia.
One of my interviewees in Armenia told me that he and his colleagues had created an artist collective whose business idea was piano, vocal and painting lessons. When asked about the target audience, he said they were counting on IT specialists and their families, who, having left the familiar educational and cultural milieu of Russian big cities (“millioniki”), are searching for a replacement in their new places of residence.

New social circles often form around artists in exile, offering emigrants a chance to connect with like-minded people and escape loneliness, anxiety and fear. They attract those who define themselves not only as Russians but also as “people with a common destiny.”

Those artists who, though rejecting the official ideology of modern Russia, have decided not to emigrate are helping their antiwar and antiregime compatriots inside the country to survive these hard times: people unite around “their” musicians and artists at private art venues and play readings, while also following the creative projects of Russians who left.

Artists who find themselves outside of Russia are not always able to put aside fear and feel free. The official Russian press often writes about them in offensive, threatening language.

Most Russians of the latest emigration wave left with only their “internal” Russian documents — without passports of other countries, a financial cushion or an idea of where they would work (except for IT specialists, many of whom were relocated abroad by their employers). Art workers are no exception.

Typically, emigrants have relatives and property back in Russia, which makes them vulnerable to the authorities.

In addition, the policies of host countries can change unpredictably, forcing Russians to move out (for example, Turkey has been clamping down on immigration). My interviewees have lived in an average of three to four countries in the last two and a half years.

It is impossible to be sure that you will not suddenly find yourself without a valid residence permit or access to money (for example, foreign banks have refused to service clients from Russia for fear of secondary sanctions). If you fail to find a stable job abroad, you will have to return to Russia. The same is true if your “internal” passport expires, as you can only get a new one in Russia — Russian embassies issue only “foreign” passports.

And the hardest choice of all: a relative or friend falls ill, and you need to go back, but you have already written a lot online condemning the regime and the war.

Against this backdrop, artists find themselves in a particularly precarious situation, especially if they are not stars or part of famous troupes, like the singers Zemfira and Monetochka, director Kirill Serebryannikov or comedian Viktor Shenderovich.

Russian emigrants in general and their host countries expect artists to take a bold and public stand against the war, but lesser-known artists and new artist collectives are racked by insecurity: they face the task not only of reaching their artistic potential but also of just surviving each day, meaning obtaining legal status in their host country. Meanwhile, it usually takes at least five years to obtain citizenship of another country, only after which exiled Russians feel secure and free from dependence on Russia.

Despite all these challenges, it is contemporary Russian art in exile that is becoming the public face of the Russia that is banned in its homeland, persecuted by the Russian authorities and reviled by Kremlin propagandists. Art in exile reminds the world that — like any other country — Russia is multifaceted, and even in the most difficult situations, there are people with whom dialogue is possible.

Written by Russia Post

Originally published on Global Voices

Photo featuring the term ‘hate speech’ in Albanian, generated with artificial intelligence in Canva by the Portalb.mk team. Used with permission.

This article by Despina Kovachevska was originally published by Meta.mk. An edited version is republished here under a content-sharing agreement between Global Voices and Metamorphosis Foundation. 

The deputy prime minister for good governance policies of North Macedonia, Arben Fetai, announced on his Facebook profile that he received a death threat on his official email on November 8, 2024. In less than half a day, media outlets reported on his status along with verbatim hate speech quotes in the headlines of their articles, writes Portalb.mk.

This is not the first time the media has carelessly published politicians’ statements without critically analyzing them, using the situation to generate sensationalism and boost their viewership. Such journalism has numerous harmful consequences, and in this case, it has only amplified and spread the hateful message promoting killing of members of an ethnic group throughout the media.

The news was first published on Alsat quoting the entire threatening message in the article’s title, without providing any context or critical view of the event.

Screenshot of media article containing direct quote of hate speech in the headline: “BULLET IN THE HEAD FOR YOU SHIPO FETAI” / Deputy PM Arben Fetai's life threats.”

Anti-Albanian hate speech often uses the term “shiptar” or variants, like “shipo,” which is based on debasement for the Albanian term for Albanian, “shqiptar.” It is considered derogatory in a similar manner to the N-word in the US.

On the media aggregator Time.mk, one can see that out of several articles that report on the event, half of them contain the same threatening message in the title and thus fuel hate speech even more, especially in the comments below the news.

Although most media outlets do this to get clicks, this practice contributes to hate messages becoming dominant in the media sphere, increasing the risk of supporting negative and dangerous tendencies in society.

Hate speech is an increasingly common phenomenon on the internet, especially in comments on social media. Media outlets, instead of critically reporting on this phenomenon, are becoming the main spreaders of such messages.

This is the second instance of hate speech within one week conveying the same message, this time scrawled on the wall of a building in front of the Constitutional Court of North Macedonia in Skopje. Although the graffiti was removed by November 1, after the Portalb.mk team alerted the Ministry of Internal Affairs, the situation became much more complicated online.

Hate speech graffiti in Skopje, North Macedonia, with the text ‘DEAD SHIPTAR!!!’ painted across the entrance of the Constitutional Court of the Republic of North Macedonia. Photo by Portalb.mk, used with permission.

While the swift response from institutions is a positive example of taking action against the spread of hate in physical spaces, the lack of regulation in the digital realm remains a significant issue.

In the online realm, aggressive and harmful expressions of hatred and misinformation often remain unpunished for extended periods, with mechanisms for swift removal being notably inadequate. What is lacking are concrete and effective strategies to monitor and eliminate harmful content on the internet. While laws and regulations, such as the Digital Services Act, can help manage this area, they also require active participation from social media platforms and society as a whole in the battle against hate and misinformation online.

The media plays a key role in polarizing societies

Frequently repeating the same message can have negative effects, particularly in media coverage during emotionally charged and politically divided times. When society is polarized, the media are often compelled to take sides or favor one narrative over another, which can further entrench preexisting divisions.

In such conditions, the media should take responsibility for balancing narratives and work to reduce divisions by focusing on constructive dialogue, fact-checking and objective reporting. It is also important to develop mechanisms that will protect the media from political or economic influence and encourage journalists to commit to ethical reporting.

The media are not merely messengers of information; they serve as interpreters and curators, selecting and framing content to help audiences make sense of complex issues.

The media landscape in the Western Balkans is highly polarized, with close ties between media ownership and political elites fostering an environment where investigative journalism is rare, and self-censorship is pervasive. These dynamics significantly undermine the media's role as a democratic watchdog, limiting its capacity to hold power accountable and promote informed public discourse. Instead of challenging entrenched power structures, many media outlets serve as tools for political propaganda or profit-driven sensationalism.

No meaningful response to hate speech

Hate speech, both online and in public spaces, remains a pressing issue in the region. Despite the existence of legislation criminalizing hate speech, institutional responses are often inadequate. Enforcement is inconsistent, selective, or entirely absent, which emboldens perpetrators and allows harmful rhetoric to permeate public discourse unchecked.

In our experience, despite reporting multiple instances of cybercrimes involving hate speech, we have received no meaningful response or action from relevant institutions. This lack of accountability not only undermines trust in the system but also enables hate speech to flourish, further polarizing society and marginalizing vulnerable groups.

Hate speech coming from the media has a major impact on everyday life, as the media not only shapes public opinion and attitudes but also influences social values, policies, and identities. When the media spreads hate speech or reinforces divisions, it can have serious consequences.

Such speech is harmful to society and can manifest itself in different ways, from direct insults and discrimination to less visible forms of hatred, such as microaggressions and stereotyping. It can often have a destructive effect on individuals, communities, and the whole of society.

Written by Metamorphosis Foundation

Originally published on Global Voices

Sara Qashghai, photographed with one of her intricate Pateh pieces, 2024. Photo courtesy of the artist.

Sara Soleimani Ghashghai’s work with Pateh, a traditional Iranian needlework art, offers a fresh and contemporary interpretation of a centuries-old craft. Pateh, distinct to the city of Kerman in southeastern Iran, is a form of embroidery where wool, silk, and sometimes gold threads stitch intricate designs, often of flowers, birds, and vibrant patterns. 

Yet, through her mastery of seven distinct sewing techniques, Qashghai transcends traditional motifs, weaving not just images but complex narratives that convey emotions and stories with remarkable depth. By pushing the boundaries of this ancient art form, Sara elevates Pateh into a medium for sophisticated storytelling, communicating her feelings, reflections, and powerful social messages in a way that feels both intimate and universally resonant.

This art dates back centuries and has roots in the Persian Safavid era, with the earliest known examples from 1868. It has long been a way for the people of Kerman to bring the colors of nature into their homes, compensating for the lack of greenery in the arid desert landscape.

Sara Qashghai, ‘Say Her Name,’ 2023. Pateh Douzi on fabric. 80 x 100 cm (31.5 x 39.4 in). Photo courtesy of the artist.

Qashghai’s journey into Pateh began after studying historical preservation and fine arts. She completed her bachelor’s in historic preservation and pursued her higher education in painting. Qashghai worked as a restorer of antique wooden objects for over a decade, but eight years ago, she shifted her focus to Pateh. Her work gained recognition when the Aran Gallery in Tehran began showcasing her pieces. Since then, she has exhibited widely, including in prestigious Los Angeles and San Diego galleries. Her work is featured at the Advocartsy Gallery in Los Angeles and the Mingei Museum in San Diego. Her exhibitions abroad highlight her commitment to elevating Pateh on the global art stage while staying true to its cultural roots.

Sara Qashghai, ‘Memories,’ 2023. Pateh Douzi on fabric. 55.5 x 116.5 cm (21.9 x 45.9 in). Photo courtesy of the artist.

In an interview with Global Voices, Qashghai discusses her unique artistic journey, which blends creativity with cultural preservation.

Excerpts from the interview follow:

Sara Qashghai, ‘Humans and Anthropoids in a Dance of Liberty,’ 2023. Pateh Douzi on fabric. Size: 128 x 65 cm (50.4 x 25.6 in). Photo courtesy of the artist.

Sara Qashghai (SQ): My works evolved from handicrafts to art through my unique approach to technique based on two main factors. First, while this craft once earned recognition in global museums, rising material costs and mass production led to diminished quality with repetitive designs. I focus on using high-quality materials and creative techniques. Second, Iranian women, particularly nomadic ones, have historically used wool to create beauty in everyday life — through carpets, kilims, Gabbeh and Pateh.

Sara Qashghai, ‘Farewell,’ 2023. Pateh Douzi on fabric. 50 x 110 cm (19.7 x 43.3 in). Photo courtesy of the artist.

Through the help of my artisans, I express emotions, thoughts, hopes, and dreams using thread. The threads reflect the mood of the piece — soft and close together to convey calm or spread apart, rough and expressive to show anger or frustration. Each stitch and color choice has its own meaning. In the past, I directed all stitching techniques, but now, the emotions of my artisans — who have experienced violence and injustice — naturally influence the work, creating a powerful collaboration.

For example, in my piece on Mahsa Amini, the harsh stitches and colors conveyed a deep sense of bitterness and violence. The threads, sometimes harsh like a noose or delicate like flower petals, help me tell my story. Technique and theme are equally important. In “Niloofar in the Swamp,” I portray the Iranian woman as a resilient water lily growing in harsh conditions. The threads can symbolize different elements —war, peace, or even angels — ultimately conveying my hope for peace and victory.

Sara Qashghai, ‘Till You Are Unaware of Body and Soul, How Can You Know the Beloved’s Heart,’ inspired by The Conference of the Birds by Attar, 2024. Pateh Douzi on Wool. 200 x 100 cm (78.7 x 39.4 in). Photo courtesy of the artist.

SQ: I don’t consciously choose the themes; I am deeply influenced by events, memories, and experiences around me, as well as how society and people respond to these changes. I believe an artist cannot be untouched by social transformations. Therefore, the themes of my work are inspired by my feelings and the events around me.

OM: How does collaboration with local artists and showcasing your work globally impact the revival of these arts?

SQ: Unfortunately, due to economic challenges and high production costs, Kerman Pateh and materials are experiencing a noticeable decline, leading artisans to replicate previous designs. When artists like myself enter the scene, focusing on material selection, injecting financial support, and applying creativity, they significantly revitalize the themes and techniques, contributing to the resurgence of this art form.

 Sara Qashghai, ‘Mothers and Children of the Middle East,’ 2023. Pateh Douzi on fabric. Size: 182 x 67 cm (71.5 x 26.4 in). Photo courtesy of the artist.

SQ: My process typically begins with an idea reflecting my concerns and the issues facing my community at that time. I collaborate with local artisans, making it a collective, feminine effort. Initially, I would paint the design on paper and transfer it to fabric. Now, I draw directly on the fabric, sometimes sketching multiple ideas and combining them spontaneously. Half of the design is improvised for some works, and I always create color sketches to guide my thread selections before adding intuitive stitches.

OM: What is the perception of your work in Iran, and are there other artists using similar techniques for their artistic expression? How does it differ from your experience abroad?

Sara: I can confidently say that no one in Iran has woven their imagination with Kerman Pateh as I have. In Kerman, this technique is typically viewed as a handicraft with designs that have undergone minimal changes for nearly a century. I have not seen anyone else use this technique since my work. However, I have encountered some pieces in museums near San Diego that employed sewing similar to mine. Still, they did not match the diversity of Kerman Pateh, which features seven distinct and fascinating stitching techniques — something even specialists in American museums have noted.

Sara Qashghai, ‘Astonished, She Said, “The Army of Iran Has Come,”‘ Inspired by ‘Women in Shahnameh‘ by Ferdowsi, 2024. Pateh Douzi on Wool. Size: 300 x 100 cm (118.1 x 39.4 in). Photo courtesy of the artist.

OM: To what extent can you freely express your ideas and balance between conveying a message and artistic expression, ensuring your work doesn’t become merely propagandistic?

SQ: When I create and begin sketching, I become so immersed in the narrative that I simply draw whatever comes to my mind and heart, influenced by my emotions and experiences. I do not think about it becoming propagandistic; if it happens, it’s entirely unintentional. I believe that even if it were to occur, there would be an authenticity that transcends mere slogans.

Sara Qashghai, ‘Memories,’ 2023. Pateh Douzi on fabric. 55.5 x 116.5 cm (21.9 x 45.9 in). Photo courtesy of the artist.

OM: Who are some artists within and outside Iran that inspire your work?

SQ: In some pieces, I have been heavily influenced by poets and artists from Iran, particularly the themes in the works of classical Iranian poets. For instance, images from “Shahnameh” by Ferdowsi, “The Conference of the Birds” by Attar, and “Kelileh o Demneh” have had a profound impact on me. Regarding Western artists, I draw inspiration from Cézanne, Matisse, and Degas, whose works I adore. Of course, there are many others, as I love exploring galleries and museums and have a strong visual memory.

Sara Qashghai, ‘Wondering in the Land and See,’ 2024. Pateh Douzi on Wool. 200 x 100 cm (78.7 x 39.4 in). Photo courtesy of the artist.

Written by Omid Memarian

Originally published on Global Voices

Feature image via Canva Pro.

This post, written by Global Voices contributor Emma Lewis, was originally published at The Breadfruit Collective as part of a Caribbean campaign to explain the regional Escazú Agreement and its importance for environmental defenders. An edited version appears below with permission.

“Sorry, your request is denied.”

“This is a business agreement, and therefore confidential.”

“We will have to look at your request and get back to you, but …”

Paradoxically, in this so-called “age of information,” facts, data, even a timeline of events, are not as easy to find as one might expect. Documents that should be available to the public and online are often shrouded in mystery. Organisations, institutions, and individuals may feel the urge to keep information close to their chest, sometimes without any real justification for doing so. There is a perception of a general lack of concern, in both public and private sectors, about making information readily available. “Why do you need to know?” they may ask. “What business is it of yours?” And red tape – bureaucracy – gets in the way.

One could go so far as to say that a culture of secrecy lingers among post-colonial countries in the Caribbean. The Official Secrets Act remains on the books in a number of Caribbean countries, including The Bahamas, Barbados, Jamaica, and others. This is despite calls from civil society organisations and comments from political leaders over the years that this outdated law should be repealed.

As environmental defenders in the region face a range of challenges, there is an urgent need to highlight this information dilemma. This is where the Escazú Agreement — the first regional environmental treaty in Latin America and the Caribbean — comes in.

The agreement (officially called the Regional Agreement on Access to Information, Public Participation and Justice in Environmental Matters in Latin America and the Caribbean) was adopted in Escazú, Costa Rica, on March 4, 2018. It represents a significant milestone in ensuring the protection of environmental rights and the safety of environmental defenders. Moreover, it is the only binding agreement stemming from the United Nations Conference on Sustainable Development (Rio+20), the first regional environmental agreement of Latin America and the Caribbean, and the first in the world containing specific provisions on environmental human rights defenders.

Speaking with Dr. Theresa Rodriguez-Moodie, Chief Executive Officer at the Jamaica Environment Trust (JET), she noted, “Access to information is essential for environmental defenders, enabling us to speak out and participate in environmental decisions which affect our lives and livelihoods.” As one of the key pillars of the Escazú Agreement, access to information is closely linked to its other key goals: public participation and justice. As a foundational principle of Escazú, it empowers the public to be enlightened on important matters affecting their lives, and ensures environmental justice. Without the relevant information, those two pillars would fall down.

The public needs to know more about Escazú for the simple reason that this agreement is not just another environmental protection contract. It is about people — the protectors of the environment — and it deals with, among other things, how they receive and share information on environmental concerns and the need to protect the protectors, which is critical, especially in Latin America, where lives are often at risk.

A stubborn refusal to provide information or even the subtle, complex ways in which it can be made difficult to obtain, can stop environmental defenders in their tracks. How can they move forward when they cannot see the full picture? Lack of transparency not only hampers their work; it also impedes any kind of meaningful discourse with stakeholders, institutions and individuals that environmental campaigners might wish to engage.

As a result, misunderstandings creep in. Communication falters. Rumours spread. And then, in come those evil twins: misinformation (meaning false information spread unintentionally) and disinformation (meaning wrong information, deliberately spread by someone with ill intent). I am sure we are familiar with these two, especially on social media. We already know that distortion of facts and information can cause tremendous harm in society; it can certainly affect environmental defenders in many ways, heightening prejudice and misrepresentation of their important work.

So, what is the answer? Well-crafted legislation is always a good first step. Not all countries in the region have it, but some are currently looking at it, so the Caribbean is making some progress in this respect. In the case of Jamaica, however, Dr. Rodriguez-Moodie believes there is a need for a closer look at the current Access to Information Act, which she says “is in need of review and revision,” making it “more important than ever to ensure this right supports transparency and effective advocacy.”

In a separate interview, human rights advocate Susan Goffe stressed, “Fundamental to the whole Access to Information (ATI) system is that the information held by the government belongs to the people. There is so much of it that should be routinely and proactively published, posted, and released, doing away with the need to make ATI requests for such information, for example, in the public health sector.” As such, Goffe considers the ATI Act of 2002 to be “one of the most important pieces of legislation passed in Jamaica in the past quarter century…with all its flaws and the problems with implementation.”

The Jamaican legislation is currently under review following a 2011 report by a parliamentary committee, but it is taking a long time, and Goffe has concerns that it should not be weakened in any way. “One of the longstanding problems,” she explains, “has been the length of time it often takes to get responses and actual information. Some agencies and ministries have a good record, and others are notoriously poor in their response. The response needs to be uniformly good across the government.”

As infrastructural developments, especially on our Caribbean islands’ fragile coastlines, continue apace, access to information is a considerable challenge when it involves private sector developers. During the “Save Goat Islands” campaign in Jamaica, led by JET and supported by many local and international environmental organisations, there was a dearth of information available from both government and the proposed developers, China Harbour Engineering Corporation, as related documents were a private “business agreement.”

In Grenada, environmental defenders have come up against major challenges; in October, the Coral Cove group won a court case, challenging the Planning & Development Authority’s decision to deny public access to planning application information, including the application plans and Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA) reports. In the case of the high-rise Pinnacle development in Montego Bay, situated on the edge of a protected wetlands area, no EIA was done at all, and it is going ahead, regardless.

So, there are issues with existing legislation. Quite frequently, environmental defenders are forced to take legal action, both costly and time-consuming, as a last resort. There is the strangling bureaucracy that hampers environmental defenders’ quest for information. However, there is also this overarching and urgent need: in this information age, the Caribbean needs to move from a culture of secrecy to one of openness and transparency.

In other words, we need to step from the shadows into the light. The Escazú Agreement, which entered into force on April 22, 2021, should be an important tool in making this process, slow as it may be, a reality. Out of 24 regional countries that have signed, only three Caribbean countries have not yet ratified it: the Dominican Republic, Haiti, and Jamaica. These countries should recognise that it is in their best interest, and that of their people, to do so. As Indian activist Aruna Roy says: “The right to know is the right to live.”

Written by Emma Lewis

Originally published on Global Voices

‘A Feral Commons’ is a Global Co-Commission public art project spearheaded by the Global Cultural Districts Network (GCDN) and led by Dubai-based Alserkal Advisory. Joint project partners are Kingston Creative in Kingston, Jamaica and Victoria Yards in Johannesburg, South Africa. The project is supported by Urban Art Projects, who are implementing tools to gauge the carbon footprint of the climate change art park project in Kingston. Photo by DenniVisuals, courtesy Kingston Creative, used with permission.

By Isis Semaj-Hall, PhD

As a Jamaican writer-scholar, I am inclined to begin a discussion of Chain of Love: Rice and Peas Bush in Lower South Camp (2024), an ecological public artwork by visual artist Camille Chedda when and where Jamaican theorist Sylvia Wynter begins 530 years ago, in May of 1494 when the Tainos of Yamaye discovered Columbus and his men offshore in strange cloud-tipped canoes.

This land’s first people could never have imagined the imposition and exploitation that was to come. They could not have anticipated the planting of flags — first Spanish, then British; nor could they have foreseen diasporas of people forced from Africa and lured from Asia. The fruits, flowers, and fronds stowed on European-commissioned Jamaica-bound ships from Africa and Asia, all for the sake of feeding colonial husbandry, could not have been predicted as the Tainos gazed out on the not-yet-warmer and not-yet-polluted waters of their island home that was not-yet-losing landmass under climate change’s sea-level rise.

Visual artist Camille Chedda looks through the vent blocks that form part of her installation located at the Climate Change Art Park in Parade Gardens, Mannings Park. Photo by DenniVisuals, courtesy Kingston Creative, used with permission.

Why examine a 21st-century art installation through a 15th-century perspective? I begin here because centuries of abuse, exploitation, and neglect continue to impact us and our environment today. But through new and meaningful partnerships, there is a way for us to survive and bloom anew. Through the arts and culture nonprofit organisation Kingston Creative’s participation in the Global Co-commission, an international initiative foregrounding subaltern community knowledge, contextualising the global climate crisis, and driving collective action in public art in urban spaces, Chedda’s Chain of Love installation can plant seeds of community-building possibilities.

The title and theme of the Global Co-commission is A Feral Commons, which refers to the co-dependences and collaborations between humans, plants, animals, and water. What history does the word “feral” hold for a postcolonial place like Jamaica? For many, it recalls those Africans who were freed and who freed themselves to the hinterlands of this island. The Spanish called them “cimarrónes” because these formerly enslaved people were deemed “wild” and feral for stealing off to live free in the island’s densely forested, mountainous, bio-diverse, and colonially inaccessible interior. But Jamaica’s cimarrónes, later anglicized as Maroons, survived because of their knowledge of their environment and their ability to coexist with nature.

I begin with this historical grounding because today, in the legacy of colonialism, plantation devastation, industrial, technological and digital revolutions, and a worsening climate crisis that will unevenly impact small island states like Jamaica, we, like the Tainos, are facing the possibility of annihilation. Just as it was for the Maroons in the 16th century, today, our future as Kingstonians depends on our ability to work with nature. Our chances of climate survival in this urban space depend on the actions we take now to shift away from the abuse of nature and towards building a respectful and reciprocal relationship with our natural environment.

Supporters of the initiative in front of the signage that proudly identifies the Climate Change Art Park in Parade Gardens, Mannings Park. Photo by DenniVisuals, courtesy Kingston Creative, used with permission.

In 2015, Kingston became a UNESCO-designated creative city of music. Decades before, the world came to know Downtown Kingston through the voice and lyrics of Bob Marley of The Wailers, who sang out in 1973 that this place is a hard and difficult “concrete jungle” where few can survive. In a way, Chedda extends the possibilities of the “concrete jungle” through her vision to reinvigorate a community park at Tower Street and South Camp Road. In partnership with Kingston Creative, residents of the community, and local government representatives, Chedda’s vision for an equitable and beautiful multi-species community space blossomed. But true to Kingston’s “concrete jungle” reality, the road to fruition was hard and hot.

This park’s community has seen an unfair share of violence. Meetings with residents were sometimes difficult as people had concerns for their safety. The park needed repairs that could only be completed by elected officials, so when local elections were held during the park's rehabilitation, the change in representation meant unavoidable delays. Still committed to the community and the project, Chedda persisted and forged relationships with the men, women, and children she met in and around the park. She came to know residents like the community gardener Mr. Peary, the cookshop-keeper Miss Madge, and the well-respected and well-loved Mas Joe (Joseph Manning).

Chedda's design of a metal arch above a cement form offers the wild Rice and Peas bush a path to climb. Photo by DenniVisuals, courtesy Kingston Creative, used with permission.

For many in the community, Mas Joe was synonymous with the park. Chedda learned that he planned the park decades ago, and he installed the ironwork that borders the space. On any given day, he could be found there with a warm smile and a gentle spirit. So, when Mas Joe passed away suddenly and unexpectedly on Easter Weekend 2024, during the planning and installation process for Chain of Love, sadness swept over everyone in the space and people working on the project. With this heavy loss, Chedda’s artistic vision had a chance to prove its restorative power.

Even before the project was complete, it provided a space of solace and comfort. Her installation of a metal-arch-topped cement structure was designed to give the wild Rice and Peas bush (Antigonon leptopus) a way to climb overhead. It also functions as shaded seating for park-goers to look at photographs of people in the community who worked together to create this “feral commons.” Under the metal-meets-plant archway, the cement base blocks frame what are now deeply sentimental images of Mas Joe’s last days. Because of his role in the park’s original development, Chedda planned to include his likeness in a mural panel, but with his passing, her painting of him evolved to honour his legacy in the community. Sitting in or walking through the commons, the mural depicting Mas Joe’s warm eyes and smiling face can be seen and felt.

The Rice and Peas peek through the concrete blocks at the Climate Change Art Park in Kingston. Photo by DenniVisuals, courtesy Kingston Creative, used with permission.

Alongside Mas Joe, Miss Madge’s cookshop is also featured in one of the many murals painted by Chedda and a group of volunteer artists from the community. Large images of residents’ dogs, cats, birds, and a very large rooster are brightly painted on the commons’ back wall. Depictions of children and adults resting on blankets and benches invite passersby to do the same.

Connecting the mural’s panels are paintings of the pink-flowering vines of the Rice and Peas bush. As a common fast-growing plant on the island, the Rice and Peas bush had taken over this downtown park during its years of disuse. Pretty but not ornamental, Jamaican gardeners tend not to invite Rice and Peas bushes into their botanical spaces. But this feral plant has both nutritional value (the edible seeds are used as a substitute for making the eponymously named dish Rice and Peas) and medicinal value (the leaves are brewed for tea to relieve cold symptoms and menstrual cramps).

Rather than remove the bush and the ecosystem it supports (bees, in particular), Chedda left much of it untouched. While the northern area has been de-bushed to accommodate people and an herb garden, the commons’ southern area remains fully feral. The Hope Royal Botanic Gardens and the Forestry Department donated mint and basil plants, as well as flowering bougainvillea and plumbago plants, to line the commons’ footpaths.

The park is now an area that the community enjoys. Photo by DenniVisuals, courtesy Kingston Creative, used with permission.

Where once there was a park that had fallen into wild disrepair, now thrives an active public space revived by art. In this community park, neighbours now gather in the shade to reflect, and when needed, they can nourish and heal themselves with medical and edible plants that flourish in the space. With climate concerns graduating to climate crisis realities, this ecological public artwork invites the community to return to the land, to their roots for sustenance.

In this “feral commons,” new seeds of climate resilience have been planted. Environmental caretaking now rests in the able hands of the community, just as it did long ago. To survive, people and plants must coexist in the concrete jungle that is Kingston.

Written by Guest Contributor

Originally published on Global Voices

Montage by Global Voices, featuring U.S. President-elect Trump (image from Flickr, under CC BY-SA 2.0) and the map of Latin America

On January 20, 2025, U.S. President Donald Trump will assume office again and face familiar but evolving challenges in Latin America. Two of these challenges stand out.

First, the decline of U.S. influence in the world. This tendency is confirmed in Latin America, where China and Russia are strengthening their foothold. China‘s investments in infrastructure, technology, and energy have surged across the region, making it the second most important commercial partner for many Latin American countries.  Meanwhile, Russia has expanded its military and diplomatic ties with several countries and continues to engage in disinformation campaigns, aiming to sway public opinion and political outcomes.

Second, since the onset of COVID-19, Latin American countries have experienced slow economic recovery, deepening political crises, a spike in violence linked to drug trafficking cartels, and worsening social inequalities. These challenges have led to a surge in migration. Migrants, numbering in the millions, have been making the journey to the U.S.-Mexico border in search of a better future. Data indicates that during President Biden's administration, an estimated eight million individuals, mainly from Latin American countries, have been apprehended at the U.S. border.

These were central issues during Trump’s campaign. Like his previous term, his speeches focused on prioritising U.S. interests abroad, a strong anti-immigration stance, and a promise to launch the largest deportation campaign in U.S. history. While in the past he accused Mexico of sending “rapists” and “criminals” to the U.S., he has now directed similar accusations toward El Salvador, expressing concerns about gang members entering the United States. Trump's relationship with Latin America has been marked by ups and downs; for this reason, governments in the region did not all react the same to his re-election.

Those with minimal concerns

For one group of Latin American governments, a victory by either Kamala Harris or Donald Trump would not have changed much. Countries like Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Costa Rica, the Dominican Republic, Panama, Paraguay, Peru, and Uruguay maintain good relations with the U.S., holding solid economic, diplomatic, and, in some cases, military cooperation. Apart from the Dominican Republic and Peru, the diasporas from these nations in the U.S. are relatively modest, and, therefore, they have fewer significant concerns that Trump's policies would directly impact their populations abroad. 

However, Trump’s re-election could bolster populist right-wing governments in Latin America. This might be the case in Brazil, the region's largest economy, where former president Jair Bolsonaro is also seeking a comeback. Bolsonaro and Trump shared overlapping presidencies from 2019 to 2021 and were close ideological allies. An important question arises: how might Trump's personal ties with Bolsonaro shape his interactions with Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, Brazil's current president? For his part, Lula has stated that relations with the Trump administration will remain respectful and not based on ideological biases.

Libertarian politician Javier Milei of Argentina may benefit the most. Milei has directed Argentina’s foreign policy toward closer alignment with Western and U.S. interests and shares a network of associates with Trump, including individuals like Elon Musk. Although Milei is known for bold statements, he remained silent during the U.S. campaign. After the election, however, a publicized call revealed Milei expressing admiration for Trump, saying, “You are my favorite President!”

Shortly after the re-election, Milei travelled to Mar-a-Lago to hold a meeting with Trump and Musk. During the meeting, Milei invited Trump to create an alliance of “free nations“ to preserve Western identity and promote commercial trade. Experts say that Milei seeks to stimulate private U.S. investment in Argentina's deteriorated economy and use U.S. influence over the International Monetary Fund (IMF) to secure new credits for his country.

Those with the most to lose

The return of President Trump to the White House is marked by a Republican majority in both the Senate and Congress and allies from Florida in key positions. Florida is home to substantial exiled communities from Cuba, Nicaragua, and Venezuela, who significantly influence political dynamics and often bring international issues from their home countries into local politics.

Having fled a communist regime, around three million Cubans — representing nearly 30 percent of Cuba's population — have settled predominantly in Florida and gained political influence. They distinguish themselves by being the only Hispanic community that has traditionally voted Republican. Many of them support increased sanctions on Cuba as a way to force the regime to transition to democracy. Over the years, several Republican politicians with Cuban origins have occupied important positions in local and national politics. This Cuban diaspora has been complemented by migrants from Nicaragua and Venezuela who are escaping similar situations.

For these dictatorships, this is the worst-case scenario. Caracas, Havana, and Managua could face increased pressure with Cuban-American Marco Rubio appointed as the next secretary of state. Similarly, Congressman Mike Waltz, nominated as national security advisor, has been one of the strongest critics of these regimes. Together with other Republican politicians from Florida — such as Senator Rick Scott, Congressmen Carlos Gimenez, Mario Diaz-Balart, Maria Elvira Salazar, Debbie Wasserman Schultz, and Texas Senator Ted Cruz — they are likely to gain more influence in shaping U.S. policies toward Latin American countries within the Republican Party.

Already, immediate consequences are becoming apparent. On Monday, November 18, 2024, members of Congress voted in favor of an act named BOLIVAR, aiming to sanction all individuals and entities with commercial ties to Nicolás Maduro’s regime in Venezuela. This law is reminiscent of the sanctions already in place against the Cuban government since the 1990s. Moreover, Cuba may remain on the list of countries that sponsor terrorism for longer, which limits its capacity to trade and receive financing from foreign partners.

Unpredictability prevails for many

Other countries like Bolivia, Colombia, Guatemala, Honduras, and Mexico face uncertain relations with the United States. Apart from Bolivia, these nations have some of the largest diasporas in the U.S., and their economies benefit greatly from remittances sent by migrants to families back home. If President Trump's proposed deportation plan is implemented, it could have serious economic and social implications for these countries.

Another source of uncertainty in bilateral relationships is the left-leaning stance of their governments. A Trump administration that openly dismisses socialist ideologies might find it challenging to work alongside these governments, and the feeling may be mutual. Signs of strained relations are beginning to appear. During the G-20 meeting held in Brazil, Colombian President Gustavo Petro reportedly told the media that Trump and Argentine politician Javier Milei represent a “new kind of fascism.“ More tensions might arise during Trump's second term.

El Salvador, a unique case

El Salvador is an interesting case. Salvadorans make up a large diaspora in the United States, particularly on the West Coast. During his campaign, Trump singled out this diaspora as a source of gang activity, prompting strong criticism of El Salvador and its president, Nayib Bukele.

What makes this dynamic particularly interesting is the similarity between the two leaders. Both Trump and Bukele share a populist style and unconventional political and social approaches. Despite Trump's criticisms, Bukele opted for a measured response, avoiding escalating tensions. Bukele was also the first world leader to congratulate Trump on his re-election.

In conclusion, for Latin American leaders, the next four years are likely to bring changes to U.S.-Latin American relations as governments attempt to adapt to, or survive, Trump.

Written by Michel N.

Originally published on Global Voices

Portrait of artist Alexis Peskine. The photo was taken by Thomas Babeau and used with permission.

Alexis Peskine is a visionary artist whose work seamlessly fuses materiality with metaphor, invoking both aesthetic grace and profound cultural resonance. Peskine's distinctive technique employs nails hammered into wooden surfaces, creating a tactile dialogue between destruction and construction.

His work, which often explores the complexities of Afro-descendant identity, embodies a raw yet harmonious intersection of spirituality, historical memory, and collective consciousness. Peskine’s art transcends the confines of portraiture, offering instead a visual language that speaks to the collective soul, capturing the nuances of strength, vulnerability, and transformation.

Born in 1979 in Paris into a family rich with cultural and artistic influence, Peskine’s identity is shaped by his Afro-Brazilian heritage and his French-Lithuanian roots. His father, an architect, and his grandfather, a carpenter from the island of Itaparica in the state of Bahia in Brazil, who raised Peskin's mother in Salvador, Bahia, instilled in him a deep appreciation for craftsmanship, while his mother’s Afro-Brazilian lineage connected him to the spiritual practices and cultural legacies of the African diaspora.

Raised in a household in Issy-les-Moulineaux, a city in southwestern Paris that revered art, Peskine was encouraged to develop his creative voice, drawing upon the stories and experiences of his lineage. His work is, therefore, not just an aesthetic pursuit but an ongoing exploration of justice, healing, and spiritual awakening.

Alexis Peskine and assistant at work gilding nail heads, October Gallery. Photo: Jonathan Greet.

Peskine’s formal education at Howard University and the Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA) in the United States laid the foundation for his technical expertise. Yet, his artistic vision has expanded far beyond the classroom. Currently based in Paris, he continues to evolve as a dynamic presence in the global art scene. His recent solo exhibition, “Forest Figures,” at October Gallery in London (October 3 – November 9, 2024), marked a significant moment in his career, showcasing a body of work that blends spiritual introspection with a radical exploration of form.

In an interview with Global Voices, Peskine delves into the evolution of his practice, the influence of his familial and cultural background, and the shifting focus of his recent work — from politically charged to spiritually resonant. Through his work, Peskine offers a bold visual language that seeks not only to represent but to heal, bridging the material and immaterial realms with every stroke of the nail.

Excerpts from the interview follow: 

Alexis Peskine, ‘Power,’ 2017. Moon gold leaf on nails, earth, coffee, water, and acrylic on wood. 195 x 250 cm (76 x 98 in). ©Alexis Peskine. Majed Halawi collection. Photo courtesy of the artist and October Gallery.

Omid Memarian (OM): Your work often incorporates nails hammered into wooden surfaces. Can you explain the technical process behind this technique and how you developed it over time?

Alexis Peskine (AP): I first considered using nails at Howard University. My mixed media teacher, Professor Sorrels Adewale, encouraged us to think about materials as metaphors. My work has always centered on the Afro-descendant experience, influenced by my upbringing in France, Afro-Brazilian heritage, and time spent in various Black American cities and 33 African countries.

Initially drawn to silkscreen printmaking, I experimented with dot patterns to explore the historical significance of our people. My interest in nails grew after learning about the Minkisi Nkondi power figures from the Congo, sculptures adorned with nails. This concept of destruction and creation resonated with me. When I arrived at the Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA), I was inspired by a wooden board left behind by the previous occupant and began using nails in 2004.

My process starts with a photograph, which I translate into dot patterns using computer software, mimicking the values of gray through dots of different sizes. I reverse the typical process by using a black silhouette with white dots to represent light areas, creating portraits illuminated by natural sunlight.

Alexis Peskine, ‘Moto wa Uhanini,’ 2020. Orange gold leaf, nails, Havana Ochre, curcuma, earth, and white hibiscus on lumber core wood, 122 x 122 cm (48 ×48 in). Photo courtesy of the artist.

OM: How has your childhood and upbringing influenced the themes and techniques you explore in your art today?

AP: My father is French and Lithuanian, while my mother is Afro-Brazilian. My grandfather, born in St. Petersburg, Russia, survived a concentration camp in France. These experiences, along with my Brazilian roots, shaped my values. I grew up in a family of artists and creators: my great-grandmother worked in a hardware store, my grandfather was a carpenter, and my father is an architect. My artistic inclinations were encouraged from a young age.

These influences instilled a deep sense of justice and fairness in me, which I channel into my work. It’s made me sensitive to the world around me, shaping how I express my thoughts through art.

Alexis Peskine, ‘Orí,’ 2024. Basil, Vessie green pigment, lacquer paint, lemon gold leaf, and nails on wood, 175 x 154 x 9 cm (69 × 60 in). (AP126) Photo courtesy of October Gallery.

OM: The first experience is beauty and harmony when we see your work. How does this complex concept resonate with your audiences?

AP: My goal is to represent both softness and strength, sensibility and abundance — qualities that reflect our people. The power in my work isn’t about domination; it’s a softer, more nuanced form — an aura rather than an aggressive force. This resonates with viewers because it reflects the spirit of those portrayed, not just portraits of individuals but representations of a collective soul. The subjects give their energy to the work, which connects with the viewers.

Alexis Peskine, ‘Akutjhe’ (‘Let it Burn’), 2020. Gold leaf, nails, clay, hibiscus and coffee on lumber core wood, 150 x 150 cm (59 1/10 × 59 1/10 in). Photo courtesy of the artist.

OM: You address complex social and political issues. How do you balance the technical precision of your pieces with the emotional and political messages they convey?

AP: My early work was intellectual and political, but in the last decade, my focus shifted toward art's spiritual and energetic aspects. While politics affects us all, I believe my recent work transcends immediate issues. It connects to something timeless, aiming for balance, harmony, and peace. What viewers feel from the work goes beyond politics and reaches into a deeper, more universal realm of experience.

Alexis Peskine, ‘Safara’ (‘Fire/Hell’), 2020, Gold leaf, nails, coffee and earth on lumber core wood 150 × 110 × 10 cm (59 1/10 × 43 3/10 × 3 9/10 in). Photo courtesy of October Gallery.

OM: Can you tell me which artists or movements have had the most significant influence on your work?

AP: My first influence was my family. My parents encouraged my artistic pursuits, and my aunt, who ran an industrial design company, gave me a strong design foundation. At Howard, I was introduced to figures like Aaron Douglas, Jacob Lawrence and writers like Toni Morrison. The Negritude movement deeply resonated with me. I realized I wasn’t alone in my journey as an Afro-descendant artist.

Artists like Basquiat, Kara Walker, Hank Willis Thomas, and my friends — Zak Ové, Fahamu Pécou, and Zana Masombuka — have influenced me. Conversations and exhibitions with them have shaped my perspective. My brothers, who are involved in music and film, have also been a major influence. We critique one another's work, pushing each other to grow.

OM: I think art schools in the U.S. tend to be a bit kinder when critiquing work.

AP: At Howard and MICA, critiques were harsh, even from classmates who didn’t always understand the references in my work. This helped me learn to accept feedback, discern its value, and understand that critique is part of growth as an artist.

Alexis Peskine, ‘Aljana Moons IV,’ 2015. Edition of 5 plus 1 artist's proof. Archival pigment print on Hahnemühle Photo Rag 308 gsm paper mounted on Dibond, 82.5 x 154 cm (32.4 × 60 in). (AP022). Photo courtesy of October Gallery.

OM: How do you decide what themes to depict in your work? If it’s a portrait, how do you choose the subject? What drives your choice of technique, or do you prefer sculpture?

AP: My studio is small, so I take a different approach from artists who work nonstop. Instead, I walk and let my spirit guide me, absorbing ideas and making mental notes. I create bodies of work rather than individual pieces, expressing my feelings at specific points in my life.

For example, “Forest Figures” came after my residency in rural Cameroon, where I faced a life-threatening experience. This event sparked a need for peace and healing. The work evolved from the more political “Fire Figures,” which reflected my feelings of revolt during the George Floyd protests, to the more spiritual “Forest Figures,” which explore healing and reconnection with nature.

Left: Alexis Peskine, ‘Kékéréké,’ 2024. White and black paint, archival varnish, 24 k, gold leaf and nails on wood, 150 x 110 cm (59 1/10 × 43 3/10 in). Right: ‘Séetal, ‘2024. White and black paint, archival varnish, 24 k gold leaf, and nails on wood, 150 × 110 cm (59 1/10 × 43 3/10 in). Photo courtesy of October Gallery.

OM: The art world has become complicated with art fairs, galleries, exhibitions, and money involved. What’s your advice to emerging artists looking to find their voice in the contemporary art world?

AP: Always look inward and pay attention to how you feel and what you want to express. Don’t hesitate to explore what you love and understand yourself. Early on, I wanted to develop my own visual language, and I admired artists who created distinct, resonating works.

Create with purity — don’t focus on commercial concerns while you’re making art. Once your work is done, find ways to make it visible. Social media today makes it easier than ever to share your art worldwide, reaching people who will connect with your expression.

Alexis Peskine in front of his artworks at October Gallery in London, 2022. Photo by Elisabeth Lalouschek, October Gallery’s art director.

While having a gallery is beneficial, as I learned through my experience with October Gallery, it's not the only way. When I started, I walked around with a portfolio, went to galleries and art fairs, and tried to get my work seen. Ultimately, gallery representation helps, but you can create your own path.

Success in art comes down to drive, curiosity, and a willingness to ask questions. Teachers don’t always need to be formally recognized. If you have a mentor, whether in school or outside, appreciate those who help you along the way.

Learning to talk about your work is essential — whether you're in school or not. Being able to articulate your vision is as important as the art itself. If you can’t do it, find someone who can write or talk about it for you.

Written by Omid Memarian

Originally published on Global Voices

Photo by Mykenzie Johnson on Unsplash. Used under an Unsplash license.

Editor's note: November 14th is the International Diabetes Day.  I have a daughter who has type one diabetes; it is an autoimmune condition that develops mostly in children and young adults and has almost no genetic explanation. My daughter was nine when she was diagnosed, and our lives were for a long time divided between before and after. But we live in Europe, where people living with diabetes receive a lot of free medical care from the state.

The following story, which was published in Russian by Holod Media and translated by Global Voices, is about a young woman who lives in Russia, where the state is providing practically no help — especially in the smaller, more rural towns. Global Voices is republishing the article, edited for length and clarity, as part of a content sharing agreement with Holod. 

In 2023, Russian authorities announced that they would intensify their fight against diabetes and allocated additional funds for this from the national budget. But in reality, many people outside the capital, Moscow, who are forced to spend money on managing their disease for life, are barely making ends meet. Alena, 23, is from Yelets and lives on the standard salary for her city, RUB 25,000 a month (USD 250). To make ends meet, she skimps on essential medical supplies, risking a diabetic coma. The free provisions given to diabetics by the state are insufficient. Here is Alena's story, told in her own words, about how she navigates life with diabetes in Russia.

Alena's story

Sometimes, I have the same nightmare: my last insulin pen breaks, and all the hospitals are closed. I have these anxious thoughts: what if my blood sugar drops and I don’t have test strips or insulin? I sit and think: what if I can’t work? If I don’t have any money, what will I do? What will I eat? How will I buy insulin?

I see ads saying, “Diabetes is no longer a disease! It’s a lifestyle.” My grandmother even called me, saying she’d read that diabetes is manageable with a healthy diet and insulin. I didn’t want to upset her, so I agreed, but I felt a burning indignation. People often say it’s easy to live with diabetes in Russia because everything’s supposedly “available.” They don’t want to believe that our prosperous state can’t provide basic medications for those with chronic illnesses.

When I was diagnosed with diabetes, I was 15. It’s been eight years now that I’ve been injecting myself with needles several times a day. Four or five times a day, I inject insulin into my stomach with a special pen. I also constantly prick my fingers with a lancet to get a drop of blood for a test strip to measure my blood sugar.

From an early age, doctors at the clinic taught me that although the needles for the syringe and for the test strips are single-use, you should reuse them several times to save money. I still do that now: I use the same needle for several days. The needles get dull and start to struggle to pierce the skin. My fingertips get hard and crusted over. My stomach develops lumps that prevent insulin from absorbing properly. The effect of the hormone makes many diabetics develop a protruding belly — I have one too, even though I’m generally thin. It didn’t happen because of the insulin itself but rather from the lumps that develop from the injections. I’ve accepted it — though I know many diabetics try to get rid of it with massages and creams — but I just try to choose clothes that don’t cling to my stomach.

Changing the needle with each injection is too expensive, both for me and for most people with low salaries. A pack of 100 pen needles costs RUB 1,500 (USD 15). A pack of 25 lancets for a glucometer costs RUB 350 (USD 3.5). And 150 test strips cost RUB 2,300 (USD 23).

Doctors recommend measuring blood sugar upon waking and before bed, before every meal, and two hours after eating. If you feel unwell from low blood sugar, you should measure it, then measure again after taking insulin or eating something sweet to see if the levels have balanced. Even if you don’t follow this fully, to live a normal life, you need to measure your blood sugar five to seven times a day.

This is necessary for stable blood sugar levels throughout the day — every day — for life. We eat different foods like ordinary people. We get sick, we experience stress that causes sugar spikes. So, it’s important to measure it often to understand what’s happening in our bodies, how the diabetes is progressing, and whether complications are imminent. The complications can be severe: damage to the eyes, kidneys, nerves, and joints, diabetic ulcers on the limbs, and more.

But I don’t have enough income to buy as many strips as I need to live normally. I buy as many as I need to survive.

Because of this, I often rely not on glucose readings but on how I feel, though even after years with diabetes, it’s hard to recognize when my blood sugar is dropping until it’s at a critical level. I feel okay, but then check and see my level is at two — almost pre-coma. I’ve had such episodes, and they take a long time to recover from. If you don’t measure your blood sugar regularly, like me, you risk death.

Though I try to control my diet, blood sugar, and exercise, I still have complications from diabetes. My leg nerves don’t work well, which I think is partly due to the lack of state support for diabetics. It’s so tiring to decide each time if I can use a test strip to check my sugar or if I need to save it for later.

Technically, needles for syringes, lancets, and test strips are supposed to be free. But I’ve never received needles or lancets from my clinic; only one pack of 50 test strips per month, enough to check my blood sugar once a day. The strips from the clinic are low-quality, so I switched to a European glucometer that I bought myself — my life is worth it. I keep thinking: now I’ll start earning more, and I’ll finally measure my sugar regularly!

I’m studying for a master’s in law and working freelance as a tutor. My income is inconsistent: in good months, I earn RUB 25,000 rubles (USD 250), the average for my region, where legal assistants make around the same and baristas even less. I’m from central Russia and incomes are a bit higher here than in more rural villages. There, salaries are as low as USD 12,000 rubles a month (USD 120). And there are diabetics there too.

In 2022, the Russian state changed its free insulin offerings, so I had to buy insulin on my own. I had been getting NovoRapid for years and was used to it, as each insulin acts differently. They switched to Fiasp, which worked well, but then they replaced it with a Russian insulin brand. I read reviews about it — people said it caused issues like numbness or had no effect at all, so I bought foreign insulin, spending RUB 4,000 a month (USD 40). Including needles and strips, my medical expenses totaled RUB 7,000 monthly (USD 70), about 28 percent of my monthly salary. In March 2024, Russia cut state purchases of Fiasp by 95 percent, and once the current supply runs out, the government will likely only provide the Russian equivalent to all diabetics.

The difference between big cities like Moscow and regions like mine in terms of state support for diabetics is huge. I see on social media that diabetics in cities can get imported test strips for free, while I buy them myself because my clinic doesn’t provide them. My parents even offered to get me registered in Moscow for better treatment, but why should I have to move to get quality care?

The constant expenses push many diabetics to move to big cities or work overtime just to afford the necessary treatments. For me, a luxury would be an insulin pump that delivers insulin automatically or a continuous glucose monitor that constantly measures blood sugar levels. These devices are expensive and not provided for free to adults with diabetes in Russia.

A good glucose monitor costs RUB 4,000 (USD 40), and in a month, it costs 8,000 (USD 80) rubles to maintain. A quality insulin pump costs around RUB 300,000 (USD 3,000), plus ongoing maintenance. I want a high standard of living and plan to have a child, which means I’ll need continuous glucose monitoring for nine months, costing about RUB 100,000 (USD 10,000). I’ll need to save up.

I don’t want to be dependent on anyone. When I tell my mom how poorly the state provides for diabetics, she says, “Your dad and I will help if needed.” But I tell her, “You won’t be able to help me my whole life.” I want the state to provide me with basic comfort.

My boyfriend, who works as a lawyer, recently offered to buy me that glucose monitor, but I said no; I don’t want to get used to nice things because it’ll be harder to give them up later. For me, it’s not about earning a lot or advancing in a career; jobs can be lost. What’s more important is achieving changes in government policy. That’s why I’m taking time to speak to a journalist, hoping it will draw attention to the issue.

Written by Daria Dergacheva

Originally published on Global Voices

Indigenous children in Tanzania using a laptop. Image by Kureng Workx, from Pexels (Free to use).

The tech giant Google announced that 15 more African languages would be added to Voice Search, Gboard talk-to-type, and Translate dictation on October 28. The languages included are Chichewa, Hausa, Igbo, Kikuyu, Oromo, Rundi, Shona, Somali, South Ndebele, Swati, Tigrinya, Twi, Tswana, Nigerian Pidgin, and Yoruba.  

This significant milestone will enable 300 million more Africans to interact with the web using their voices, yet it also sheds light on the massive amount of work needed to close the digital gap between Africa and the rest of the world. 

The African continent is the second most populous continent in the world, with a population of over 1.34 billion people. A study published by Statista in July 2024 showed that Africa is the most multilingual continent in the world, as there are about 2,158 living languages on the continent. While about 25 percent (520) of these languages are spoken in Nigeria, 277 and 214 languages are spoken in Cameroon and the Democratic Republic of Congo, respectively. The least linguistically diverse country in Africa is Seychelles, where only four languages are spoken.

Following the announcement, Alamazan Jak, a user from Busoga, Uganda, wrote the following comment in response to the announcement in Google's translation community:

Congratulations on the exciting announcement! Expanding dictation to 13 African languages is a significant milestone. Your dedication to inclusivity and diversity is truly commendable.

However, I couldn't help but notice that Lusoga, a vital language spoken in Eastern Uganda, is not among the listed languages. As a proud speaker of Lusoga, I eagerly await its inclusion.

Could you please share any plans or timelines for adding Lusoga to Google Translate's supported languages? Your consideration would mean a great deal to the Lusoga-speaking community.

Thank you for your tireless efforts in breaking language barriers. I look forward to your response. 

This comment shows that Lusoga and thousands of other African languages are still excluded, even as users are hungry for greater language representation. Lusoga (Soga) is a language spoken by over 3 million people in Uganda.

As artificial intelligence (AI) technologies continue to develop and gain traction around the world, they are being integrated into many tools to automate daily tasks, in many cases making people's lives and work easier. Although the adoption of AI tools is growing in Africa every day, many users cannot access them in their languages yet. If languages like Soga are not included in the development of these tools, hundreds of millions of Africans may not benefit from the limitless opportunities offered by AI. This exclusion will further exacerbate the technology gap between Africa and the rest of the world. 

The digital language barrier can impede the economic growth of many African countries by hindering speakers of Indigenous languages from accessing job opportunities and online markets. Excluding African Indigenous languages from the development of AI tools used in schools could negatively impact the education systems of many nations. Meanwhile, the use of AI in education across the continent remains as low as 12 percent.

Opportunities for language inclusion in Africa

Agriculture is the pillar of Africa’s economy. The agricultural sector is a major contributor to the GDP of many African countries. Over 43 percent of Africa’s economically active population eke out their living from farming in remote areas. However, many African smallholder farmers are facing challenges such as unpredictable weather, product insecurity, inadequate logistic infrastructure, limited access to formal financial services, limited access to digital marketplaces, economic downturns, illiteracy of many farmers, and more. The use of AI-powered digital technologies has proven effective in mitigating these challenges. However, the majority of these tools are not accessible in the farmers’ local languages.

Africa boasts many cultural heritage and diverse traditions. Language is the bedrock of these rich heritage and traditions. Languages serve as reservoirs of knowledge and traditions, but they are also the medium through which the cultural heritage of a group of people is preserved and passed from one generation to another.

Seeing the alarming rate at which languages are dying, the United Nations (UN) proclaimed a decade to protect endangered languages and preserve humanity’s common heritage in 2022. About 523 of the 3,000 dying and endangered languages that will become extinct in the world by the end of the 21st century are spoken in Africa. The exclusion of these vulnerable languages from the development of digital technologies will accelerate the threat posed by extinction. 

Many African entrepreneurs, developers, and researchers have risen to the occasion, implementing initiatives that integrate African languages into technologies. A good example is a startup in Nigeria, Awarri, working on creating Nigeria’s first multilingual Large Language Model. A Kenyan startup, Code Vast, is also using AI to provide fast healthcare guidance in local Kenyan languages like Swahili, Meru, Kikuyu, and Luo. Lelapa AI is developing machine learning tools that are specifically designed for African contexts. Another Nigerian Startup, Crop2Cash, created an automated phone system technology called FarmAdvice. The AI-powered device allows smallholder farmers to access real-time, personalized agricultural knowledge and extension services in their local languages by dialing a toll-free number on any type of device, 24/7. 

While all these efforts are ongoing to bridge this language gap, there is still a need to integrate more languages, especially those spoken in regions where there is no ongoing or little effort to bridge the digital divide. Tech giants such as Meta, Amazon, Uber, IBM, AWS and other organizations whose technologies are widely used in Africa need to get involved by also prioritizing the integration of minority African languages in their product development. There is a need for concerted efforts between local startups and government bodies to create local technologies in order to reach the areas that foreign companies do not cover. 

Written by Abdulrosheed Fadipe

Originally published on Global Voices

Nigeria's 2015 Presidential election voting in Abuja. Image by U.S. Embassy / Idika Onyukwu, from Flickr (CC BY-SA 2.0 DEED).

In Pakistan’s 2024 elections, while behind bars, former Prime Minister Imran Khan managed to reach over 250,000 viewers on YouTube through an Artificial Intelligence (AI)-generated video. His message, delivered via the internet, reached a massive audience despite his physical absence from the campaign trail. This striking use of AI highlighted the growing influence of digital tools in modern politics, demonstrating how, even under challenging circumstances, technology is reshaping the way politicians engage with voters.

As the “Year of Democracy” nears its end, several key elections have already been held, while others are still on the horizon. This supercharged election year has seen 72 countries — representing over half of the world’s population — head to the polls. Africa, in particular, has been a focal point, with 16 national elections, double the number from 2023. The widespread availability of AI tools like ChatGPT and AI-driven video and image generators has given political parties new ways to connect with voters, engage them, and shape public opinion. 

However, these technologies do more than provide new opportunities; they introduce complex challenges, particularly in combating misinformation and ensuring the ethical use of data. The question remains: Are these technologies truly benefiting democratic processes, or are they creating new obstacles that need to be addressed?

In an interview with the Global Investigative Journalist Network, Victoria Turk of The Rest of The World, an organization that tracks AI use in elections globally, highlighted this dual nature of AI. She noted:

…when people think about elections and generative AI, they think automatically about disinformation, misinformation, deep fakes, and intentionally misleading voters. We are seeing some of that, but there are also other creative uses of this technology. In some cases, we’re seeing political parties and campaigns using this tech to better reach voters, spread their campaign materials, and provide information.

Voter engagement in a digital world

The shift towards digital campaigning is undeniable. AI tools allow political parties to connect with their constituents more efficiently and effectively than ever before. In countries like India, with a registered electorate of 968 million, many candidates have used AI-powered avatars to engage with voters on an individual level. This hyper-personalized approach is believed to enhance candidates’ political appeal by showing voters that they are attuned to specific concerns.

In addition to personalized engagement, AI has also been instrumental in overcoming linguistic barriers in India’s diverse electorate. Prime Minister Narendra Modi, for instance, used the government’s AI-powered tool Bhashini to deliver speeches in Hindi that were translated in real-time into Tamil, Kannada, Bengali, Telugu, Odia, and Malayalam. While AI bots may struggle with dialects and are susceptible to inaccurate translations, they help candidates reach more voters by bridging language divides.

Ethical considerations and the digital divide

Despite its potential, the rise of AI in elections comes with ethical challenges, particularly concerning data privacy, misinformation, and equity. To combat AI-driven misinformation, the Indian government has taken proactive steps by issuing a deepfake and AI advisory. This advisory obligates platforms to clearly inform users that posting deepfakes can lead to criminal prosecution under the law, signaling a strong stance against AI misuse. This is a crucial measure in maintaining election integrity and ensuring that AI is used responsibly in the political arena.

Similarly, in Nigeria, concerns over the use of voter data in targeted campaigns have prompted calls for stricter regulations on how data is collected and used. The Nigeria Data Protection Act (NDPA) 2023 is designed to address these concerns, mandating high data protection standards for data controllers and processors. Political parties must ensure that AI is deployed in a manner that respects data privacy and complies with protection regulations, such as the European Union's General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR), to maintain voter trust.

Furthermore, the digital divide remains a significant obstacle in many regions. While AI has enhanced voter engagement in urban centers, rural voters often remain disconnected. Although mobile technology has made strides in bridging this gap, more must be done to ensure that every citizen has access to the information needed to participate fully in the democratic process.

Combating mis and disinformation with AI fact-checking

As misinformation and disinformation become an increasingly significant threat to democracy, AI is also playing a vital role in countering its spread. AI-powered fact-checking tools have been deployed by civil society groups and independent fact-checkers to combat this issue. 

One recent example is the 2023 Turkish elections, where deepfakes were used to discredit opposition leaders. AI-generated videos falsely linking political figures to criminal activities went viral, demonstrating both the risks and the potential of AI in combating disinformation. To mitigate such dangers, AI is being deployed to fact-check rapidly and ensure that voters are not misled by fabricated content. Platforms like Full Fact in the UK and Africa Check in South Africa use AI to scan political speeches, news stories, and social media posts for misinformation.

AI’s ability to scan and identify false information in real time could be a game changer in mitigating the negative impact of deepfakes and other forms of digital manipulation. However, it also requires constant vigilance and improvements.

AI and political polarization

AI algorithms on social media platforms, such as Facebook, X (formerly Twitter), and YouTube, have been shown to significantly influence political polarization. These algorithms are designed to maximize user engagement by curating content that aligns with users’ existing views, often reinforcing their beliefs and leading to echo chambers. This can increase partisan animosity, especially in highly polarized countries like the US and Brazil.

Research highlights that while social media platforms may not be the root cause of polarization, their design can exacerbate it. Studies have found that users exposed to content on these platforms are more likely to become entrenched in their views, leading to deeper political divides. For instance, these platforms use algorithms that promote content that elicits emotional responses, which often amplifies divisive and polarizing political messages.​

​Efforts to combat this issue, such as adjusting algorithms to promote diverse perspectives, are crucial. However, such initiatives are often short-lived due to fears of losing user engagement and profitability.

Blockchain and transparent voting systems

Beyond voter engagement and fact-checking, blockchain technology has emerged as a tool to ensure transparency in elections. While blockchain has often been associated with finance and cryptocurrency, its potential for securing the integrity of elections is now being tested. While Estonia has been a pioneer in adopting blockchain-based voting systems nationwide, Sierra Leone conducted a notable trial during its 2018 elections. A Swiss-based company, Agora, used blockchain technology to record votes in the Western Area Urban district as part of a proof-of-concept. This trial aimed to demonstrate how blockchain could securely and transparently log votes.

Although the Sierra Leone National Electoral Commission officially handled the results using traditional methods, the blockchain experiment showcased the potential for future elections to incorporate this technology for greater transparency. 

As these experiments demonstrate, blockchain could pave the way for more secure and transparent elections, though its adoption still faces hurdles in terms of scalability and widespread implementation.

A new era for democracy?

The “Year of Democracy” in 2024 highlights the transformative potential of AI and digital tools in fostering robust, transparent, and inclusive elections. Nations like Sierra Leone, India, and Estonia demonstrate that AI can significantly enhance democratic processes, but only if ethical and inclusive considerations are prioritized.

As these global elections unfold, the true test will lie in whether AI will enhance democratic values or, conversely, exacerbate existing challenges. The integrity of these elections and the responses to inevitable disputes will not only reveal the current state of democracy but also determine whether regions like Africa will emerge as beacons of effective elections and democratic resurgence or continue to face electoral setbacks.

Written by Cecilia Maundu

Originally published on Global Voices

Photo of Marlene Pasini in an illustration by Global Voices. Photo used with permission.

To talk about Marlene Pasini is to talk about a Mexican woman and all that that implies: colour, beauty, sensitivity, intensity, and culture.  

In fact, I imagine Marlene Pasini's feet to be like a beautiful map where all stories and all paths are drawn. She has eyes that reveal one of those souls who has seen everything without ever losing the capacity for wonder. 

Renaissance woman par excellence, Pasini has developed diverse interests to which she has dedicated her passion and intelligence. She is a communicologist, a writer, a poet, an editor, a visual artist, and a psychotherapist and coach in Transpersonal Education. If that wasn't enough, she has continued her studies, obtaining a Master's degree in Literature and a diploma in Renaissance History, Egyptology, and hieroglyphics. She is the author of eighteen books: poetry, novels, essays, articles, and books on personal and spiritual development.  

The publication of her most recent book called “Memorias de Aquí” (Memories of Here) is, as the author mentions, part of a series of poetry books that she has produced on the theme of her life and experience as a traveller, poet and artist. This text is a testimony to her commitment to the mystical and spiritual experience, in which she includes clear references to each of the places she has visited — places that have visited her at the same time. This relationship has left indelible marks on her memory, which she shares with us, in the most sublime way: through poetry. 

It is interesting how, at a certain point in life, it becomes necessary to leave a testimony of the path undertaken, and this reminiscence of experiences began with “Memorias Nómadas del Medio Oriente al Norte de África” (Nomadic Memoirs from the Middle East to North Africa). This is the first publication in this series, which was published in 2021 — in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic — and which was the result of the author's travels to the Holy Land, Tunisia, Morocco, and Egypt, with poems written over several years that were illustrated by some of the poet's own paintings. Later, in the year 2023, “Memorias de Andalucía” (Memories of Andalusia) was produced, and through brief, Japanese-style texts like haikus and tankas, the author immerses the reader in the experience of visiting Spain.

“Memorias de aquí” was published in August 2024. Its structure contains four autobiographical sections, but with clear reasons for their division. 

The first part is titled: De las memorias del alma (From the memories of the soul), and is made up of poems that allude to Pasini's memories, as well as her personal experiences, which give an account of an inner voice that reflects on life and the passing of time. In them, one can appreciate nostalgia, longing, dreams, the personal connection with nature and its presence in the journey that is life.

The word I would use to define this part of the work is melancholy, and as an example:

LLUVIA

Nada es silencio…

Aquí en esta ciudad

llega el verano

y una música de lluvia

empapa sus calles de asfalto

En el instante y su tiempo fugitivo

en la incertidumbre del más allá

donde la vida aletea

como negra mariposa

en el hueco del insomnio

donde los recuerdos se ovillan

en sombra enmudecida

desciendo despacio

en un largo sueño.

RAIN

Nothing is silent…

Here in this city

summer arrives

and a musical rain

soaks its asphalt streets

In the moment and it's fleeting time

in the uncertainty of the beyond

where life flutters

like a black butterfly

in the hollow of insomnia

where memories coil

in muted shadow

I descend slowly

into a lengthy dream.

It is from the journey through melancholy that we reach Caminos citadinos y Pueblos Mágicos de México (City Roads and Magical Towns of Mexico). In this chapter, the poet shares some of the cities and towns that she has visited throughout her life and that are somehow significant, not for their touristic qualities, but for their historic and ancestral nature, as a part of Pasini's “Mexicanness,” and for the strategic connection with her soul.

FLAMBOYANES

Rojo estallido

el follaje de los flamboyanes

una tarde de mayo

Una brizna suave del viento

corta erizadas alas 

de pájaros en vuelo

Incandescente sol

como una ofrenda

su luz contra pieles color moreno

Cuernavaca

ciudad de la eterna primavera

hondura de suspiros en sus haciendas

tardes de nostalgia

y el eco de los siglos.

FLAME TREES

Red burst

the foliage of the flame trees

an afternoon in May

A soft breeze of wind

cuts the ruffled wings

of birds in flight

Incandescent sun

like an offering

its light against dark skin

Cuernavaca

city of eternal spring

depth of sighs in its haciendas

afternoons of nostalgia

and the echo of the centuries.

Atavismos, is the word that gives its name to the third section, which represents a symbolism that resonates with the idea of Ancestry. It runs between mysticism and a reunion with the ancestral Mexican past.

MUJER INDÍGENA EN TEPOZTLÁN

Borda sueños de magia

con sus manos

en múltiples colores hila

toda una vida sobre su nívea tela

Con una sonrisa apenas perfilada en su boca

finge que no hay sufrimiento

ante este pueblo rodeado

por el gran cerro del Tepozteco

Su rostro moreno — arrugado

y trenzas de color azabache

están cenizos por las polvaredas

que dejan los caminos

tierra suelta

olvido

hambre

Envuelta en rebozo gris y coloridas enaguas

ha quedado en sus manos

olores de hierba y hongos

lo amarillo de la flor

recogidos al alba.

INDIGENOUS WOMAN IN TEPOZTLÁN

She embroiders dreams of magic

with her hands

in multi-colours she weaves

a whole life on her snowy fabric

with the trace of a smile on her mouth

she pretends there is no suffering

before this town surrounded

by the great Tepozteco mountain

Her dark face – wrinkled

and braids jet-black

are ashy from the dust-clouds

left by the roads

loose earth

forgetfulness

hunger

Wrapped in a grey shawl and colourful petticoats

on her hands remains

the smell of grass and mushrooms

the yellow of the flower

collected at dawn.

The last section of this work belongs to Sombras luminosas (Luminous shadows); poetic allusions to people, beings and characters that are not found in the physical world, but whose presence is still a reality through time.

Here is a small fragment of the poem ¿Qué lazos nos unen y desunen? (What ties unite and separate us?):

A mi padre

In memoriam

Materia en sustancia de luz eterna

Memoria

silencio

casa habitada en sueños

con una oración

levantada al cielo de la Gloria

formas diluyéndose en viento.

To my father

In memoriam

Matter in substance of eternal light

Memory

silence

house inhabited in dreams

with a prayer

raised to the heaven of Glory

forms dissolving into wind.

My recommendation is, of course, to enjoy the leap of faith that it takes to go along with the words of a writer who has decided to revel in this poetic work that clearly shows the ability to understand that geography and time are conventions, and that beauty lives in the untouchable space of every human being: the spirit and that intangible essence. 

Written by Paloma Cuevas Translated by Molly Furnival-Phillips · View original post [es]

Originally published on Global Voices

Photo from the Facebook page of Al Abireen Foundation for Migrant Assistance and Humanitarian Services – مؤسسة العابرين لمساعدة المهاجرين والخدمات الإنسانية. Used with permission.

A boat carrying 13 Egyptian migrants capsized on October 28, 2024, shortly after leaving Kambut, a village 60 kilometers east of Tobruk in eastern Libya which is commonly used as a departure point for migrants attempting to reach Europe. Of the 13 passengers, only one survived.

Three bodies have been recovered in the days following the incident: one on October 29th, another on November 3rd, and the third on November 7th. The latest recovered victim’s remains were heavily decomposed, and the body was taken to a morgue for further examination.

Egypt remains a significant source of Mediterranean migration flows, with over 11,000 Egyptians recorded arriving in Italy via Libya by sea in 2023 alone. Worsening economic conditions and limited legal pathways drive many Egyptians to make these dangerous journeys, risking their lives in the process.

On November 5th, the EU announced a EUR 20 million aid package through the European Peace Facility to help Egypt’s Armed Forces enhance national security and protect civilians in the “Western territories” — the very region where Egyptian migrants cross into Libya before attempting the Mediterranean journey.

Earlier this year, the European Union allocated a EUR 7.4 billion aid package to Egypt, with EUR 200 million specifically designated for migration management. Incidents like this one raise questions about the effective use of these funds to address root causes and migrant safety.

Community efforts in Libya

The central Mediterranean, particularly the route by way of North Africa, continues to be the deadliest migration route globally, with 61 percent of all migrant deaths in 2023 occurring in the region. For countless migrants taking this route, the risks are intensified by inconsistent and inadequate Search and Rescue (SAR) operations. According to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) and the International Office of Migration (IOM), the lack of coordinated SAR response along this route puts those at sea in grave danger. Local community-driven organizations such as the Al Abireen Foundation in Tobruk, working alongside the Libyan Red Crescent, are often left to manage recovery efforts with limited resources and minimal international support.

In an interview with Global Voices, a representative from the Al Abireen Foundation, who preferred to remain anonymous, explained the severe restrictions they face in their work: “There is no presence of any major NGOs like the UN or IOM here. We’re left to manage as best we can with limited resources. Only the Red Crescent has been of any significant help, coordinating with us directly on the ground.”

The foundation also faces strict information controls, especially regarding the survivors. “The survivor was taken to Benghazi by the corresponding military officer, but I'm not allowed to publish his name or a picture of him, even though I have a video of him explaining the incident and details regarding the other victims that were on board with him on the boat.” 

The representative explained that in such cases, there is typically a limitation enforced by military personnel oversight, which raises broader concerns about the handling and treatment of migrants intercepted or rescued in the Mediterranean.

#Tobruk_Ain al-Ghazala
The fourth body has been recovered out of 13 migrants who drowned a week ago.

The boat was carrying 25 migrants, most of them of Syrian nationality.
There are 12 survivors, but we have not been able to obtain their names or meet with them to identify the names of the migrants who were with them and drowned.

#Journeys that end with an unknown body, with the smuggler profiting, and many families unaware of the fate of their children. May God help us.

God is sufficient for us, and He is the best disposer of affairs

Given Kambut's proximity to Italian waters, the Al Abireen Foundation sometimes collaborates with the Italian Coast Guard. “Our foundation is occasionally contacted by the Italian Coast Guard, but they do not provide any assistance; it is primarily a routine communication.”

Egypt normalizing migrant deaths

In Egypt, migrant deaths have become so routine that state-aligned media rarely report them. When such incidents are covered, the discourse is often focused on portraying migration as a criminal activity and victims as criminals. This essentially reinforces an extremely desensitized narrative of illegality over humanity and neglects the desperate socioeconomic and political circumstances that drive people to put their lives on the line.

On one of Egypt’s most-watched TV shows, host Ahmed Moussa exemplifies the dismissive rhetoric often seen in Egyptian media on migration issues. In a segment addressing a similar tragedy in which 11 Egyptians lost their lives on the same route, Moussa criticized both migrants and their families, asking, “How could the families allow their sons to leave in this way?”

Moussa mocks the motives of those desperate for a better livelihood abroad and insists that ample opportunities exist in Egypt: “There are plenty of job opportunities in Egypt — more than ever in our history. There's work everywhere.”

In reality, Egypt is facing a severe economic crisis, with the Egyptian pound losing over 35 percent of its value amid surging inflation. According to the Central Agency for Public Mobilization and Statistics, the Consumer Price Index in Egypt has been constantly increasing and reaching all-time highs, reflecting an economic reality of hardship contrary to Moussa’s claims. 

Because they are migrating illegally, migrants are rarely able to speak openly about their reasons for leaving or the process of crossing over to Europe. One such opportunity came in 2022 after 287 Egyptian migrants were arrested en masse in Tobruk, Libya and interviewed.

One of the migrants, Ziad, 12, explained his reason for leaving: “Like anyone else here, I just wanted to have a better life. I was planning to go work in Italy.” Another teenager shared the grueling process they endured in trying to cross into Europe: walking 50 kilometers across the border and being transferred while they were blindfolded from car to car by smugglers until reaching a warehouse where nearly 300 people were held. “We’ve been here for six months,” he added. Most migrants pay smugglers anywhere from EGP 20,000 (USD 400) to EGP 170,000 (USD 3,500) to make the journey.

Another migrant, Khaled, a man in his thirties who had recently undergone open-heart surgery, echoed why many are willing to undertake the cost: “What else should I do? There aren’t any decent-paying jobs.”

The lack of reporting on such incidents gives the impression that the media is collectively avoiding nuanced conversations on the issue and opting to turn a blind eye instead. This has fostered public detachment and apathy, allowing these ongoing tragedies to go unchallenged and unaddressed.

Systemic flaws

This tragedy underscores the need for improved SAR operations and better coordination for migrant support. The ad hoc nature of SAR responses and limited humanitarian access for disembarkations in Libya leaves many migrants without adequate protection. According to the same report by UNHCR and IOM, many intercepted migrants are returned to unsafe conditions with no humanitarian oversight, exposing them to significant risks.

This, among many other untold stories and incidents that continue to take place, illustrates the systemic flaws in current migration management policies in the Mediterranean. According to data collected by the Missing Migrants Project, “the nature of any overseas crossing” often means migrants may “disappear without a trace,” particularly in cases of shipwrecks with no survivors. This is illustrated by hundreds of unidentified bodies found on Libya’s shores and numerous unverified reports of fatal shipwrecks.

The IOM and UNHCR Joint Annual Overview reports that “more than 3,105 migrants and refugees are known to have lost their lives or gone missing at sea,” attempting to reach Europe in 2023. However, they clarify that the actual number is likely higher, as many incidents go “unreported or undetected.”

Without enhanced SAR efforts, transparent government funds allocation, and humane treatment for intercepted and rescued migrants, the Mediterranean will continue to be a hotbed of such humanitarian crises for those forced to leave their homes in search of safety or opportunity abroad.

The incident in Kambut is not an isolated tragedy but a devastating reminder of the ongoing Mediterranean migration crisis.

Written by Saher

Originally published on Global Voices

Firefighters clash with police in Athens while protesting for job security and fair working conditions. Screenshot from Alikto YouTube Channel. Fair use.

Seasonal firefighters in Greece, angry over poor working conditions, are demanding increased job security and benefits, raising alarm bells regarding the government’s neglect of essential workers and lack of policies safeguarding Greek workers’ rights.

The firefighters’ plight can partly be attributed to an increase in the frequency and severity of wildfires due to the climate crisis. The tension between the protesters and police escalated dramatically on October 31, as riot police (MAT) began violently attacking the protesters who occupied the Climate Crisis and Civil Protection Ministry in Athens.  

Job security amidst the climate crisis

Dozens of Greek seasonal firefighters gathered at the Ministry of Climate Crisis and Civil Protection Ministry in central Athens to demand greater job security for essential workers. The protest follows the expiration of the six-month contract for an estimated 2,500 firefighters in October, coinciding with the end of Greece's wildfire season. The protestors were asking for increased worker protections and the benefits that accompany non-seasonal work.

Ageism is also a source of dissatisfaction with firefighters. Experienced members have been barred from applying for certain positions due to an age limit of 35 imposed by specialized firefighting units. This has widened the pervasive issues of job insecurity among essential workers. 

Furthermore, the firefighters have complained that the government has been inefficient in effectively filling vacancies within the fire service. They claim this is crucial, as it might hinder the country's ability to respond to emergencies, particularly deadly wildfires.

PAME, the All-Workers Militant Front and a major Greek trade union, shared footage of firefighters gathering to storm the Climate Crisis and Civil Protection Ministry in Athens.

Firemen enter the Ministry of Civic Protection demanding steady jobs

Firemen who every summer sacrifice themselves to protect our forrests and our people are laid off every October
No more injustice! pic.twitter.com/ZcpxnOZZfN

— PAME Greece International (@PAME_Greece) October 31, 2024

Wildfires are not uncommon in Greece. Yet they have become more frequent and severe because of drought and rising temperatures linked to the climate crisis. This year, Greece experienced one of its worst wildfires ever, with a terrifying, fast-paced fire that tore through the Attica region toward Athens. Multiple wildfires erupted across the country, leading to casualties, the destruction of thousands of hectares of land, and the forced displacement of thousands of residents from their homes.

There has also been widespread concern in Greece, particularly over the belief that many wildfires are intentionally set to cause destruction. Under the rule of the New Democracy Party, many believe that authorities have been quick to attribute the fires solely to climate change while overlooking the possibility of arson as a contributing factor.

A user on X (formerly Twitter) expressed her skepticism, stating:

Greece minister has labelled those responsible as “ARSONIST SCUM” after a staggering 79 were arrested over the fires…

We don’t have a climate crisis… we have an arsonists crisis pic.twitter.com/0CRHLvZCNq

— Pelham (@Resist_05) August 25, 2023

These perceptions have sparked widespread public discontent, with a growing sentiment that the government's response has been inadequate and ineffective. This has increased public suspicion, leading to a decreased trust in the authorities’ ability to handle wildfires. 

During the summer, the Greek government praised firefighters as heroes for their efforts to fight against devastating wildfires. However, as autumn arrived and seasonal firefighters began advocating for job security, they faced a different response: Police intervention, including beatings and tear gas. This controversial yet aggressive action by the MAT has sparked widespread condemnation from community members and labor activists. Among those who expressed their solidarity with the firefighters were the Communist Party of Greece (KKE) and various labor unions.

One user on X expresses solidarity with the firefighters by sharing footage of the police running over a demonstrator with their motorcycle, accompanied by a statement:

Η Πλεύση Ελευθερίας μόλις κοινοποίησε αμοντάριστο βίντεο από την στιγμή που οι ίαινες (μπάτσοι) πατάνε πυροσβέστη που διαδήλωνε για τα δικαιώματα του. Ακολουθεί το χάος, με κρότους λάμψης και ξυλοδαρμό.
Αυτή είναι η Νέα Δημοκρατία…. pic.twitter.com/MbEEmnTeHA

— Alexandros (@melacholiaaa) November 3, 2024

Plefsi Eleftherias [Course of Freedom, a Greek anti-establishment political party] has just shared an unedited video of the moment when the hyenas (cops) run over a firefighter protesting for his rights. Chaos follows, with flashes of explosions and beatings. This is New Democracy…

The ruling government, New Democracy, has faced significant backlash since gaining an absolute majority in the 2023 parliamentary elections. This situation highlights the government’s broader ineffectiveness in addressing the escalating wildfire threats while simultaneously targeting those on the front lines of the crisis — the firefighters. A journalist from Thessaloniki expressed this sentiment on X, stating:

Οι φωτογραφίες που δημοσιεύουν οι #ΕΠΟΧΙΚΟΙ #πυροσβεστες είναι κόλαφος για την κυβέρνηση των ΜΑΤ.
Η κυβέρνηση Μητσοτάκη δεν μπορεί να σβήσει μια φωτιά πριν φτάσει στη θάλασσα, αλλά μπορεί να δέρνει τους πυροσβέστες που θα έσβηναν τη φωτιά.#antireport pic.twitter.com/v6Tsz0cceT

— Chris Avramidis (@chris_avramidis) October 31, 2024

The photos published by the #SEASONAL #firefighters are a blow to the government of the riot police (MAT).

The Mitsotakis government cannot extinguish a fire before it reaches the sea, but it can beat the firefighters who would put out the fire.

Such sentiments have resonated widely, highlighting the growing dissatisfaction many feel toward the government's priorities and treatment of essential workers.

This protest has drawn crucial attention, especially as the climate crisis is only expected to worsen in the coming years. Essential workers, like firefighters, are becoming increasingly vital in combating wildfires and dealing with other natural disasters. In 2023 alone, Greece experienced unprecedented fire risk, with an estimated 1,747 square kilometers burned, more than four times the annual average of previous decades.

 The undermining of the press

During the confrontation between the police and firefighters, Giorgos Androutsos, a photojournalist for the left-wing newspaper Rizospastis, was violently attacked and detained by the police without provocation. Despite being identified as a journalist, the police disregarded his status during the demonstration. 

During the escalation of Giorgos Androutsos’ detainment, Christos Katsotis, a member of Greece's Communist Party (KKE), was present. In the video recorded by Greek photojournalist Yiannis Kemmon, Katsotis can be seen shouting at the police officers as they violently beat Androutsos before finally arresting him. The footage was later published on the Greek Communist Party's YouTube channel. 

A Greek user on X expresses their frustration with the police's handling of the situation, stating:

Απαράδεκτοι. Εριξαν χημικά σε κλειστό χώρο, χτύπησαν με κλομπ στο κεφάλι γυναίκες και άντρες που κάθε χρόνο σβήνουν τις φωτιές και παίζουν κορώνα-γράμματα τη ζωή τους. Πέταξαν κρότου-λάμψης και φυσικά δεν έφεραν διακριτικά.
Και μέσα σε όλα αυτά συνέλαβαν και τον συνάδελφό μου Γ.… pic.twitter.com/ShfqD8oRv7

— Emanuel Kypreos (@EmanuelKypreos) November 1, 2024

Unacceptable. They threw tear gas in an enclosed space, and hit men and women who risk their lives every year to extinguish fires with batons to the head. They threw flashbangs and, of course, they didn’t have identification. And amidst all this, they arrested my colleague, G. Androutsos, for recording them. The most disgraceful thing you’ll notice in the photo is the ‘brave guy’ on the left — the one on the right is putting on a tie-wrap — he’s ready to pull out his weapon!
Who’s he aiming at, the journalist or the firefighters?
To the leadership of the Ministry of Public Order, gather them up. THE POLITICAL RESPONSIBILITY IS ALL YOURS! #firefighters #MAT #Police #Seasonal

After a day in detention, Androutsos was eventually released. However, this is only after an official record regarding the case had been created. Many members of the left-wing political establishment, along with the board of directors of the Journalists’ Union of Greece (ESIEA), the Panhellenic Federation of Editors’ Unions (POESY), and the Photojournalists Association of Greece, condemned the unprovoked attack on Androutsos.

The violent attack on the protestors is a deeply pressing issue, especially in the case of Androutsos, as it undermines the functions of the press and the principles of democracy. Alarmingly, the incident with Androutsos has been largely overlooked by mainstream media, raising eyebrows among activists troubled by the press's failure to cover such a significant event more thoroughly.

A call for solidarity

The exploitation of workers and the erosion of press freedom under the New Democracy party are not new developments. The party has frequently faced criticism for its hardline policies, often seen benefiting the wealthy. Above all, critics have raised concerns about the expansion of the police force by the New Democracy party, highlighting the threats to civil liberties and questioning the government's priorities. Many Greeks have expressed dissatisfaction regarding the party's implementation of privatizing healthcare and education, as well as their dismissal of arguments that attribute rising prices to import costs.

The protests by seasonal firefighters have highlighted Greece's urgent need to shift away from policies prioritizing capital gains over human lives. Limited state intervention has left essential public services underfunded and under-resourced, underscoring Greece's vulnerability to climate-related disasters. The broader complex crisis foreshadows potential instability in the future if left unaddressed.

There is a pressing need for solidarity and accountability within the government, including measures for wealth redistribution to support vital community functions. Ensuring fair treatment for workers, like the firefighters, will require a government committed to their dignity and security. These changes can help Greece foster a positive future by balancing economic growth with a focus on those in need, ensuring its workers’ and citizens’ well-being and resilience.

Written by Elvis Takahashi Mantello