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Arab content creators use social media to talk about sex, sexuality and reproductive health · Global Voices
Mira Nabulsi

A screenshot from an Instagram post by Niswa, one of several social media bids to erase sexual illiteracy.
In recent years, as sex education curriculums remain unattainable in most Arab countries, several Arab women have taken on the task of providing alternatives, offering sex-related information via social media to an increasingly curious youth.
As of now, Tunisia remains the only Arab country with a sex education curriculum, introduced through a pilot program in the public-school system in 2020. Lebanon and Morocco have witnessed debates around the inclusion of sex-ed, with Lebanon going as far as introducing a curriculum in 1995. A few years later, it was pulled down after mounting criticism from religious and political institutions.
In the rest of the Arab world, sex education is confined within the conservative boundaries of religious and biology classes, restricted to carefully hand-picked topics like puberty, the reproductive system and sexually-transmitted diseases. Meanwhile, conversations about sexuality, fertility, sexual abuse, and safe sex, or concepts like consent and gender diversity are reduced to whispers among students in school corridors, often based on unscientific or pornographic online content, if not completely muted.
Nowadays, this void is being filled by homegrown civil society organizations and independent educators. Social media, which once helped millions break political taboos in the region, is creating the space to educate youngsters, have debates and break the stigma around sex.
One such initiative is Niswa (“women” in Arabic), a popular Instagram page founded by Saudi Zainab Alradhi. In emailed responses to Global Voices, Zainab said she started Niswa because of her own experience growing up.
I grew up — like most girls in my generation — lacking body literacy. I had limited information about my body, menstrual cycle, and what it meant to be born in a female’s body.
It wasn't until she read the book Taking Charge of Your Fertility that she was able to find the vocabulary and the passion to connect with an important part of herself, her body. She went on to become a fertility awareness educator. Through her website and Instagram page, with nearly 56,000 followers, she offers courses that teach reproductive health and fertility awareness as not only a method of birth control, but also a self-awareness tool.
Mauj (“waves” in Arabic) is run by women from Lebanon, Saudi Arabia and Egypt. Set up less than a year ago, the Instagram page, which focuses on sexual and reproductive wellness, already has over 50,000 followers.
Mauj staunchly believes in the importance of incorporating sex education in school curriculum, including conversations about consent, pleasure, and the female orgasm. They told GV via email that, while one's sex life is often many people’s business in Arab societies, this rarely translates into support for sex education, because of the dominant patriarchal structure in Arab societies and what is deemed “inappropriate” or “socially unacceptable.” The consequences of which can be serious.
If we continue to avoid these conversations and to treat sexual education like a taboo, we are, in fact, only harming those that we are trying to protect. We are doing girls a huge disservice by keeping them in the dark for too long, it leaves them unprepared for their relationships and can even make them more vulnerable to abuse.
Safa Tamish, from Palestinian organization Muntada al Jensaneya (the Sexuality Forum), in Haifa, said she noticed a wide array of opinions with regards to sexual education for children and teens. Rejection of such curriculum, she told GV, often comes from preconceived notions, such as ‘sex-ed is imported from the West’ or  ‘it will spread immorality and detachment from local values.’
To address that, Muntada al Jensaneya developed an approach centred on personal experiences and reflection, rather than on lecturing or one-sided talk. Safa explains that they respect people's minds and values, while encouraging critical thinking and debate. If faced with skepticism, educators bring up basic questions which children ask their parents, making the discussion more relatable to parents: “Where did I come from?” “How does a child get into a mother’s belly?” or questions from confused teens about the difference between menstruation and masturbation. This often provokes a shift in people’s attitudes, triggering a willingness to engage in conversations.
A screenshot from the series “Why does the animal?” by Muntada Al Jensaneya, which aims to help adults to “logically, comprehensively and without being embarrassed” answer children's sexuality questions which often come from their observation of animals around them.
Young people remain the main target audience of these platforms. According to Mauj’s team, virginity and hymens are the topics most commonly asked about by their online community, which they see as the result of prevalent societal norms around women's virginity across the Arab world. Curiosity about sexual pleasure — whether solo or with a partner, myths around the hymen and masturbation, fear of sex, body image (specifically shape, size, and color of the vulva), and irregular periods are also frequent questions. The posts that receive the most engagement and backlash tend to be ones dispelling myths, challenging what Mauj’s crew refer to as “cultural scripts” and expectations about what it means to be and to behave as an Arab woman.
When talking about sex, sexuality and reproductive organs, Arabs typically use English terms or street slang. Civil rights organizations, educators and activists in the field, therefore, focus on disseminating, and at times introducing, the needed Arabic vocabulary.
While some may presume a lack in the vocabulary needed to speak about their bodies and health in Arabic, some of the commonly used terms can also perpetuate stigmas around bodies or sexuality. For example, self-pleasure or masturbation is translated into the “secret habit” in Arabic, while the vaginal crown or the hymen is called the virginity membrane, projecting the much-emphasized role association it has in Arab culture. Subsequently, the team at Mauj has been deliberate about using correct terminology in their content, in both English and Arabic.
Zainab from Niswa told GV that she found 30 different words to describe the vulva in Arabic but this vocabulary, and associated euphemisms, is not sufficient to create awareness. She therefore started a series called “reclaim your term“ to point out the correct vocabulary and encourage their usage.
Although Instagram has been the primary channel where Mauj and Niswa engage with their online communities in an accessible and an “edutainment” style—as Zainab calls it — the platform has its flaws. For Mauj, it is not a safe enough space for women. The team explains:
We do our best to moderate engagement on the posts, but it is not a private setting — like a secret Facebook group — which would've allowed women to talk as openly as they wish.
Zainab from Niswa says her Instagram content also faces censorship, making it an unlikely sustainable long-term outlet. She and others in her field have received warnings that their accounts or posts may be removed for “violating community guidelines,” especially after sharing cervical fluid/mucus educational images, which aren’t sexual images. She also noticed less engagement with posts including words like sex and orgasm.
Meanwhile, Safa of Muntada al Jensaneya — with over 30 thousand followers on Facebook—says social media enables her organisation to keep up with what's new to spread awareness on sexual and reproductive rights. However, the forum still focuses on in-person workshops and the training of Palestinian and Arab educators, specialists, and activists. This, Safa explains, is crucial to creating tangible transformation in Arab societies as a whole.

author: Mira Nabulsi


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Lebanon’s LGBTQ+ community dreads a bleak future amid harsh present · Global Voices
Raseef22

Image: Giovana Fleck/Global Voices
This piece was originally published on Raseef22, an independent Arabic media platform, on 27 July 2021, and an edited version is being republished under a content-sharing agreement.
Although Lebanon's October 2019 uprising was a window for many from the LGBTQ+ community to speak out and raise their voices, many still live in fear of  continued repression, harassment, and intimidation by authorities, its security services, and its “militias.”
Rory, a trans woman, avoids expressing her opinion during politically charged crises in the country. She recognizes that she is under threat and can be easily targeted and attacked because of the discrimination and marginalization that transgender people and other members of the queer community face.
Speaking to Raseef22, Rory describes the political and social repression of this group of people:
Many like me are afraid to express their opinions due to religious and political pressures. When you are unable to be yourself within your own home, with your family and in society, and are afraid of being attacked while also wanting to express your opinion publicly and are unable to do so, this negatively affects your psyche and your interactions with family and society.
During the uprising, which happened between 2019 and 2021, Rory was at the start of her transition journey. She tried to participate as much as possible in the protests, but the heavy deployment of security services among the demonstrators and the arrests scared her, since Lebanese security services are known for their hostility towards members of the LGBTQ+ community, violating their rights, arresting them and assaulting them, especially trans people.
As for electronic surveillance, particularly of members of the queer community, Rory said:
As of late, I feel that we are being monitored through social media. Every day activists are being summoned by one of the branches of the security apparatus or attacked by party loyalists and supporters.
Amidst this fear and repression, Rory has little hope that members of the LGBTQ+ community — specifically trans people — will gain political representation or hold positions in the state, in the judiciary, or the legal profession.
For LGBTQ+ political activist Doumit Azzi Draiby, expressing an opinion in university or via social media meant being subjected to bullying campaigns and attacks targeting his sexual orientation.
These attempts at repression, he said, prompted him to publicize his homosexuality as a “political challenge that is part of my battle with the regime.” This was not easy, especially since he realized the risks ahead.
Well before he had to in the political field, Doumit faced difficulties with his family because of his homosexuality. Born into a conservative, religious family that sees homosexuality as a “taboo” and discriminates against the LGBTQ+ community, he was hesitant and fearful of their reaction if he came out and announced his gender identity, worried that he may be ostracized like the many others who were expelled from their families and subjected to economic violence.
Being “more privileged” than other homosexuals, Doumit said he was allowed to announce his identity and “stand in the face of the campaigns of bullying and homophobia”. His family’s mindset has even shifted — thanks to his move — from a state of total rejection of the LGBTQ+ community into one of support for him.
According to Doumit, Lebanon's laws do not directly prevent him from holding a public position or office, adding that his decision to reveal his identity was to stand against the existing patriarchal system. He said:
I came out with my true identity so that this clarity would help break down barriers, and pave the way for those who will come after us. I do not want future generations of the LGBTQ+ community to suffer the same way I have.
Doumit Azzi Draiby added that the involvement of LGBTQ+ community members in public affairs constitutes a qualitative leap in the Lebanese political system, and an indication of a change that has begun to affect society. “There is a battle that must be begun today,” he said.
Karim Nammour, a lawyer at Legal Agenda, spoke to Raseef22 about Article 534 of the Penal Code, which is often used in Lebanon to persecute LGBTQ+ members on the grounds of having “sexual relations that are contradicting the laws of nature.” Put in place by the French mandate in the early 1900s, it punishes those found guilty by up to one year in prison.
According to Nammour, judges must repeal the law which is being used “in a very broad and conservative manner,” adding that the phrase “'sexual relations that are contradicting the laws of nature:”
in an ambiguous sentence, when no text in the Penal Code can be vague or ambiguous. And if it is, it is interpreted in favor of the accused. Therefore, at the bare minimum, the act of intercourse should be present and proven, but the judges have punished people by simply accusing them of their identity without evidence of having intercourse.
As for homosexuals’ chances of advancing in political life and attaining high-profile positions, Karim said that this is possible if they conceal their true sexual identity, “but this will not prevent this identity from being exploited and used against them in political work and them being threatened with it.”
Karim Nammour therefore stressed on the need to establish a mechanism to protect people of the LGBTQ+ community from discrimination. “Binding international treaties on Lebanon stipulate non-discrimination for a number of reasons, including sexual orientation and identity,” he said.
The Lebanese state has been under pressure from international human rights groups to abide by international treaties its a signatory of, which mandate the respect of individuals’ gender identities.
Rasha Younes, researcher with the LGBTQ Rights Program in the Middle East and North Africa at Human Rights Watch, told Raseef22 that officials largely justify their violations against the community with a moral duty “which does not go in line with Lebanon’s obligations nor with the protection of the freedoms it claims.”
An example of Lebanese officials’ claim to “preserving collective morals and family structure” manifested when the country’s General Security prevented the LGBTQ+ community from holding a conference in 2018. Younes said that, at the time, HRW tried to meet with the then Director General of Public Security Abbas Ibrahim, but he refused to meet over this issue.
In response to a September 2019 HRW report on discrimination against trans women in Lebanon, Younes said that the Ministry of Justice said that a few social issues prevent trans individuals from changing their name and gender mark, “since the Ministry believes that the presence of people of genders outside the binary (male and female) would confuse society.”
Clearly, Lebanon has not yet advanced a single step with regard to the rights of the LGBTQ+ community. Rather, its officials refuse to address the issue and insist on marginalizing this group — in violation of human rights and international treaties — for fear of the harm that this step would pose to the ruling system, which derives its strength from and feeds on the marginalization policies that it follows.
This project is in cooperation with the Arab Foundation for Freedoms and Equality (AFE) and with the support of the Embassy of the Kingdom of the Netherlands.

source: news-globalvoices

license: Creative Commons - Attribution - https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/


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Thousands of #StrandedAussies angry as border restrictions expand · Global Voices
Tiare Tuuhia

The departure hall at Sydney airport. Photo by Jnpet, Wikimedia Commons. (CC BY-SA 3.0)
The Australian federal government recently expanded border restrictions. Until now, even amid tight COVID restrictions, Australian citizens who normally resided abroad were able to leave and return to Australia. The expanded restrictions will prevent Australians who ordinarily reside abroad from leaving Australia, should they return. This is an effort to stop Australians abroad from returning home and using up the limited quarantine spots available to travelers.  The new measures were announced on August 1 and will come into effect on August 11.
Since the COVID-19 outbreak began, Australia has implemented some of the strictest border closures in the world.  The international travel ban began in March 2020 and has meant that citizens, permanent residents, and even dual citizens cannot leave the country without a government-issued exemption.
However, the most recent restrictions have added fuel to the fire for an estimated 35,000 Australians stuck abroad who wish to return home.  Since March 2020, numerous media stories have highlighted the plight of desperate Australians stranded abroad, unable to return home. Severe arrivals caps, expensive return flights, and long waitlists are among the reasons those abroad are finding it impossible to get back.
Many of these citizens criticize the government’s harsh stance as a breach of their basic human rights. The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights state that “no one shall be arbitrarily deprived of the right to enter his own country.” Despite this, the Australian government has not budged on its controversial border stance.
Social media platforms have become a place for Australians to vent their frustrations with hashtags such as #StrandedAussies trending in early August. New Instagram accounts such as @safelyreuniteaustralia and @aussieswithsigns are providing space for people to gather and share their stories. Frustrated Australians have also used Tiktok videos to share their views with a wider audience.
A post shared by Safely Reunite Australia (@safelyreuniteaustralia)
Many complain that they are unable to visit sick or dying family members because of the restrictions:
This is my mum 5 years ago with my first son. She now has late stage Alzheimer’s after a rapid decline. But @ScottMorrisonMP’s quarantine system has meant I haven’t been able to see her since the pandemic started … thread #auspol #strandedaussies pic.twitter.com/nBC4dxABYF
— Nick_Osborne (@nick_osborne) May 20, 2021
Others are simply frightened at the prospect of continuing border closures, with no clear end in sight:
My biggest fears?
– Environmental collapse
– Relatives dying before I can return home
– Me dying alone on foreign soil #ClimateCrisis #pandemic #strandedaussies #auspol
— Rebekah Ison (@isonbek) August 7, 2021
Many are angry that the government has allowed celebrities and athletes into the country, while ordinary people are stranded:
“At some point we must ask ourselves, if there are ?? children sleeping on airport floors, families living in caravans off charity, people with months left to live, continuously being kicked off flights, while Zac Efron relocates to Byron for the lifestyle- what have we become???
— Just another abandoned Aussie ☠ #strandedaussies (@jorjan333) July 12, 2021
Not sure #strandedaussies feel much togetherness or mateship given we’ve been abandoned. 7 cancelled flights trying to hug my terminally ill mum one last time, but my own country would prefer to let in celebs and sports stars instead.
Never felt less “in this together”.
— AussieLondonder (@icantgethome) August 7, 2021
Others address Australian political leaders directly, begging for change.
Unbelievable… @GregHuntMP has decided to double down on the #FortressAustralia #TravelBan under the guise of supporting #StrandedAussies, who wouldn't be in this position if they'd had an effective policy in the first place!
We aren't “travellers” or holidaymakers FFS!!! https://t.co/OucsaEfA9C
— Richelle McNae (@riccishell) August 5, 2021
Recent data has revealed that more than 50 Australians living abroad have died of COVID-19 since the pandemic began. Among the dead were several who were registered with the Department of Foreign Affairs as seeking help to return home, sparking more outrage amongst the online expatriate community.
Australia’s tight border controls also prompted two citizens abroad to launch a UN petition against the government for the right to return home in March 2021, stating that the travel ban was a breach of basic human rights.
Australian Health Minister Greg Hunt explained the government’s reason for the recent border changes: “The amendment will reduce the pressure on Australia’s quarantine capacity, reduce the risks posed to the Australian population from COVID-19, and assist in returning vulnerable Australians back home.”
For the thousands of Australians still trying to return home, the August regulations indicate it won’t be getting easier any time soon.

author: Tiare Tuuhia


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Cape Verde: Presidential elections scheduled for October · Global Voices
Alexsyane Silva

The PAICV Party headquarters in São Filipe, Fogo, Cape Verde. Via Flickr Travel Aficionado, 2013 (CC BY-NC 2.0)
The next election in Cape Verde, which will determine the new President of the Republic, has been set for October 17. The date was set by Jorge Carlos Fonseca, current President of the country, who also stipulated an eventual second round of votes on October 31st.
The presidential decree setting the dates for the run-off was published on July 27 and went into effect immediately, though the schedule has been in discussion since January 2021. Municipal elections took place in October 2020, and the legislative ones were in April 2021.
According to the newspaper A Nação, Arlinda Chantre, the General Director of support for the electoral process of the General Directorate of Public Administration (DGAP), guaranteed that their organization would facilitate the logistics for future elections:
[…] Como é a segunda eleição do ano, parte da logística foi devidamente preparada com as eleições legislativas, o que nos garante que nós já temos todos os materiais disponíveis e estamos exatamente no processo de preparação dos materiais que devem ser enviados às mesas das assembleias de voto.
[…] As it is the second election of the year, part of the logistics was properly prepared with the legislative elections, which assures us that we already have all the materials available and that we are in the process of preparing the materials that should be sent to polling station tables.
Cape Verde's Constitution designates that the President of the Republic is elected by universal vote of registered voters in-country and abroad. Only people with solely Cape Verdean citizenship, over 35 years of age, and with permanent residence in the territory for at least three years before election day may apply for the position.
During the last presidential elections, held on October 2, 2016, constitutionalist Jorge Carlos Fonseca of the Movement for Democracy Party (MPD) was reelected with 74 percent of the votes. At the end of his second term, the President can no longer be reelected according to the country's term limit regulations.
The largest political parties in Cape Verde, the African Party for the Independence of Cape Verde (PAICV) and the Movement for Democracy (MPD), are have nominated José Maria Neves and Carlos Veiga, respectively. These parties have significant historical and political strength in Cape Verde and have largely dominated the country's political scene for nearly three decades.
José Maria Neves is a former Cape Verdean prime minister who was elected three times between 2001 to 2016. He has also held several political positions, such as president of his party and national deputy.
The PAICV, which once fought for Cape Verde's independence against the Portuguese Empire, says it recognizes their candidate's “political path” and points to him as a “convinced democrat” and “promoter of the values of freedom and tolerance, social justice, and equality opportunities for all.”
José Maria Neves says that, if elected, he wants to heal the country's polarization, bridge bipartisanship within the Public Administration, and promote Cape Verde's recovery after the economic, social, and health crisis caused by the Coronavirus pandemic.
Carlos Veiga, the candidate for the MPD Party, is also a former prime minister (1991 to 2000) and former president of the MPD, which he helped establish in 1990. The politician, who until 2020 was ambassador to the United States of America, promised to be “a President of the Republic above the parties” and “be a non-partisan candidate.”
Veiga, a lawyer, was the first head of Government chosen in a free and multi-party electoral election in the country, after struggling for more than fifteen years under the single-party regime of the African Party for the Independence of Guinea and Cape Verde (now known as PAICV). The candidate is running for a third presidential term, having run previously in 2001 and 2006.
As a demonstration of support for Neves after his campaign announcement, supporters began promoting his slogan “Always with Cape Verde in your heart, Love for First.”
Ernestina Pina posted on Facebook saying:
Amar Cabo Verde para um futuro melhor. Viva Cabo Verde!
Loving Cape Verde for a better future. Long live Cape Verde!
Tito Monteiro agreed:
Um homem certo para um lugar certo. Doutor José Maria Neves.
A right man for a right place. Doctor José Maria Neves.
Similarly, Veiga's supporters flocked to support him after his campaign advertisements. His advertisements read, “Kalu — Carlos Veiga President.”
One supporter, José Manuel Moreno, says:
Estamos juntos, juntos somos mais fortes. Dr. Carlos Veiga, somos invencíveis.
We are together, together we are stronger. Dr. Carlos Veiga, we are invincible.
While another user, João Borrego, comments:
Dr. Carlos Veiga, alegria contagiante. Obrigado. Viva o futuro Presidente de Cabo Verde.
Dr. Carlos Veiga, contagious joy. Thanks. Long live the future President of Cape Verde.
In the 2020 municipal elections, the MPD won in 14 of the 22 municipalities, compared to the PAICV, which won the majority in eight municipalities. In 2021, during the April legislative elections, the MPD secured its dominance by occupying at least 7 more seats than the PAICV (winning 36 of the 72 available). Party and national polling will begin in September.

author: Alexsyane Silva


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Dealing with the legacy of wartime sexual violence in Bosnia and Herzegovina · Global Voices
Balkan Diskurs

Photo by Pete Muller from the My Body A War Zone Project, used with permission.
This story by Alec Anderson and Chiara Zardoni was originally published on Balkan Diskurs, a project of the Post-Conflict Research Center (PCRC). An edited version is republished by Global Voices as part of a content-sharing agreement.
“I would like to invite all women and men to speak up, to tell the truth and talk about what was done to them. We need to record and remember what happened; this is the only way to achieve justice.”  – Presentation of the International PSVI Protocol in Bosnia and Herzegovina, Post-Conflict Research Center
Conflict-related sexual violence (CRSV) has long existed and has just as long been ignored in conflict and post-conflict societies. This continues to be the case for Bosnia and Herzegovina (BiH), a country that survived a devastating war between 1992 and 1995 during which the use of rape as a weapon of war was widespread.
According to a report by the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) that analyzed court proceedings of the political entities comprising Bosnia and Herzegovina as a state (Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina, Republika Srpska, and Brčko District) between 2004 and 2014, more than 20,000 women and girls were raped during the Bosnian War.
The number of men and boys who were raped is officially unknown but has been estimated to be around 3,000 according to the Ph.D. research of Sabina Husić, director Medica Zenica, an organization that provides support for victims of violence.
Furthermore, as explained by the Humanitarian Law Center in its 2019 policy paper, more than one-third of all individuals brought before the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY), the international court charged with prosecuting war crimes in the former Yugoslavia were convicted on charges of sexual violence. Unfortunately, many challenges undermine the goal of ending impunity for perpetrators of conflict-related sexual violence and achieving acknowledgement, effective protection and compensation for survivors. However, improvements have been made at the national level, and civil society organizations (CSOs) have played a key role in achieving these goals.
Rape was established as a crime against humanity by Article 5 of the ICTY Statute. This was the first international court to explicitly prosecute wartime sexual violence cases. Moreover, according to these relatively new international standards, the mere existence of an armed conflict plays a key role in sexual violence cases. In fact, the ICTY states that “armed conflict need not have been causal to the commission of the crime, but the existence of an armed conflict must, at a minimum, have played a substantial part in the perpetrator’s ability to commit it.” Relatedly, a 2015 amendment to the 2003 Criminal Code of BiH revoked a previous requirement for prosecutors to show an explicit demonstration of force or threat—an important improvement. It is of extreme importance to note that these legal improvements occurred thanks to the courage of 16 survivors from Foča who stepped forward to take the witness stand in an international court of law, as depicted in the 2011 documentary I Came to Testify.
However, some courts still do not fully honor this legal improvement and stick to the presumption of innocence of suspected rapists known as the in dubio pro reo principle, ruling in favor of the accused. As a result, many courts have acquitted defendants for cases in which a survivor’s testimony was not deemed credible.
According to a later report published by the OSCE in 2017, another serious challenge concerns the qualification of CRSV cases as “ordinary” crimes and not as war crimes. This qualification does not acknowledge the inherent relationship between conflict and sexual violence, nor the trauma linked to it, and deprives survivors of the benefits of the special evidentiary rule associated with wartime sexual violence cases.
Moreover, the lack of a proper witness protection system is often reported. However, specific protection measures, including closed court sessions, the removal of the defendant from the courtroom, and specific measures for highly vulnerable witnesses, were introduced by the Criminal Procedure Code in 2012.
Finally, as explained by Amnesty International in its Submission to the UN Special Rapporteur on Violence Against Women, the difficulty of obtaining non-material damage compensation, or reparations, is one of the most serious issues that survivors face in BiH today. Courts are reluctant to grant non-material damages, opting instead to refer survivors to civil proceedings which do not guarantee the aforementioned protection measures. Once compensation claims have been awarded by a court, defendants often cannot pay, and courts seldom enforce their judgments. Given this situation, after a trial international petition, the UN Committee against Torture required Bosnia to set up an effective system of compensation for survivors of war crimes in 2017. Unfortunately, little progress has been made to implement this obligation.
Importantly, civil society organizations (CSOs) have stepped up to fill in these shortcomings and gaps left by the state. This process—in which people of every walk of life have come together to solve problems that their government cannot or will not solve—is seen time and time again around the world, and illustrates the vital, but often-overlooked, role that civil society plays as the backbone of a functioning democracy.
For survivors of conflict-related sexual violence in Bosnia and Herzegovina, the story is no different. Jagoda Rošul-Gajić, an expert on international women’s rights, identified women’s CSOs as the “dominant force” working towards the inclusion and support of women in peace and reconciliation processes in BiH. Organizations big and small have undertaken massively important initiatives to help survivors access reparations and justice. These include, but are not limited to, psychological support and therapy for survivors, free legal aid, vital witness protection services for survivors who live in close proximity to their perpetrators, tireless lobbying efforts, and public discourse initiatives.
Yet transitional justice for the survivors of wartime rape requires more than just punitive justice or material reparations. Society-wide acknowledgement of the human rights abuses experienced is necessary in order to move towards collective peace. Civil society plays an important role in shaping not only other people’s attitudes towards survivors of CRSV, but also survivors’ attitudes towards themselves.
It is so important to talk about these women as survivors rather than as passive victims in order to destigmatize their experiences, highlight their resiliency, and empower them as leaders. This can be done through language usage in public discourse, but also through initiatives that directly combat destructive stereotypes which see survivors of CRSV in BiH as “helpless” or welfare-dependent. It is important to educate both the general public and survivors themselves about the heinous war crimes committed against them, and the fact that these crimes are highly deserving of reparations and acknowledgement. As Janine Clark, an expert on CRSV and transitional justice, points out, too much emphasis on trauma and victimhood can disempower survivors, homogenize their experiences, and lead to “highly reductionist” societal perceptions that impede healing.
This article is part of the Balkan Diskurs series “Progress and Challenges in Addressing Conflict-Related Sexual Violence,” highlighting the experience of survivors of conflict-related sexual violence in Bosnia and Herzegovina and abroad. The series comprises the following articles:
– Dealing with the legacy of wartime sexual violence in Bosnia and Herzegovina
– Supporting witnesses: First step towards ending impunity for war crimes in Bosnia and Herzegovina
– An investment in Bosnia and Herzegovina’s future: Compensating survivors of wartime sexual violence
– Combatting Stereotypes: Recognizing Male Victims of Wartime Sexual Violence

author: Balkan Diskurs


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Graffiti in Almaty between scandals, competition, and trolling · Global Voices
Nygmet Ibadildin

A mural celebrating The Joker in Almaty, near the Grand Park shopping center. July 23, 2021. Photo by Alina Zafar, used with permission.
Once labelled as vandalism or cheap art in Kazakhstan, graffiti and murals have risen to prominence thanks to talented street artists, and have also been exploited as tools of government propaganda.
In Almaty, Kazakhstan’s largest city, murals have come to represent a strange battlefield between youth activism and government-sponsored messages. Some murals challenge the current political establishment; others exalt its achievements.
In recent years, authorities have tried to use graffiti to promote messages of national unity and culture, yet these murals have often been trolled and spoiled by other young artists.
Art — especially graffiti — is one of the few outlets for free speech in highly controlled and authoritarian Kazakhstan. When the media is totally controlled and the internet and social networks are partially blocked or filled with state bot-farms, art is the only way to demonstrate discontent. Kazakhstan ranks 155th in the global press freedom ranking, and local people have long struggled to make their voices heard.
Street art is provocative, political, and free. In Almaty, artists found in the facade of buildings or urban walls an alternative space for challenging takes, away from the government discourse.
Government officials tried to tame the rampant graffiti wave and endorsed some state-sponsored murals, such as the painting of first-responders holding the world in their hands, as a tribute to their effort in fighting the COVID-19 pandemic.
Facade of a residential building near the intersection of Tole bi and Baizakov streets. July 23, 2021. Photo by Alina Zafar, used with permission.
Yet, more popular murals are those with ironic images of the former president or pop-culture references that mock the establishment.
In 2019, REPAS, a street art collective, created a large-scale illustration dedicated to the premiere of The Joker, a movie centered around the villain in the Batman series. The mural attracted the attention of the film director, Todd Phillips, who also posted it on the official publicity accounts.
A post shared by Todd Phillips (@toddphillips)
Stalin-, Khrushchev-, and Brezhnev-era architectural styles from the city’s Soviet past continue to pervade Almaty. The large facades of these buildings often provide an unintended canvas for the expression of street art. Almaty has routinely hosted festivals such as Mural Fest, Artbat Fest, and URBANIYA.
From being perceived as an act of vandalism, graffiti are gradually being recognized as pieces of art and features of Almaty’s urban landscape.
Some artists dare go beyond the few authorized topics and highlight hushed-up social problems. Pasha Cas, an internationally recognized artist from Almaty, is famous for questioning bureaucratic systems, from local governments to the UN.
One of his first installations was a controversial one. He hung a mannequin from the frame of a billboard in Almaty, with the provocative writing “Всем пох” (from Russian, “No one gives a f***“). His inflammatory installation addressed the chronically high suicide rates in Kazakhstan.
Some of Pasha Cas's manifests were either modified or taken down because of his uncompromising approach, from criticizing the censure of ‘sofa critics‘ and apathetic citizens to highlighting the desperation of not being heard (or, conversely, being too controlled) by the state.
His largest and most provocative projects addressed issues of ecology and pollution. A series of artworks in Temirtau (an industrial city in central Kazakhstan), Pavlodar (a town in the north of the country), and Semipalatinsk (a small city in the east), became the symbols of citizen activism against pollution. Making references to masterpieces of the early 20th century, Pasha Cas calls upon people to “shout, so that the people at the top, could HEAR us!” (emphasis in original).
A post shared by Pasha Cas (@pashacas)
In 2019, Forbes Kazakhstan included Pasha Cas in the list of the most successful people under 30.
The government's mainstream direction for urban murals has shaped the landscape with projects on social issues, from the COVID-19 pandemic to corruption to cycling. For these graffiti, artists refer to the country's nomadic past and to prominent Kazakh historical figures, such as Abai Kunanbayev, Dinmukhamed Kunayev, Abilkhan Kasteyev, and Abu Nasr Al-Farabi.
Globalization has contributed to changes in street art aesthetics. Artists have increasingly showcased subjects from intertwining cultures and generations. One example is the work of the art association “FORMAT” which depicted Sergey Yesenin, a Russian poet of the Silver age, next to popular Hollywood actor Clint Eastwood. FORMAT summarized their concept with the phrase “Different classic.”
Yesenin and Eastwood in a graffiti at the intersection of Bruno and Islam Karimov streets. July 23, 2021. Photo by Alina Zafar, used with permission.
Soon after the Joker mural was painted, city authorities tried to remove it, citing their effort to harmonize street art objects and to clean up murals without approval. The government official who issued the clean up order later met with the authors of the mural and, due to popular pressure to keep the mural, scrapped the order for removal.
State and city authorities in Kazakhstan have tried to use graffiti for propaganda with mixed success. Some groups of artists aimed to commercialize the field, offering their services for decorating private businesses and promoting government programs. Other, independent artists claim this trend goes counter to the resistance identity of graffiti, which is still harshly criticized by the government and conservative neighborhoods.
Whichever direction the making and unmaking of murals will take, the street art landscape of Almaty is changing.

author: Nygmet Ibadildin


text:
Thailand protests against pandemic mismanagement met with police violence · Global Voices
Prachatai

Protesters gathering at the Victory Monument prepare to head to the 1st Infantry Regiment headquarters. Photo courtesy of Prachatai
The original version of this article was published by Prachatai, an independent news site in Thailand, and was edited and republished by Global Voices as part of a content-sharing agreement.
A protest in Bangkok against the Thai government’s alleged mishandling of the COVID-19 pandemic was met with police violence on Saturday, August 7. Police used water cannons, rubber bullets, and tear gas against the protestors and arrested at least 18 people.
The protest was organized by the activist group Free Youth and partner organizations, who have made three demands: the resignation of Prime Minister Gen Prayut Chan-o-cha, the reallocation of monarchy and military budgets toward COVID-19 assistance, and replacement of the Sinovac COVID-19 vaccines with mRNA vaccines. This is one of several protests that have been held related to the government's COVID response.
Organizers met at the Democracy Monument with a plan to march to the Grand Palace. By noon, two hours ahead of the scheduled 2:00 pm start time, around 100 protesters had begun gathering at the Democracy Monument but were faced with lines of crowd control police blocking the planned route.
At 12:25 pm, the police ordered the protesters to end their gathering and crowd control police began to advance on the protesters. There were reports that rubber bullets were used and that 2 protesters were arrested.
Firecracker-like sounds were heard at the scene. Protesters were also reportedly shooting slingshots and throwing glass bottles and rocks at the crowd-control police. Officers in the vicinity were seen wearing bulletproof vests and carrying cable ties, batons, and shields. Some were also carrying rubber bullet firearms.
Due to the crowd control police and other anti-protest blockades, the protesters were repeatedly re-routed on thier march, but eventually ended up at the Victory Monument. The Free Youth announced via their Telegram channel for the protesters to meet at the Victory Monument before marching to the 1st Infantry Regiment headquarters, where PM Prayut lives.
However, protestors found the roads near the 1st Infantry Regiment headquarters closed, as the police had declared them a no-entry zone. The police ordered the protesters back to the Victory Monument, and the protestors refused, sparking. clash.
During the conflict, officers were told that they could use rubber bullets if protesters approached the police lines. The clash lasted for at least two hours, as police fired rubber bullets and tear gas at the protesters. At around 5:20 pm, police began using water cannons.
Tear gas was fired at protesters at the Din Daeng Intersection. Photo by Prachatai
Amid the tear gas, bullets, and water cannons, the protesters were forced to retreat to the Victory Monument and the organizers announced the end of the protest at 5:35 pm.
However, clashes continued at the Victory Monument throughout the evening as crowd control police continued to fire tear gas at the remaining protesters. There were also reports that tear gas was fired from the skywalk above the monument, while water cannon blasts were reported as crowd control police moved toward the momument. Clashes continued until around 9:00 pm.
Several National Human Rights Commissioners weighed in on the protest. Regarding the potential violations of the right to freedom of expression, Commissioner Wasan Paileeklee said that even though there might be a legal framework supporting the police’s operation, their actions must be proportional.
Rows of containers blocked the street at the Nang Leong Intersection. Photo by Prachatai
Police officers searched several activists’ homes ahead of the protest. Thai Lawyers for Human Rights (TLHR) reported that on Saturday, August 7 that three plainclothes officers and one uniformed officer searched activist Chukiat “Justin” Sangwong’s apartment at 7:30 am. Chukiat said that the officers also asked to see his computer, but he refused, and he was told that he would be charged if he shared images of the search warrant. TLHR said that three plainclothes officers and one uniformed officer also searched the home of a Thammasat University student in Pathum Thani.
Activist Piyarat Chongthep said that at least two members of the We Volunteer protest guard group were followed by police officers who tried to search their houses ahead of the protest. Officers also came to We Volunteer’s headquarters, and Piyarat later told TLHR that around 10 officers were stationed outside the building, threatening that he could be arrested if he left to join the protest.
Piyarat also said that two members of the We Volunteer protest guard group had been arrested at a friend's house on Friday night August 6. The house was also searched and the two detainees were later released after nothing illegal was found.
TLHR reported that over 15 police officers also raided the residence of a We Volunteer member on Saturday morning, claiming that they had received a report of illegal activities. They arrested at least three people, brought them to the police station, and confiscated their car and mobile phones. No search warrant was presented.
Oil tankers blocking the route to the Grand Palace. Photo by Prachatai.
Shipping containers and oil tankers were placed across Sanam Luang on Saturday morning to block the original route of the march to the Grand Palace. A banner saying “The king’s soldiers and the police of the (good) people have joined forces, ready to protect Wat Phra Kaew and the Grand Palace” was hung from the containers.nearby roads were also closed.
TLHR later published a letter from Assistant Police Commissioner Pol Lt Gen Kraiboon Suadsong to the State Railway of Thailand requesting the use of decommissioned train cars and oil tankers to prevent activities risking the spread of COVID-19.
The State Railway Workers’ Union of Thailand (SRUT) then issued a statement calling for decommissioned rolling stock not to be used as barriers, and for an investigation to be launched into how the train cars were taken. They also expressed disagreement with the train cars were used, as the right to peaceful assembly is enshrined in Thailand's Constitution and in international human rights law.
The SRUT said that there is a risk that dangerous objects could be placed in the cars and oil tankers, potentially causing harm.
A protester was arrested at the Democracy Monument (Photo from iLaw)
TLHR reported that at least 18 people were arrested before and during Saturday’s protest. TLHR also said that two protesters who were arrested at the Democracy Monument had thier hands tied with cable ties, and one of them showed signs of being assaulted while in detention. TLHR later reported that police officers also detained the driver of a van carrying four speakers after the protest, pushing him to the ground before arresting him.
Eight We Volunteer members arrested before the protest were charged with being members of a secret society under Sections 209 and 210 of the Thai Criminal Code, while the remaining 10 people were charged with violating the Emergency Decree.

author: Prachatai


text:
After writing about police killings, editor of The Intercept Brazil is made target of investigation · Global Voices
Giovana Fleck

“Why the Intercept decided that Leandro Demori will not subject himself to a police questioning against our journalism”, says a The Intercept Brasil's editorial | Image: Art by Giovana Fleck
In early June, a month after publishing a newsletter about the possible existence of a group of killers within the Civil Police of Rio de Janeiro state, the journalist and executive editor of The Intercept Brasil, Leandro Demori, received a strange email.
“I sent it to the lawyers because I didn't know if it was true”, he told Global Voices. The message informed him of the opening of a civil inquiry by the police to investigate his reporting.
The justification presented by the police was that the journalist slandered their department, the Coordination of Special Resources (Core). “Which is absurd. Slander against institutions does not exist”, he says.
In addition, there is no Brazilian legislation restricting the dissemination of journalistic content through newsletters, and the Brazilian Constitution states that: “No law shall contain a provision that could constitute an obstacle to the full freedom of journalistic information in any media platform.”
The May 8 newsletter, which was mailed to the site's subscribers with a text signed by himself, focused on Core's actions, which resulted in 2020 in at least 41 homicides on the outskirts of Rio de Janeiro.
Among the cases listed was the May 2021 Jacarezinho slaughter, during which police killed 28 people in an illegal operation to, allegedly, combat drug gangs in the Jacarezinho favela in Rio.
The operation happened despite a ban on this type of police activity in the city's favelas during the pandemic by the Brazilian Supreme Court. Jacarezinho was the deadliest police raid in the city of Rio de Janeiro to date, according to experts.
The Rio de Janeiro State Police, which includes Military and Civil units, has been blamed for the most kills in Brazil by security forces, according to data analysed by Piauí magazine.
In 2019, as documented by the Brazilian Forum of Public Security, Brazil registered at least 5,804 people killed by police officers, of which 1,810 were in Rio. A poll by Datafolha institute the same year found that 51% of Brazilians were afraid of the police and 47% did not trust the units.
In the first half of 2020, 775 people were killed by police forces in Rio, according to news outlet G1, the highest number in the country amidst a rise in police killings.
On average, Rio's police officers killed one person every ten hours from January 1998 and March 2021, says O Globo newspaper.
In his story, Demori asked that the circumstances, intentions, and culpability for these killings to be investigated. The Intercept Brasil has a history of reporting on the actions of “militias“, the colloquial name for paramilitary groups with corrupt police officers among their members.
The militias date back to the military dictatorship days in Brazil, when death squads in several Brazilian states operated with the claimed motive of combatting organized crime and drug trafficking. In Rio, they gained force as a parallel power fighting for territorial control in poor areas where the state was nearly absent, as described in Republic of Militias — From Death Squads to the Bolsonarist Age, a recent book by the journalist Bruno Paes Manso.
But, as Demori pointed out in the newsletter, a great deal about how and where the militias operate is not known. He raises the hypothesis that they would benefit from the killings in Jacarezinho and other territories, with the complacency of the Civil Police of Rio de Janeiro. The same point was raised by columnists in different mediums, calling the Jacarezinho massacre a territorial dispute.
Demori won't reveal whether the Intercept is working on a report with concrete evidence on some of these angles, but says the newsletter is an “important and strong” communication channel and will continue despite the threats.
According to O Globo, four days after the text was sent, on May 12, Core police officers sought to open the inquiry because they “felt offended” by it.
One of the authors of the investigation request is also one of the witnesses in the investigation targeting Demori, commissioner Pablo Dacosta Sartori. He is the chief officer of the Police Station for the Repression of Computer Crimes (DRCI), a division of the Civil Police.
Sartori is known for having called for investigations against other journalists and internet personalities, such as anti-Bolsonaro YouTuber Felipe Neto. These inquiries ended up being shelved by higher courts.
For Demori, the actions of the commissioner seem to be a personal attack. “Everything indicates that it is”, he says. A corroborating piece of evidence is that Sartori omitted mention of a prior relationship with Core. He served for three years as head of Core's Aerospace Service, according to Congresso em Foco news outlet.
Demori was called to testify at the police station on June 11 but decided not to show up. “The police state that has been eroding democracy in Brazil does not seem interested in investigating police officers. Instead, it prefers to harass journalists”, wrote The Intercept Brazil in an editorial explaining Demori's decision not to testify.
Attacks against journalists through institutions such as the police are not uncommon in Brazil. According to a report from the National Federation of Journalists (FENAJ), 2020 was the most violent year since the early 1990s for journalists. There were 428 cases of attacks, including two murders, representing an increase of 105% compared to 2019.
The Brazilian Association of Investigative Journalism (Abraji) considered the subpoena an attempt to curtail the work of the press. A letter in support of the journalist posted on social networks started to collect signatures.
Manifesto contra intimação de jornalista Leandro Demori @demori pela polícia do Rio já tem mais de 100 assinaturas.https://t.co/pWOXRGVAIU
— Mônica Bergamo (@monicabergamo) June 10, 2021
Manifesto against subpoena of journalist Leandro Demori @demori by the Rio police already has more than 100 signatures
Demori told Global Voices that he is safe, and watched over by security guards provided by The Intercept. According to him, the website and the newsletter follow their normal schedule.
When asked if the tactic of subpoenaing journalists to curtail freedom of expression is effective, he answered: “It is effective to some extent, but I do not submit myself to the curtailment of my constitutional freedom to do my job in my country. As long as it exists, I will make use of this right as a Brazilian citizen”.
In relation to press freedom in Brazil, Demori emphasizes that this episode demonstrates that some Brazilians do not seem to appreciate the freedoms guaranteed by the Constitution.
“Maybe they don't like the country they live in and would prefer to live in a dictatorship. If it's up to us, Brazil won't become one.”

author: Giovana Fleck


text:
Are Turkish environmental groups alone in criticizing the Beijing-Ankara economic integration? · Global Voices
Arzu Geybullayeva

Illustration by Giovana Fleck based on EMBA's promotional images.
China's largest investment in Turkey — a key component of its Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) — is a coal-based power plant located in Adana in South Central Turkey called the Emba Hunutlu power station. While the Turkish government supports the project and sees it as a compliment to its regional integration efforts, one sector is adamantly voicing its opposition: the environmental community, which is accusing Chinese authorities of using double-speak when making environmental commitments.
On September 22, 2020, addressing the UN in a video message, China President Xi Jinping announced that China would achieve carbon neutrality by 2060 to combat climate change. Yet, at present, Beijing finances fossil fuel projects in at least 27 countries around the world. Most of these projects are integrated into China’s Belt and Road Initiative.
The Emba Hunutlu power station is part of China's Belt and Road Initiative in Turkey, an economic and political cooperation program Ankara joined in November 2015. In April 2019, the countries signed a special BRI deal, and construction on the Hunutlu plant began in September 2019.
The project represents China’s largest direct investment in Turkey. Once it is completed in 2022, it will have a capacity to produce 1.32 GW of electricity — about three percent of all electricity currently produced in the country. The plant will be fueled using local coal from Adana as well as imported coal. When China announced its decision to build a coal plant in Adana, numerous environmental groups signed a petition encouraging all Chinese banks financing the construction to withdraw. The project also fits into Turkey’s own global Silk Road project, called the Middle Corridor Initiative (MCI), thus, integrating China and Turkey’s ambitions of creating international hubs to boost global trade.
When China announced its decision to build a coal-fired power plant in Adana, Turkish environmental groups were largely alone in opposing the project. They signed a petition letter encouraging all Chinese banks financing the construction, namely the China Development Bank, the Bank of China Ltd., and the Industrial & Commercial Bank of China Ltd. to halt their funding due to environmental and health concerns.
“In light of community opposition to the project, as well as the lack of legal compliance, we respectfully ask that the financiers of the Emba Hunutlu coal plant withdraw all financial support from the project. We believe that the cumulative biodiversity, environmental, air pollution, climate, and policy alignment issues raise serious red flags about your institution’s involvement in this project,” the group said in the letter.
A recent report by the World Wildlife Foundation in Turkey (WWF-Turkey) and the Sustainable Economy and Finance Research Association (SEFiA) reveals the costs of this power plant on the environment and health of the local populations. Once in operation, the Hunutlu power plant “will run on 2.8 million tons of important coal per year and will emit more than 200 million tons of CO2 during its project lifespan,” wrote the Rainforest Action Network, in its “Baking on Climate Chaos: Fossil Fuel Finance Report 2021.”
Those near the construction zone on Iskenderun Bay already suffer from air pollution due to other industrial facilities such as a gas power plant, two coal power plants, and a steel factory. According to the Rainforest Action Network, some 2 million inhabitants and the area’s biodiversity will be affected by the pollution caused by the new plant. In June 2020, a report released by the Centre for Research on Energy and Clean Air estimated that the plant will contribute to 2,000 premature deaths over its 40-year lifetime.
There are also increased cancer risks associated with the plant. In a lawsuit challenging the license agreement of the Sugözü Kömürlü Thermal Power Plant, which became operational in 2003, volunteer for the Eastern Mediterranean Environment Platform and lawyer İsmail Hakkı Atal said that cancer cases increased by 11 times and cancer types by 275 percent in the area between 2009–2014.
Besides the direct impact on the environment and public health, activists also question the economic model and viability of this giant project. The new WWF-Turkey and SEFiA report indicates that the Hunutlu power plant won't pay off the capital cost — at least not in the next 30 years.
Speaking to the Climate Action Network Europe, the author of the report and the founding director of SEFiA, Bengisu Özenç, said:
Our net present value calculations show that under the capital cost scenario which corresponds to the ultra-supercritical coal burning technology, the Hunutlu thermal power plant is unable to pay back its capital cost over a period of 30 years, even under the assumption of high electricity prices. It is therefore worth questioning the political economy and financial sustainability of this investment, which would have an installed capacity of 1,320 megawatts if completed.
WWF-Turkey General Manager Aslı Pasinli told the Climate Action Network Europe, “In an environment where coal exit scenarios are increasingly discussed, the construction of new coal-fired thermal power plants is a serious question mark. The answer to this question can be found in the financial feasibility studies on new plant investments, which are expected to stand idle not only because of climate change concerns but also with the shift of global financial flows.”
This year marked the 50th anniversary of the establishment of diplomatic relations between Turkey and China. The two leaders congratulated each other on this occasion through a phone call on July 13, stressing “the high potential for commercial and diplomatic ties between Turkey and China” in areas that include “energy, trade, transportation, and health.”
Turkey's relations with China have changed significantly since 2009, when the then Prime Minister Erdoğan, described what has happening to China's Uighur ethnic minority as a “massacre.” But Turkey's stagnating economy signals a change in how the country's leadership views China.
In an interview with Voice of America, Kemal Kirisci, a senior fellow at the Washington-based Brookings Institution, said Turkey's ruling government hopes that Chinese investments, trade, and credits could help salvage its economy. In 2019, Turkey did not sign the joint letter issued at the 41st session of the United Nations Human Rights Council to condemn China’s “mass arbitrary detentions and related violations” of Uyghurs and other minorities. A July 2020 investigation published by The Telegraph documented “Ankara’s acquiescence to Beijing’s extradition requests targeting Chinese Uyghur dissidents” and further highlighted their shifting interests.
In addition to the coal-based power plant, China's investments in the country include railways, the Chinese-built and funded Marmaray railway tunnel, a 65 percent stake in Turkey’s third largest container port, a third bridge connecting Istanbul's two continents, and Turkey’s largest e-commerce platform, Trendyol, which was purchased by the Chinese company Alibaba in 2018, among other examples.
Against this backdrop of close economic ties and investments with China, environmentalists are campaigning hard to halt some of these projects such as the power plant.
As for China, some say it is not too late to change direction. Elif Gündüzyeli, the Coal Policy Coordinator for Climate Action Network (CAN) Europe, said: “China could accelerate the shift to low-carbon power in Turkey by signaling an intention to carry climate leadership into the BRI (Belt and Road Initiative) rather than pursue high carbon projects such as Hunutlu.”
This story is part of a Civic Media Observatory investigation into competing narratives about China’s Belt and Road Initiative, and explores how societies and communities hold differing perceptions of potential benefits and harms of Chinese-led development. To learn more about this project and its methods, click here.

author: Arzu Geybullayeva


text:
Down with the patriarchy: Transfeminist and non-binary Bolivians speak out on TikTok · Global Voices
Muy Waso

Montaje de La Pesada Subversiva
This article was originally published by Muy Waso, and was edited and republished by Global Voices.
The transfeminist collective from the city of Santa Cruz in Bolivia, La Pesada Subversiva, is working on a digital initiative called “Se va a caer,” loosely translated as “It's going to fall,” and referring to the patriarchal system. They aim to use social media, especially TikTok, to give more visibility to transgender and non-binary people, as well as people who identify as travesti in Bolivia.
The initiative is a series of transfeminist and sexual dissident testimonies on a range of issues including abortion, sex work, corporeality, hate crimes, and trans struggles. “It's going to fall” refers to a society working along with the codes of patriarchy and heteronormativity.
There were 60 attacks on the LGBTQI+ community in Bolivia in 2020 and it is estimated that only one in ten attacks are reported, for fear of suffering discrimination. While Bolivia adopted a law on gender identity in 2016, same-sex unions remain difficult to obtain. A 2016 survey found that 65 percent of respondents thought “human rights should apply to everybody, regardless of who they are attracted to or the gender they identify with”.
La Pesada Subversiva hopes to “invade” online spaces with content about anti-patriarchal demands from the voices of the protagonists themselves. So far they have had guests such as the trans Indigenous activist Vanina Lobo and the human rights activist and sex worker Catalina Parada.
In the following video, Vanina Lobo explains the struggle there was for the recognition of the identity law in Bolivia and what remains to be done for the community's human rights.
“TikTok is a perfect social media platform to encourage reflection, there are a lot of young and diverse people willing to discuss and interact about videos that last no more than a minute,” says Chris Egüez, a sexual dissidence activist.
For Chris, there is a great opportunity to encourage social change through these platforms. “If you can get everything we want to say packed into that time, you can construct debate and empathy.”
La Pesada Subversiva's goal is that feminist perspectives are not left behind in the use of new digital platforms. They also want stories of violence to not be the only ones that dominate social media.
In the following video, Chris Egüez analyzes how traditional Bolivian media perpetuate transphobic discourses when they do not recognize trans people's gender identity.
“We have to go where everybody else is going. Now young people are on TikTok and we plan to amplify our voices in that place,” said Alejandra Menacho, a feminist and audiovisual communicator.
For example, in the following TikTok video, a grandmother talks about her acceptance and love for her grandson and daughter, who are part of this sexual diversity.
For Menacho, remaining outside of and excluded from taking advantage of new technologies is not an option. “This social media gives us a heap of tools to keep occupying spaces in a creative way, without abandoning our struggles and causes,” Menacho added.
In the middle of the pandemic, with much more time spent online and the apparent strengthening of discourses based in exclusionary identities, the “Se va a caer” series seeks to be a place of expression for trans and non-binary people.

author: Muy Waso


text:
Netflix animation “Trese” brings Filipino supernatural beings to our screens · Global Voices
Karlo Mongaya

A screenshot from the website of Netflix's “Trese.”
“Trese,” a Netflix animated adaption of the comic series of the same title by Kajo Baldisimo and Budjette Tan, brings some classic Filipino supernatural mythologies to a city beset by gruesome crimes, police violence, government corruption, urban poor evictions, and other contemporary social realities.
The six-part series, released in June 2021, focuses on the story of Alexandra Trese, a shaman-detective dedicated to solving crimes committed by mythical beings and defending the human realm from intrusions of the otherworldly.
Unsurprisingly, “Trese’s” Netflix run has sparked interest among Filipino citizens curious about how the series represents Filipino myths.
There are mixed views on “Trese’s” treatment of Philippine folklore, with journalist DLS Pineda taking a swipe at its representation of mythical creatures:
Is the coast clear?
Trese’s major problem is that it treated folklore like mutants with superpowers. There was no connection with reality. If there was, it was forced and it failed miserably. Folklore explains the inexplicable, makes inexplicable the explainable. Trese did not.
— DLS Pineda (@dlspineda) July 10, 2021
I feel like this opinion is only correct bcos its looking through a lens that is not necessarily the one used by the makers. I mean did the maker intended to expound on the folklore or did they want to make a kickass animation based on the folklore.
— potato ferdie (@KingTheFerdie) July 11, 2021
While your criticism is valid the original material felt like a playful mash up of 90s urban myths and police procedural which they wrapped up with a big character arc. Hopefully they explore the folklore a bit more in a second season, writing outside past the original comic.
— san narciso (@ohitspao) July 10, 2021
Since its first installment in 2005, the “Trese” comic series has reached seven volumes and attained national acclaim and international recognition. A chapter from the series was even included in the 2013 Akashic Books short story collection Manila Noir, underscoring its cultural significance.
“Trese” also features frequent supernatural crossover with Filipino mythology, from the dwarf-like nuno inhabiting a manhole, the half-horse tikbalang in a drag race on the highway, up to monstrous aswang maintaining wet markets for human meat in the capital city of Manila.
This fascinating mix of gothic and noir elements extends to its integration of police-procedural with inexplicable and magical resolutions; as well as a dark vision of criminality and corruption pervading urban life.
On the one hand, some netizens see “Trese” as a condemnation of police brutality:
Trese calling out the police brutality happening in the Philippines.
ill say it again until justice has been serve to those innocents,#EndPoliceBrutality #StopTheKillingsPH pic.twitter.com/hKF4E0yvyk
— çalla lilium ? | XIII ? (@yokaaaaaai) June 12, 2021
On the other hand, others accuse it of apologizing for police brutality and buying into the “good cop” narrative:
trese is.. okay. it was really nice & refreshing to see filipino folkfore come to life & to be able to understand the context behind certain local words, but the cop propaganda really put me off lol i don’t think it was a right move considering the level of police brutality here
— ; (@letterfull) June 12, 2021
Little thought bubble on the Trese series.
I don't like how it spent so much time being sympathetic towards “good” cops. In fairness, it *did* touch on police brutality and “bad” cops in the system, but it only seemed to do so–
— Rafie (@rafieoftherafs) June 17, 2021
Human rights worker Philip Jamilla sees “Trese” as embodying urban middle-class anxieties against public security threats transposed in the series into supernatural threats:
Back to policing. In perpetuating social order, policing often relies on securitizing latent anxieties as existential threats to public security—and Alexandra Trese plays this role of a supernatural police in keeping these monsters at bay (not to mention her work with policemen).
— Philip Jamilla (@pmjamilla) June 11, 2021
Writer Emil Hofileña noted that the series made some story-telling and production concessions in order to attract an international audience.
So these six episodes can’t stop at individual mysteries. They must promise audiences an epic fantasy story that can span multiple seasons, and several voice dubs have to appeal to demographics across different continents.
Journalist Alec Joshua Paradeza commented on the state of animation in the Philippines:
Bagaman malakas ang lukso ng dugo at #PinoyPride, ang Base Entertainment, na siyang namahala sa produksiyon ng Trese, ay isang film company na nakabase sa Jakarta at Singapore. Hindi naman ito kagulat-gulat, dahil sa pagdidiin na bata pa ang industriya ng animation sa bansa, kung masasabi ngang industriya ito.
Nitong nagdaang mga panahon ay malakas ang tulak para kilalanin ang animation bilang nakabubuhay na career, na ligtas sa pandemya, ngunit hindi natatalakay ang katotohanang kalakhan ng mga animators sa Pilipinas ay outsourced ng mga dayuhang kompanya.
Malayo ang agwat ng animation ng Trese kumpara sa mga anime na inilalabas ng Japan dahil sa mahaba nilang tradisyon ng animation. Kinilala naman ito ng mga tagasubaybay: may pagtitimpla sa ekspektasyon kaya itinuon ng marami ang pagtanaw sa patuloy na pag-unlad nito sa mga susunod pang panahon.
While it certainly inspired #PinoyPride, Base Entertainment, which produced Trese, is a company based in Jakarta and Singapore. This is not surprising, given the infancy of the animation industry in the Philippines, if it can really be said to be an industry at all.
These past years there had been a strong push to recognize animation as an acceptable career that is safe from the pandemic, but there is no discussion of the reality of most animators in the Philippines as outsourced labor by foreign companies.
There is a huge gap in the animation of Trese in contrast to the anime released by Japan because of their long animation tradition. Observers recognize this: there is a leveling of expectations hence many focused on its continuing development in the future.
In the end, amidst the hype and mixed reception, “Trese” for many offers hope for the future of Philippine animation:
it’s so inspiring and hopeful to think about how trese on netflix is going to open so many doors for other local artists and writers who are dreaming to get their works published and/or adapted ? nothing but gratitude for them for blazing the trail ??
— ᴛꜱᴀᴍʙɪ | ᴄᴏᴍᴍꜱ ᴏᴘᴇɴ (@tsambolero) June 11, 2021

author: Karlo Mongaya


text:
Olympics: COVID-19 widens gap between Latin America and wealthier nations · Global Voices
Connectas

Montaje de CONNECTAS
This article was written by Víctor Diusabá Rojas for CONNECTAS, and an edited version is republished on Global Voices.
Latin America sent 230 fewer athletes to Tokyo compared to the previous Summer Olympics in Rio. Despite this, several Latin American competitors won medals within the first few days of this year's Games, including the Ecuadorian cyclist Richard Carapaz, the Colombian weightlifter Luis Javier Mosquera, the Mexicans Luis Álvarez Murillo and Alejandra Valencia, plus the Brazilians Rayssa Leal, the 13-year-old who is known as the ‘Fadinha’ or ‘The Little Fairy,’ Kelvin Hoefler and Daniel Cargnin.
This is a great achievement, as winning an Olympic medal is no easy feat. At the 2016 Olympic Games in Rio de Janeiro, fewer than half (just 86) of the 205 countries that competed won a medal.
The Ecuadorian cyclist Richard Carapaz won a surprise gold medal in the men's road race in Tokyo. After winning, he complained that he had received no support from his home country. Credit: Wikimedia Commons.
Those early medals sparked joy and optimism in the athletes’ home countries. Their achievements dominated newspaper headlines, as the region's media finally found a reason to celebrate after many months of grim news on the COVID-19 pandemic.
Every one of those winners dreamed of bringing glory back home with them. However, standing at the top of the podium, only they knew the huge effort that it took for them to claim Olympic victory. Every single medal won has a unique story and is etched with the tears of those who did not win. This is especially true this year, when the competitors have trained, competed, and taken part in the strangest Olympic Games in history, which has been marked by the absence of spectators and by the ever-present fear of contagion.
Why do Latin American athletes face additional challenges compared to their counterparts in many parts of the world?
The first answer lies in the devastating effects of the pandemic. In late May 2021, according to Carissa F. Etienne, Director of the Pan American Health Organisation (PAHO), deaths caused by COVID-19 surpassed one million in Latin America. A month later in June, 37 million people were infected, a number which is almost the sum of Peru's and El Salvador's populations combined. In economic terms, according to the Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean (ECLAC), regional debt rose from 68.9 per cent to 79.3 per cent of the Gross Domestic Product between 2019 and 2020. And that is not counting the debt that will be accrued in the current financial year. According to ECLAC, Latin America is the most indebted out of all the developing regions, above Asia, Sub-Saharan Africa, the Middle East, Central Asia, and Europe, in that order. In short, COVID-19 has hit Latin America harder than in other regions of the world.
Sport has also felt this impact. In fact, athletes affected by the virus were forced to give up their dreams of competing in Tokyo, even when they had qualified for a place. This included the Mexican baseball players Héctor Velázquez and Sammy Solís, Chilean taekwondo player Fernanda Aguirre and Colombian cyclist Daniel Felipe Martínez.
According to Olympedia.org, there are 230 fewer Latin American athletes in Tokyo than in Rio de Janeiro. Several countries that usually send large teams decreased the size of their delegations, including Brazil (145 fewer athletes), Colombia (73 fewer) and Cuba (48 fewer). Credit: Colombian Olympic Committee
Unfortunately, there is no concrete data on the cuts made to sports budgets as a result of the crisis. In 2018, before anyone had ever heard of COVID-19, the 20 largest economies in Latin America contributed $1.9 billion to the sports sector, according to Forbes. This included areas such as high performance, infrastructure, physical activity programs, promotion, administrative salaries, and scholarships. The largest portion came from Brazil (44.4 per cent), followed by Mexico, Chile, Colombia, and Ecuador.
Likewise, some countries such as Mexico sent a large delegation, while Colombia tripled the amount allocated to sport four years prior in order to prepare its athletes for these Olympics. However, it cannot be denied that Latin American athletes suffered from the suspension of local and regional competitions on which a good part of their training strategy relied.
During the pandemic, images of athletes and aspiring champions setting up training spaces in their homes became a familiar sight in the media and on social networks. They, and their coaches, knew that these efforts would not be enough to win gold. Cuban athletes recently spoke about how they had turned the roofs of their homes into gyms.
Sportsmen and women all over the world were in the same situation. At least the vast sports infrastructure and fewer limitations on mobility in wealthier nations made that situation more bearable. In fact, athletes from Latin America travelled to Europe well in advance of the Olympics to make use of those spaces, although they did not always have much luck. For example, the Brazilian men's football team encountered a problem: rivals did not always want to play against a team from a country with one of the worst records of infections, deaths and reported to be the focus of new strains.
It is true that the “First World's” lead over Latin America is felt now more than ever. However, the odds have always been stacked against poorer nations throughout the history of the Olympics, a scenario in which the world's larger powers have always leveraged their advantage. Ultimately, Latin American athletes face the same challenges as Luis Subercaseaux, the lonely Chilean who enrolled in cycling and athletics in the first games of the modern era in Athens in 1896. However, no one knows if he actually took part as he does not appear in the official records. Nor as the Cuban fencer Ramón Fonst, who won gold and silver medals in Paris in 1900. Latin American countries continued vying for Olympic glory in Tokyo. However, despite all their hard work and determination, in the end, it is the medal table that decides their fate.

author: Connectas


text:
The Brazilian professor who created a crayon set to talk about identity and racial issues · Global Voices
Talita Fernandes

Gladis Kaercher in a talk at the TEDxFronteiras event in 2018 | Photo: YouTube/Screenshot
This text is part of a special Global Voices series on women in academic careers called Women in Science. See other stories here and here
Gladis Kaercher, a 52-year-old professor at the Universidade Federal do Rio Grande do Sul in southern Brazil, has devoted most of her professional career to discussions and teaching practices of ethnic-racial relations. As a Black woman working in a region known for the influence of European immigration, her work has been crucial to starting essential conversations about race and identity in Brazil.
In Brazil, the majority of the population declares itself Black and racial inequality manifests in data such as the murder rates of Black people, which increase while those of white people decrease. In this context, Kaercher is a voice that defends the importance of the discussion of racial issues in the formation of individuals since childhood.
In 2014, in partnership with her colleague Tanara Furtado, she created an unprecedented teaching resource in Brazil, known as the UNIAFRO (Affirmative Action Program for the Black People in Federal and State Institutions of Higher Education), that brought up the issue of identity and representation from an early age. She did so through a crayon set in different skin tones, which allowed children to represent characters with Black skin in their drawings.
Global Voices talked to the professor from the Universidade Federal do Rio Grande do Sul (UFRGS), via video conference, about this creation and her research career. Here are the main points of the interview.
The researcher says that the idea for the creation of crayons came from discomfort from the fact that in Brazil, until then, there was only one pencil that was considered “skin color”: a pink pencil used to represent white skin. Outside Brazil, there were already pencil boxes with color palettes in different skin tones. However, Kaercher and Furtado's intention was to make this material available in Brazilian public school classrooms. Importing it would be expensive and time-consuming.
Crayon box designed by Gladis Kaercher and Tanara Furtado. Photo: Tanara Furtado/Used with permission
In December 2014, after discussions, meetings, and tests, the Pintkor crayon box with 12 shades of skin colors was launched. Today there is also a version with 24 colors. The set can be purchased online, but it's yet to be integrated into public schools.
The professor says:
O que eu acho fantástico nessa invenção era uma concretude que fazia os professores poderem discutir com as crianças pequenas as questões raciais. Porque pintar o corpo humano em um desenho é uma coisa concreta para uma criança, é palpável, fácil de desencadear a discussão. Para criança pequena, falar de raça, racismo, etnia, isso tudo é uma abstração absurda. Mas falar da cor da pele, da cor que se usa para pintar, é uma concretude. A criança pinta. Ela vai falar por que está pintando daquela cor, e o professor pode, então, entrar com perguntas e estabelecer esse diálogo.
What I think is fantastic about this invention is a concreteness that made teachers able to discuss racial issues with young children. Since painting the human body in a drawing is a concrete thing for a child, it is palpable, easy to trigger the discussion. For a small child, talking about race, racism, ethnicity, all of this is an absurd abstraction. But talking about skin color, the color one uses to paint, is a concreteness. The child paints. They will talk about why they are painting that color, and the teacher can then enter questions and establish this dialogue.
As a black woman, Kaercher found herself taking on the racial issue as a theme for her research when she became a professor at the Universidade Federal do Rio Grande do Sul, where she still works today.
In her Ph.D. thesis, she researched a program to support public school libraries in Brazil and the racial and gender issues in their collections. The researcher questioned how the books available in these spaces, which contained Black characters, were received by the children in the classrooms, what effect they had on them, and how they perceived them.
A tese, então, se desdobra em pesquisas que eu vou continuando, pensando a representação do negro na literatura e outros marcadores identitários. Ali eu me dou conta da importância desses artefatos [livros infantis contendo personagens negros] para a educação das relações raciais.
The thesis unfolds in researches that I am continuing, thinking about the representation of Black people in literature and other identity markers. Then, I realized the importance of these artefacts [children's books containing Black characters] for the education of racial relations.
When questioned about what motivated her to become a researcher, Kaercher answers:
A necessidade. Eu sempre fui uma professora inquieta. O primeiro ponto da minha vida é ser professora. Por ser professora e ter um desejo profundo que meus alunos aprendessem de fato, eu sempre fui uma professora inquieta, incomodada. Sempre saí buscando materiais, alternativas, respostas. E isso fez com que eu precisasse entender determinados processos da minha sala de aula. É assim que eu me torno uma pesquisadora. Sempre pensando na dimensão concreta da minha atuação docente.
The necessity. I have always been a restless teacher. The first thing in my life is to be a teacher. Because I'm a teacher and have a deep desire that my students actually learn things, I've always been restless. I have always searched for materials, alternatives, answers. And this made me need to understand certain processes in my classroom. This is how I became a researcher. Always thinking about the concrete dimension of my teaching.
Working for 26 years in a university that has existed for nearly 85 years, Kaercher says she knows by heart the names of all the Black colleagues she has had because the list is so short:
Saber o nome dos meus colegas negros é profundamente dolorido. Não há outro modo de dizer. Dói saber o nome. Dói. O que para um colega branco é inimaginável. Eu posso nominar [todos] meus colegas negros. Isso é profundamente assustador, numa universidade que tem quase 3 mil professores.
Knowing the names of my Black colleagues is deeply painful. There is no other way to put it. It hurts to know the name. It hurts. Which for a white colleague is unimaginable. I can name [all] my Black colleagues. That is deeply frightening, in a university that has almost 3,000 professors.
And there is yet another point that mainly crosses Black, female researchers, according to her:
Nós, mulheres, somos educadas para a humildade. Eu acho a humildade uma coisa preciosa, mas às vezes o excesso de humildade nos tira a altivez. Nós, mulheres negras, principalmente, somos educadas para desaparecer. E isso é tão marcante, que a gente leva muito tempo para perceber determinadas características que nos prejudicam.
We women are educated for humility. I think being humble is a precious thing, but sometimes an excess of humility takes away our pride. We, Black women, especially, are educated to disappear. And this is so remarkable that it takes us a long time to realize certain characteristics that harm us.
As a woman, the professor says that in addition to the racial issue, the gender issue has also arisen in her academic path:
Há questões da vida acadêmica que atravessam mais fortemente os percursos femininos. Uma das questões que atravessou o meu percurso acadêmico foi a maternidade. Eu era uma mulher que queria ser mãe. Algo da maternidade, sobretudo nos primeiros anos, é da ordem de uma demanda importante, que é física — um filho que berra e um seio que derrama leite.
There are issues of academic life that cut more strongly across women's journeys. One of the issues that has crossed my academic path is motherhood. I wanted to be a mother. Something about motherhood, especially in the early years, is of the order of an important demand, which is physical — a child that cries and a breast that spills milk.
When she became pregnant for the second time, with twins, Kaercher remembers that she was surprised by the way the news was received in the academic environment. She remembers one person said they didn't know whether to compliment her on the announcement.
E eu disse para ela: pode me cumprimentar, porque a pessoa mais interessada em ser doutora antes do nascimento desse bebê sou eu. Nenhum “homem grávido”, esperando filhos gêmeos, daria essa resposta. Eu sabia que, sim, aconteceria um período em que a minha carreira ficaria quase em stand by após o nascimento dos bebês. O homem segue tocando sua vida acadêmica normalmente depois de ser pai. Esse é um forte atravessamento de gênero.
And I told them: you can compliment me because the person most interested in becoming a doctor before this baby is born is me. No “pregnant man,” expecting twins, would give that answer.  I knew that, yes, there would be a period when my career would be almost on stand-by after the birth of the babies. Men go on with their academic lives as usual after becoming parents. This is a strong gender issue.
Among her biggest dreams as a researcher today, Kaercher hopes to have crayons in various shades of skin distributed by the Brazilian government to public schools, to have more Black colleagues to the point that it's impossible to record all their names, and to find more women in management positions at the university.
For other women who are academics or wish to enter academic life, the professor says:
Dentro da universidade é fundamental construir-se em rede, em grupo. A solidão não é um imperativo da carreira acadêmica, da intelectualidade negra acadêmica. Hoje ela é uma escolha, mais do que nunca. Então, o conselho é: a solidão não é uma parte integrante do pacote. A gente pode furar essa solidão e criar pontes magníficas.
Within the university, it is essential to build yourself within a network, in a group. Loneliness is not an imperative of the academic career, of Black academic intellectuality. Today it is a choice, more than ever. So, the advice is: loneliness is not an integral part of the package. We can break through that loneliness and create magnificent bridges.
Name: Gladis Kaercher
Research field: Universidade Federal do Rio Grande do Sul (Brazil), Education, focusing on children's education and literature, anti-racist education, identity, and difference.
Where to find out more: Plataforma Lattes

author: Talita Fernandes


text:
China state media erases references to fictitious Swiss biologist · Global Voices
Hong Kong Free Press

COVID 19. Free Image from PXphere
The original version of this post was written by Rhoda Kwan and published in Hong Kong Free Press on August 11, 2021. The following version was edited is published by Global Voices under a content partnership agreement with HKFP.
Several Chinese state media outlets have scrubbed references to a Swiss biologist ‘Wilson Edwards’ from articles published in recent weeks.
The move comes after the Swiss embassy issued a statement on August 10 saying no Swiss citizen by the name of Wilson Edwards exists, and no academic articles had been written by any biologist with that name.
The Swiss embassy’s statement read,
In the last several days, a large number of press articles and social media posts citing an alleged Swiss biologist have been published in China. While we appreciate the attention on our country, the Embassy of Switzerland must, unfortunately, inform the Chinese public that this news is false.
A screenshot of the now-deleted ‘Wilson Edwards’ Facebook page via HKFP.
In a Facebook post from July 24, an account under the name ‘Wilson Edwards’ claimed to have witnessed the US attempting to ‘politicize’ the World Health Organization's (WHO) continuing efforts to uncover the origins of the coronavirus. The ‘biologist’ said,
I have the impression that WHO’s new plans, which include lab audits, are largely politically motivated… The WHO sources told me that the U.S is so obsessed with attacking China on the origin-tracing issue that it is reluctant to open its eyes to the data and findings.
It also questioned the international health body’s independence, accusing the US of attempting to place its own experts on the team responsible for the second phase of the probe.
The post also quoted a ‘source’ as saying that US President Biden would ‘spare no effort’ to ‘rebuild US influence in the organization’ and ‘seek to dominate key issues.’
While the fictitious account has been removed from Facebook, the post is accessible on a Twitter account attributed to ‘Wilson Edwards':
#COVID19 #COVID19nsw @WHO @DrTedros @FauciFan As scientific issues continue to be politicized, I have no doubt that this advisory group would be succumbed to a political tool. https://t.co/zjYDZcQLhm pic.twitter.com/i4rYkzAv2m
— WilsonEdwards (@WilsonE84957402) July 24, 2021
@ZhaoyinFeng, a reporter from BBC, pointed out quotes from ‘Wilson Edwards’ first appeared in a news outlet Voice of South Pacific owned by Beijing Zhong Xin Chinese Media Service Company, which publishes news stories about Fiji:
Voice of South Pacific 南太之声 news app published an English article quoting Edwards’ Facebook post on July 27, three days before Chinese state media China News Service reported on the claims. VSP’s report didn’t cite an author but listed an editor called “GAVIN”. pic.twitter.com/J8ylf9zIlm
— Zhaoyin Feng 馮兆音 (@ZhaoyinFeng) August 10, 2021
The claims were later picked up by Chinese state media, including People’s Daily, China Daily, Global Times, and CGTN, which all accused the US of politically manipulating the WHO’s probe into the origins of COVID-19. One week after the original post, People’s Daily published an opinion article with the headline, ‘US attempts to overturn report, leveraging WHO into political tool: Swiss biologist’.
The Swiss embassy also pointed that the ‘Wilson Edwards’ Facebook account was created on the same day of the post and only had three friends: ‘It is likely that this Facebook account was not opened for social networking purposes’, said their statement.
It also called on the Chinese press and netizens to take down posts featuring the disputed biologist, saying it is likely a case of ‘fake news’.
Looking for Wilson Edwards, alleged ?? biologist, cited in press and social media in China over the last several days. If you exist, we would like to meet you! But it is more likely that this is a fake news, and we call on the Chinese press and netizens to take down the posts. pic.twitter.com/U6ku5EGibm
— Embassy of Switzerland in Beijing (@SwissEmbChina) August 10, 2021
Earlier this year, a team of WHO experts carried out a probe in Wuhan, where the coronavirus was first detected. The investigation report said the theory that the virus leaked from a lab was ‘unlikely’. However, critics have questioned whether China granted the team full access to the available data. Beijing has since rejected plans for the second phase of the probe.
As of August 11, CGTN, People’s Daily, and China Daily all appeared to have removed references to Edwards from their articles, while the Global Times removed an article by CGTN from its site altogether.
The removed article, entitled ‘Covid-19 origin tracing: Claim emerges of “intimidation” from the US,’ was last accessible on the Global Times on Tuesday afternoon. Copies were still available via Google’s cache tool.
HKFP reached out to the outlets for comment.
The debacle is the latest development in an ongoing dispute between China and the US about the origins of the coronavirus, in which both sides have claimed the virus was leaked from a lab on the other’s soil.
Although state media outlets have either deleted or removed references on their reports to ‘Wilson Edwards’, Hu Xijin, the chief editor of Global Times, wrote a Chinese post on Weibo arguing that the biologist was using a pseudonym for protection:
那个账号使用化名，这远没有一些人所说的那么重要，这在互联网时代是披露内情者常用的自我保护方法之一。最重要的是，那篇文章讲的事情是不是真的。当然了，如果该文作者能够署上真名，文章的冲击力会更大，但如果他说的都是真的，就是不敢署真名，传递给我们的额外信息就是：美国的打压太严厉了，围绕溯源问题上已经在西方形成了广泛的寒蝉效应，没有人或者很少有人敢使用真名说真话了。
The pseudo account is not that important; it is a self-protection measure adopted by whistleblowers in the Internet era. What matters most is the validity of the content. Of course, if the writer can use a real name, the post would have a more significant impact. But if what he said is real, but he dare not use his real name, the incident reveals that the influence of the U.S is too repressive that it has resulted in a silencing effect in Western society. As a result, very few dare to use real names to speak the truth.
This is not the first time Beijing has relied on Western ‘expert’ personas to bolster its narrative.
In April, a CGTN article written by a French journalist named Laurene Beaumond disputed reports of mass human rights abuses against Uighur Muslims and other ethnic minorities in China’s Xinjiang region. Beaumond had allegedly lived in the region for years.
French paper Le Monde later ran an article saying that no French reporter by that name existed. In response, the Global Times published a piece asserting that the journalist was a real person using a pseudonym and demanded Le Monde apologize.

author: Hong Kong Free Press