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One Palestinian-Syrian Man’s Agonizing Decision to Leave His Home Behind · Global Voices
PRI/PRX's The World

Ahmad Shihabi
A lot has been written about refugees in the last two years. But rarely do we hear from the refugees themselves in more than just soundbites. GlobalPost, an international news organization within the PRI family, commissioned essays from five young Syrians who all made the difficult decision to leave their homes — and undertake a menacing journey out of the country, to Turkey, to Greece and across southern Europe.
This essay by Ahmad Shihabi, 28, was originally published on PRI.org on May 31, 2016, and is republished here with permission.
I am Palestinian Syrian. That means I am a refugee twice over.
My family first became refugees in 1948. They left Palestine to escape the violence and upheaval that took place during the creation of Israel. We call it the Nakba. Like many other Palestinians at the time, my family fled to Syria. They eventually settled in Yarmouk, an unofficial refugee camp south of Damascus.
That’s where I was born, in 1987. Yarmouk is like a city. It has schools and hospitals and other services all within about a one-mile area. It’s populated by both Palestinians and Syrians.
I finished my high school education in the camp’s school. While I was studying, when I was 16, I started my first job in my uncle’s publishing house as a typist. I worked there for six years. Then I moved to work in the journalism field with one of the Palestinian magazines that was based in the camp. I was an editor. I tried to collect some money to be able to reach university and complete my studies as a journalist. But it was too expensive. And once the Syrian crisis began, it was nearly impossible for me to even get to the university from where I lived in Yarmouk. My dreams were on hold.
The Syrian revolution started in March 2011. The pro-democracy protests eventually spread to Damascus, close to the Yarmouk camp. We as Palestinians supported the Syrian people. But at the same time, we didn’t like taking a public position against the Syrian regime. The government considers us guests, even though many of us have lived in Yarmouk our whole lives. So getting involved in the conflict could be dangerous for us. If we decided to take action, the whole camp would be under fire. So instead we worked to make our area a safe place for the Syrian people who were fleeing regime attacks on neighboring towns and cities.
We started bringing people into our homes, schools and hospitals. We gave them food, medicine and everything they needed. We received more than 200,000 people. We were refugees taking in refugees. And we succeeded for one year in keeping our area safe. Mostly. During this time, this first year of the conflict, we had some rockets and bombs fall on Yarmouk. Two of them struck near our house. At the beginning of 2012, my brothers and I decided to send my parents and little sisters to our relatives in Lebanon. It was the last time I saw them. After that the Lebanese government closed its borders to Palestinians.
“It was a scene that reminded all of us of the photos we had seen of the Palestinian Nakba in 1948.”
I call my family every day. I miss them every moment. They supported me in all of my choices in this life. I could never have imagined that we’d be separated like this. I last saw my sisters when they were 6 and 12 years old. They never got to complete their education. My father and brothers are working to secure a decent life for all of them in Lebanon. But it is hard. They don’t have a residency permit or work permits because they are Palestinians. Maybe someday I can visit them again.
It wasn’t long until the safety we tried to create in Yarmouk fell apart completely. On Dec. 17, 2012, everything changed. The camp was directly shelled by Syrian military planes. Then opposition fighters entered the camp, declaring that the area was now under their control. It was no longer safe for us civilians. Yarmouk had become a front line in the Syrian conflict.
The next day we watched as what seemed like a million people left their homes, carrying what they could, and walked out of Yarmouk. It was a scene that reminded all of us of the photos we had seen of the Palestinian Nakba in 1948. After three days on the road, many of us couldn’t find a safe place to sleep. So we went home. I returned to Yarmouk with about 50,000 other people. We stayed under partial siege for six months. We went out every day to find food and other basic supplies, crossing both regime and opposition checkpoints inside and outside the Yarmouk camp. It was terrifying. We walked beneath the eyes of snipers and were at their mercy. We couldn’t see them clearly but we felt their presence and witnessed their actions many times. They could finish our life whenever they wanted. But it was either risk getting killed by a gun or risk dying of hunger.
Finally, in June 2013, I left my house and the camp completely. I went to Damascus, where my girlfriend and I rented a flat. The flat was in the neighborhood of Qudsia, which was under opposition control. But they had a truce so it was safer. It was still hard to live though. We worked at the same magazine. Both of us got $175 per month. Our flat’s rent alone was $200.
After struggling to get by there for about a year, a friend of mine came to me and asked if I wanted to leave the country. I told him that it was impossible for me because I was Palestinian. I wouldn’t be allowed into either Lebanon or Jordan. As Palestinian refugees in Syria, we don’t have formal papers and so are not recognized by other countries. This makes it difficult to move around. He then suggested Turkey. But Turkey was far and you’d have to cross through a lot of dangerous parts of the country. I asked him how we’d do it. “Illegally,” he told me. “I have a smuggler. He will take us to the Turkish border.”
“I had never experienced things like this, terrorists and military operations, weapons in the streets. Before, the children had gone to school. Syrians are simple people, not extremists. They accepted each other without consideration of race or religion or even nationality. Now I can see that Syria is truly destroyed.”
It was very hard to decide if I wanted to leave this country without coming back again. I was born here. I studied here. I worked here. Even if it’s dangerous, it is my country. I like this country. My first steps in this life were on this land. And, most important for me, Syria — especially the Yarmouk camp — is my strongest connection to Palestine.
I told my girlfriend about the idea. At first she didn’t accept it because the Syrian north was under the control of ISIS and it seemed impossible to pass through checkpoints without being caught. That’s what we had heard on the news. I told her there was a smuggler and I got assurances that everything would be under control.
“If you want to go, I will be with you,” she said. It scared me to risk her life as well as mine. She is a Christian and if she was discovered by ISIS they might kill us. We agonized over the decision for two months. Finally, we decided that we would leave Syria illegally. The smuggler told us that we’d leave on the first of September. He said my girlfriend had to wear a hijab and that we also had to hide our phones and memory cards. All we could take with us was some clothes.
The smuggler gave us a plan for the journey. We would drive from Damascus to Manbij, which is halfway between Aleppo and Raqqa. Raqqa is where ISIS is based. From Manbij, we would walk over the border and into Turkey.
The street Ahmad Shihabi left in Yarmouk, Syria. The area had been damaged by airstrikes and fighting between the regime and rebels. Photo by Ahmad Shihabi
At 7 a.m. on Sept. 1, 2014, we left. We did not know if we would ever see home again. We drove for more than 13 hours with seven other friends and more than 50 people who lived in Manbij and were going home. They didn’t know anything about who we were or where we were going. The smuggler was the driver. We passed 47 regime checkpoints. Everything was under the control of the smuggler. He took our ID cards and our money. We paid more than $50 per person so the smuggler could bribe his way through the checkpoints. I think the other people knew that we were trying to leave the country. They could tell we were Palestinians. And no Palestinians live in Manbij. But they didn’t say anything.
While we drove, passing through checkpoints, we saw the massive scale of destruction across the country. We drove through many places, including Homs and Hama. I was shocked by the devastation. Why? Is this just for power? Or the price of freedom? Anyone can say what they want but we have one result: Our country is destroyed. After we passed all the regime’s checkpoints, the driver warned us that we had entered ISIS territory. After about a mile, we arrived at another checkpoint. Everyone was nervous. ISIS doesn’t allow women to sit near men, so all the women backed up and sat down at the end of the bus. I saw one soldier who looked very young. His gun was taller than him. He just checked the men’s ID cards and then told us we could go.
“Every step I took it seemed like I was losing one of my memories of this country. Every step I took I felt I was failing my friends, my family, my home at Yarmouk.”
We were very lucky that nothing more happened. And we were relieved because we didn’t expect any more checkpoints. But I was also shocked. How can they let a child hold a gun and give him the power to kill people? I had never experienced things like this, terrorists and military operations, weapons in the streets. Before, the children had gone to school. Syrians are simple people, not extremists. They accepted each other without consideration of race or religion or even nationality. Now I can see that Syria is truly destroyed.
We arrived at Manbij at 8 p.m. the same day. The smuggler took us to another smuggler. He told him that we were going to Turkey. We followed this new smuggler to his car. He drove us to the Turkish border. He told us, don’t be afraid. All we have to do is walk a mile, through the darkness. He told us that we couldn’t use any small light, no phone, nothing — or the Turkish police would see us. They were watching.
So we walked. We walked for one hour. Every step I took it seemed like I was losing one of my memories of this country. Every step I took I felt I was failing my friends, my family, my home at Yarmouk. Then I heard someone whisper, “It’s Turkey.”
Ahmad received his residency visa, which will allow him to stay in Germany for at least three years, a couple weeks ago. He is now living in Greiz, a small town of about 20,000 people in eastern Germany, not far from the Czech Republic. He plans to move to Berlin.

author: PRI/PRX's The World


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Surrounded by Rubble, This Flower Seller’s Dreams Are on Hold in Syria · Global Voices
Syria Untold

Nour, 22 years old. Douma, Eastern Ghouta, Syria. “I took up photography to convey our living situation to the outside world.” 22 January, 2016.
This story was originally published on Syria Untold, an independent storytelling project exploring the Syrian struggle, and is republished on Global Voices under a content-sharing agreement.
Nour, a student of economics at the University of Damascus, used to sell flowers to cover his expenses in 2011. He was 17 years old with dreams of leaving Syria for another country to continue his studies.
At the start of the 2011 uprising, Nour was convinced the end of President Bashar al-Assad's decades-old regime was in sight and that soon Syrians would be able to begin rebuilding their society into a free and democratic one. Like many other Syrians, Nour put his personal goals on hold for the foreseeable future and stopped selling roses to finance his education. Instead, he joined the ranks of the non-violent resistance movement against Assad, changing his life forever.
Day after day, the regime transformed the revolution into a war and took with it a generation of young men, either through compulsory military conscription or creating conditions that made them join the armed opposition.
Consequently, Nour had to hide and move from place to place, all the while planning protests. The following year, the war transformed from simply suppressing the demonstrations to displacing people during military campaigns. Nour tried to flee the country but was unable to. He was blacklisted by the government for his involvement in peaceful demonstrations and his rejection of the military service.
War intensified in Douma, a city that lies six miles from Damascus. Assad’s forces imposed a full siege on the city, starting on October 25, 2012, that was carried out in conjunction with aerial campaigns and a complete blockade. Nour, the flower seller, began smelling death at every turn, seeing missiles kill everyone in the buildings. The questions he began to ask were limited to weaponry and death: “Is that a ground-to-ground missile? Or a barrel bomb? Am I afraid of dying under the rubble?”
Nour, 22 years old. Douma, Eastern Ghouta, Syria. “I wish that when the war is over, I can return to pursue my dreams.” 22 January, 2016.
Because Nour no longer sold flowers, he found alternative means of employment; he learned photography. He learned this new skill in order to show the world what is happening in Douma. For the women, children, and the elderly who are faced with these tragedies daily, Nour practices this profession to this day.
Nour still has hope for salvation: he has kept his dreams and plans for the future alive despite the tragedies he has bore witness to during the war. The last five years may have made his soul older than his age. Living in besieged Douma for three years, he has no hope but to one day see his dreams renewed.

source: news-globalvoices

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

author: Syria Untold


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The Quirky Tranquility of Japanese Suburbia in Photos · Global Voices
Nevin Thompson

Suburban Japan Tumblr blog archive
The Japanese Suburbia Tumblr blog does exactly what its name suggests: it serves up images of the less seen, more quotidian scenes of the Japanese “suburbs” (although many of the photos are taken from quiet residential neighborhoods in the heart of Tokyo).
The Tumblr account has no description; the images speak for themselves.
As one Japan-based Twitter users says:
Keep getting lost in the Japanese Suburbia tumblr when I find myself clicking to it. https://t.co/azFjKQRhnK pic.twitter.com/rKqmuONakE
— Mulboyne (@Mulboyne) June 1, 2016
The Japanese Suburbia blog curates images found on Tumblr and Flickr, and there seem to be a few by the author of the blog as well. Far from being boring, many of the photos show of the often quirky character of suburban Japan.
Here we see the view of the Tokyo Sky Tree from the relatively suburban streets of Asakusa, the old “shitamchi” part of Tokyo, east of Ueno.
Here is a quiet residential scene in Yushima Tenmangu, in central Tokyo. The houses are flying flags, likely in commemoration of a national holiday:
Yushima Tenmangu. By Flickr user Yamauchi. License: CC BY 2.0. Found on Japanese Suburbia.
Next, Japanese Suburbia has found a photo of motorways in Shinjuku. Forty years ago this would have been considered a suburban area of Tokyo.
A photo posted by Tokyo, Japan (@446i) on
Next, a shop hording in Shimokitazawa advertising cockroach and termite sprays. Shimokitazawa is located in Setagaya, a suburban district in Tokyo.
A deli in Chofu, a city to the west of Tokyo:
Here's a photo of typical shopping arcade that could be in any city in Japan, once again in Chofu:
A typical Japanese residential scene; the photo was taken in Takamatsu, on the island of Shikoku:
A photo taken “someplace in the neighborhood” during the Golden Week extended holiday in May:
A collection of photos shopping arcades typical to any neighborhood in suburban Tokyo:
Many suburban commuter cities have large shopping areas built up around a central train station:
Sunset in suburbia. Power lines criss-cross most streets in Japan:
The Japanese Suburbia blog also features many images of Japan's more whimsical character, such as this plastic model of a crawfish being transported somewhere by mini-truck:

author: Nevin Thompson


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Colorful, Human-Powered Rickshaws Rule the Road in Bangladesh’s Capital Dhaka · Global Voices
Pantha Rahman Reza

Rickshaws in Dhaka. Image by blackthorne57 used under Creative Commons license (CC BY-NC 2.0)
Dhaka, the capital of Bangladesh, is known as the city of mosques and the city of the Mughal architecture. Being one of the most populated cities in the world — with the bumper-to-bumper traffic to prove it — Dhaka also has another identity: the city of rickshaws.
These passenger vehicles, which are pedaled by a driver, are everywhere in Dhaka. There are an estimated 600,000 rickshaws in the city, though less than 100,000 are licensed. Compare that to the 37 rickshaws on the roads in Dhaka in 1941.
Dhaka's roads are packed with rickshaws in all hues, contributing to its traffic woes. Image by Kazi Minhazur Rahman used under Creative Commons license (CC BY-NC 2.0).
Dhaka, home to mostly flat roads and narrow lanes, does not have enough public transportation for everyone. Rickshaws rule here as the fare is comparatively low. For that reason, there are so many rickshaws in the country, but the packs of brightly decorated rickshaws do contribute to the city's traffic woes. On the forum Sydney Cyclist, one user described the scene:
When I say that rickshaws are everywhere, I do mean everywhere; aside from the sound of car-horns, the constant sonic backdrop is a chorus of tinkling bicycle bells and the tin carcases of empty rickshaws rattling over the uneven roads.
Here is a short documentary on YouTube uploaded by Abstract Films, which follows three different rickshaw drivers through the streets of Dhaka as they talk about their lives and the challenges of the profession.
Rickshaws came to Bangladesh in the early 1930s. Till the early 1970s, rickshaws were the common mode of transportation in Dhaka. Even today, this inexpensive, environment friendly, non-polluting form of transportation is a way of life for thousands of people. Currently, 40% people commute in the city by rickshaw.
Rickshaw art. Image by Anduze traveler used under Creative Commons license (CC BY-NC 2.0).
In the early days of rickshaws, they were left more or less undecorated. Sometime in the 1960s decorative motifs on the back of the rickshaws began to appear. This decoration is now a staple of urban art. Film stars, landscape, animals, contemporary political affairs, pictures and even Osama Bin Laden add color to the city's transportation. This Facebook page titled “Rickshaw Paint/Art of Bangladesh” highlights different colourful rickshaw motifs found across Dhaka.
Rickshaw paintings have also been used as protest. The art is not limited to just rickshaws, either. It is also an increasingly popular theme in fashion, with rickshaw motifs now found on saris, shalwar kameez and kurtis.
A rickshaw puller takes short break to rejuvenate him for the rest of the day's hardship. Images by Mirza Ferdous Alam used under Creative Commons license (CC BY-NC 2.0).
There is even a rickshaw graveyard in Dhaka. Don’t you believe? Here's one photo of it:
Rickshaw graveyard Bangladesh ….. pic.twitter.com/NpY6I5dBYj
— Spooky Places (@SpookyPIaces) May 14, 2016

author: Pantha Rahman Reza


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How Russians Learned to Laugh About the End of Money · Global Voices
Kevin Rothrock

There's no money, but if there were money, maybe it would look like this. Image by Kevin Rothrock.
Late last month, Prime Minister Dmitry Medvedev—Russia’s forgotten third president—had a memorable run-in with a local woman in Crimea, who confronted him about the apparently low pensions paid to retired persons in Russia. Spontaneous encounters with ordinary citizens are always difficult for politicians, and Medvedev—a man whose greatest political asset in Russia has been his absence of charisma—handled the incident as awkwardly as you might expect.
“We are being mistreated,” the woman told the prime minister. “What is 8,000 rubles [$120]? It's nothing!” In what has become one of the most popular memes of the year, Medvedev answered, “But there’s just no money. We’ll find the money, and then we’ll readjust pensions. You hang in there! I wish you well and good health!”
Dmitry Medvedev meets the people in Crimea. May 23, 2016.
There are now multiple parties vying for patents based on excerpts from Medvedev’s response. According to reports, a lawyer in St. Petersburg applied to Russia’s Federal Service for Intellectual Property, commonly known as “Rospatent,” for the rights to the slogan “You hang in there!” The lawyer, a man named Viktor Pasternak, reportedly thinks he’ll be able to resell the patent rights to businesses working in banking and food service. (The company “Apex Group” has apparently filed a separate application for a patent on the slogan “There’s just no money, but you hang in there.”)
Jokes about Medvedev’s unfortunate remarks in Crimea have been popping up regularly in Russia for the past several weeks. On June 9, the telecommunications operator Tele2 fired its Russian advertiser for launching a billboard campaign that adapted Medvedev’s comments to promote Tele2. Banners displayed throughout Moscow read, “Competitors, but you hang in there! Wishing you well and good health!” (The ad campaign was dedicated to a recent study by the Russian government that found the operator’s mobile Internet speeds to be the fastest in the city.)
In late May, the employees at Alfa-Bank also published a joke on the company's social media accounts lampooning Medvedev’s comments. (An Internet hoax later claimed that Alfa-Bank replaced the language displayed on its ATMs with excerpts from Medvedev’s remarks.)
Earlier this week, on June 6, the Russian comedian Semen Slepakov released a satirical song on YouTube using excerpts from Medvedev’s comments. The song is composed as an address by the prime minister to the Russian people. Each verse ends with the phrase “But there is no money.”
See below for a (loose) rhyming translation of Slepakov’s lyrics:
Здравствуйте все российские люди, я ваш премьер.
Чтобы жили вы лучше, мы приняли ряд эффективных мер.
Круглосуточно, не смыкая глаз, мы работали,
занимались мы вашими нуждами и заботами.
И я рад сообщить вам итоги работы последних лет:
Результаты есть, просто денег нет…..
Хорошего вам настроения
Хорошего вам настроения
Хорошего вам настроения
Вы держитесь здесь, просто денег нет
Всё рассчитано, всё работает как часы у нас:
Продаётся лес, продаётся нефть, продаётся газ,
Заключаются сделки крупные с иностранцами,
И текут отовсюду большие потоки финансов к нам.
Такого подъёма страна не видела много лет,
Чем гордиться – есть, просто денег нет.
Хорошего вам настроения (держитесь там)
Хорошего вам настроения (просто денег нет)
Хорошего вам настроения Вы держитесь здесь, просто денег нет
В общем, такие у нас хорошие новости,
В отпуск уходим мы радостно, с чистой совестью,
В награду за то, что работали мы, не смыкая глаз,
Ждут роскошные яхты и самолёты нас.
Ждут Мальдивы, Монте-Карло, Лондон и Пхукет.
Мы бы взяли вас, просто денег нет.
Хорошего вам настроения (держитесь там)
Хорошего вам настроения (просто денег нет)
Хорошего вам настроения Вы держитесь здесь, просто денег нет
Greetings, people of Russia. I’m your prime minister.
To improve your lives, there’s a lot to do and administer.
Around the clock, not a wink of sleep, we’ve slaved
To meet your needs, and keep the roads well paved.
And I’m pleased to report, but you know it’s kinda funny…
We’ve got results, but it’s just: there is no money.
Best of luck to you!
Best of luck to you!
Best of luck to you!
You hang in there. There’s just no money.
Everything’s set. Our stuff you can’t outclass.
We’re selling oil, we’re selling lumber, we’re selling gas.
We’re closing big deals with all the foreigners.
The sanctions are dead—you can call the coroners.
The country hasn’t boomed like this for many years.
There’s reason for pride, there’s just no money. Cheers!
Best of luck to you! (You hang in there!)
Best of luck to you! (There’s just no money.)
Best of luck to you!
You hang in there. There’s just no money.
Generally speaking, the news these days is great.
We’re off on holiday, our spirits you can’t deflate.
We got awards for working all through the nights.
Now awaiting us are yachts and planes and sights.
In London and Monte Carlo, in lands of milk and honey.
We’d take you with us, but it’s just: there is no money.
Best of luck to you! (You hang in there!)
Best of luck to you! (There’s just no money.)
Best of luck to you!
You hang in there. There’s just no money.

author: Kevin Rothrock


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Mexico, on the Mountaintop, or in the Abyss? · Global Voices
J. Tadeo

“Slaying Mexico” meme from the cover of Time Magazine “Saving Mexico”. Widely shared on Twitter.
At the end of 2012, Enrique Peña Neto became president of Mexico, nominated by the Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI) after 12 years of governance by the opposition right-wing National Action Party (PAN). Peña’s assumption of the presidential seat was praised by international public opinion: The Economist published an article entitled Mexico's Moment that continued to be referenced for months, and in January 2014 The Guardian asked whether Mexico’s moment had finally arrived.
Peña’s cabinet has been dedicated to releasing statistics indicating lower crime rates and economic stability. The president’s wife appears in glamor magazines showcasing the lifestyle to which many Mexicans aspire, meaning one of luxury and comfort, untouched by austerity, poverty, and violence. Public money is spent on advertising spots that praise the regime and other frivolities, as Twitter user Epigmenio Ibarra noted:
Derroche,frivolidad,spots, portadas,corrupción.Miles de millones de pesos gastados en la imagen de Peña. Ya basta! pic.twitter.com/HpfInJkV6j
— epigmenio ibarra (@epigmenioibarra) May 25, 2016
Splurging, frivolity, spots, covers, corruption. Billions of pesos spent on Peña’s image. Enough already!
The reality, however, is far from the image of a prospering country that the government is striving to project.
Several regions throughout the country are suffering the consequences of a non-international armed conflict that is denied officially, with tens of thousands of people gone missing and many others displaced from their communities. A recent example: the many who suffered collateral damage as a result of military operations during the search for the leader of one of the contested armed groups in the northern state of Sinaloa.
In September 2014, the forced disappearance of a group of 43 teachers’ college students in the western region of Guerrero warned of a resurgence of violence in an area marked by poverty and inequality. In the “Ayotzinapa case”, as this unfortunate event has come to be called, while over 100 people have been charged and are in custody, some for over a year, no specific conviction has yet been made. So the perception is that “the vulture of impunity” is flying free, preparing to continue its feast. Statistics indicate that more than 90% of reported crimes in Mexico go unpunished, which denotes a collapse in the justice system.
Mexico. National flag hoisted at half-mast in mourning. Photo taken by the author.
The eastern region of Veracruz is also wracked by violence and government ineptitude. Notable is the threat to freedom of expression embodied in the murder of journalists which we have reported on at Global Voices time and time again. During the current administration, 16 journalists have had their lives taken away in violent acts; many of them were recognized for their work criticizing PRI Governor Javier Duarte.
A journalistic investigation undertaken recently by Animal Político revealed the way in which Duarte’s government makes millions in public resources “disappear” by using “ghost companies”, even though local bodies responsible for audits argue that no irregularities have been found.
It is worth mentioning that the inefficiency of institutions is not exclusive to local government. The federation has shown that its structures are also riddled with corruption, and as proof of this is the escape, on not one but two occasions, of Joaquín “El Chapo” Guzmán, considered at one point the world’s most wanted criminal. Given the inability of “maximum security” prisons to detain the drug lord, and the justice system’s unfitness to try him for the litany of crimes with which he is charged, “El Chapo” will be extradited to the United States in the coming weeks, according to reports. If the extradition takes place, “El Chapo” will answer for his actions before the American people, and not Mexican citizens.
Against the background of government corruption and decay, stories of clashes between armed groups, extrajudicial executions, forced disappearances, and discoveries of clandestine graves have made the language of war omnipresent in the Spanish that Mexicans speak, reflecting the grim reality of their lives. As I pointed out in a piece written in collaboration with semiotics professor Gabriel Páramo:
No se trata de buscar conspiraciones, sino de analizar la realidad. Estamos en estado de guerra y la guerra tiene sus reglas, pero sobre todo, sus palabras. Términos para provocar miedo, confusión y, primordialmente, sumisión.
La realidad se construye a partir del lenguaje. Este hecho está perfectamente estudiado y explicado por la lingüística, la semiótica, la teoría de la comunicación y el psicoanálisis. Desde Slavoj Žižek hasta Chomsky, pasando por Lacan, De Kerckhove o Eco lo dicen: somos lo que hablamos.
It’s not about looking for conspiracies, but rather analyzing reality. We are in a state of war and war has its rules, but above all, its lexicon. Terms to provoke fear, confusion, and primarily, submission.
Reality is built on language. This fact is well-studied and explained by linguistics, semiotics, the theory of communication, and psychoanalysis. From Slavoj Žižek to Chomsky, passing by Lacan, from Kerckhove or Econ, they all say: we are what we speak.
The language of war in Mexico. Photo taken by the author.
In the economic sphere as well, international perceptions aren't good. Petróleos Mexicanos (PEMEX), the former “crown jewel” or “goose that lays golden eggs”, the most profitable state company in the country, is reportedly on the verge of bankruptcy because of the global drop in oil prices and other factors. The “energy reform” that the PRI government boasted of having achieved has not attracted the multimillion-dollar investments that were expected, nor has it resulted in savings for citizens, who continue to pay high prices for energy and gas in particular.
In the fashion of old PRI governments, Mexico's currency has been devalued considerably against the U.S. dollar, reducing the purchasing power of the Mexican middle class. The lower class, including those who earn the minimum wage, are paid an insulting 73.04 pesos for a day’s work (equivalent to $3.80* or €3.50)—yes, for an entire day’s work!
In light of these factors, we consider that there is sufficient proof, from a variety of angles, to demonstrate the difference between what the Mexican government projects and the reality lived by Mexican citizens.
This is about a non-international armed conflict with obvious economic consequences, and about the humanitarian crises in several regions that go unnoticed by international organizations due to the misrepresentation of facts and figures by the ravenous political parties that persist, feeding from the bottomless trough of corruption from which its members all benefit.
So when will Mexico’s true moment arrive? We do not know, but we will be there, attentive to the facts and ready to communicate them to the world from the perspective of the average citizen.

author: J. Tadeo


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No Country for Gags? Politicians Go After Indian Comedian Over Snapchat Video · Global Voices
Vishal Yashoda Manve

Screenshot from Tanmay Bhat's controversial snapchat video about sachin tendulkar and Lata Mangeshkar
In what could be termed an extreme knee-jerk reaction, Indian right-wing political parties armed with police complaints have threatened comedian Tanmay Bhat for posting a parody video on two prominent Indian celebrities. Evidently, imitation is not the sincerest form of flattery in India.
In the video, Bhat parodies both Indian cricket legend Sachin Tendulkar and 86-year-old Bollywood singer extraordinaire Lata Mangeshkar, depicting a war-of-words between the two characters. Among other things, he uses Game of Thrones references and describes the octogenarian singer as being “5000 years old,” playfully suggesting that she should die.
The video, which many see as condescending and non-humourous, has gone viral on social media platforms.
Police from India's financial capital, Mumbai, received two complaints about the video, one from a local politician belonging to Narendra Modi’s ruling Bhartiya Janata Party (BJP), who said the clip was defamatory. The other came from BJP ally and fringe group Shiv Sena from Maharashtra, which also threatened to attack Bhat physically for mocking both celebrities.
Watch the video below:
On 31 May, Indian police asked Google, Facebook and the now defunct Orkut to block stand-up comedian Tanmay Bhat's video. The companies have not made official statements on the matter, but emphasized to other media that they remove content when presented with a legitimate court order proving its illegality under local law. As of yet, there is no sign that any such order has been issued and the police has not taken any legal action against Tanmay Bhat.
This is not the first time Bhat has encountered challenges from powerful figures. Previously, Indian comedy group All India Bakchod (AIB), of which Bhat is a co-founder, was at the centre of controversy over its roast featuring Indian film industry Bollywood stars including Deepika Padukone, Ranveer Singh, Alia Bhatt, Arjun Kapoor and Karan Johar. A complaint was filed and an obscenity investigation over sexually explicit jokes was carried out by the police.
This January, the Bombay High Court had asked city police not to file charge sheet against all the actors and comedians of AIB charged with a ‘criminal case’.  Subsequently, the actors and comedians filed petitions in the Bombay high court seeking quashing of police complaints against them.
Free Speech vs. Inflammatory Content
The video has sparked India's latest row over freedom of expression, with actors, politicians, and fringe groups joining the fray, taking polarising sides of the debate.
The AIB video – #TanmayBhat needs to be made to grovel at Latajis feet and publicly apologize. Its appalling.
— Suchitra (@suchitrak) May 30, 2016
I supported #AIB during the roast controversy bcoz those ppl agreed to get mocked at. This is not a joke, this is clear insult. #TanmayBhat
— Niesha Wadhwani (@nieshawadhwani) May 30, 2016
You can dislike his joke, call him names, unfollow him, but don't penalise the guy for doing what he does..his job as a comedian!#tanmaybhat
— Anushka Manchanda (@IAmAnushka) May 30, 2016
Damage report so far of #TanmayBhat video:
Casualties = 0
Bloodshed = 0
Damage to public property = 0
Time wasted over issue = incalculable
— Ahmed Shariff (@TheAhmedShariff) May 30, 2016
Indian co-operative dairy brand Amul, known for its satirical take on current affair and trending events, summed up the incident with a poster rather aptly.
#Amul Topical : Controversial video receives backlash. pic.twitter.com/Vp52LpinZw
— Amul.coop (@Amul_Coop) May 31, 2016
(‘Joke se Jokhim tak Firse Amul Khao’ translates to ‘From humour to danger, drink Amul Again’ in English.)
Amit Varma, a freelance writer from Mumbai writes:
When Bhat subverts the notion of Sachin and Lata as hallowed figures who cannot be made fun of, he is really just telling us to laugh at ourselves. ‘Look at us, we’re so funny and pathetic. Hahaha.’ I think he does it really well—that Mangeshkar ‘face in water’ joke is observational genius—but even if you don’t, it should not matter. More power to him regardless.
Kaushik Moitra from Quint writes:
Even if we charge the comedian of public nuisance, which is a non-cognisable offence under the Indian Penal Code, the necessary ingredients of it are not fulfilled and the maximum punishment he can get is a mere fine of Rs 200.
India's opposition party Congress’ politician Shashi Tharoor wrote a Facebook post supporting freedom of speech:
“To categorise people on the basis of who we can or cannot joke about is also ridiculous. We have always been open to laughing at those we revere. Let’s not deify human beings as being above and beyond criticism, cartoons or jokes.”
Here's what Indian publication The Hindu wrote in an Op-ed titled “No Jokes: We are Indians”:
That the effect is to stifle freedom of expression, to force the next person to look over her shoulder before mocking the next public figure, is obvious and intended. To be mocked is the most trying way of being critiqued. One can ignore evenly stated takedowns — not spoofs that make folks laugh. To deal with mockery in a democratic society, one needs to be committed to a public culture of engagement, of openness to questioning. India’s public figures are clearly not. Politicians and celebrities (mainly film and cricket stars) have failed India not just by using the strongest arm of the law to curb expressions of humour aimed at them, thereby forcing self-censorship on what we may laugh about. [..] In an environment where possibly personal jokes are seen to warrant scrutiny and police action, no space can be available for shared humour, for comedy to evolve sufficiently so that the larger community internalises what is truly, even rockingly, funny and what’s not so progressive.
Here's how Ranjita Ganesan at Rediff summed up the debate:
In the Indian comedy space, matters of what is acceptable are still murky. Humour is regularly taken very seriously, with people seeking extreme action, including arrest and bans. AIB has been consistent in churning out content even if its quality is sometimes irregular.
India boasts of equality and cultural pluralism in the global arena as various ethnic communities reside in the South Asian country. But the latest spate of incidents, ranging from lynching attacks over beef consumption in Dadri, attacks on women activists, and police complaints against comedians are all indicative of a change in societal trends, perhaps stemming from the 2014 change in political leadership.
Needless to say, the controversy over the video has undoubtedly brought it more views and more attention than it would have received had Bhat's critics kept quiet.

author: Vishal Yashoda Manve


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Body Shaming on the Floor of Pakistan’s Parliament: ‘Someone Make This Tractor Trolley Keep Quiet’ · Global Voices
Sana Saleem

Parliament of Pakistan, Islamabad. Photo from Wikimedia Commons.
Pakistan's Defence Minister Khawaja Asif is under fire by opposition lawmakers and ordinary Pakistanis who think his recent remarks to Member of National Assembly Shireen Mazari during a session in parliament were inappropriate and misogynistic.
Asif, who also holds an additional position as minister of water and power, belongs to the ruling party Pakistan Muslim League Nawaz (PMLN), while Mazari is a member of the opposition Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI). Trying to silence Mazari on her protest against power outages during the religious month of Ramadan, Asif said, “Someone make this tractor trolley keep quiet,” in an attempt to body shame her. He also said, “Make her voice more feminine.”
Member of National Assembly Shireen Mazari. Screenshot from 92newshd.tv
On social media, Pakistanis slammed his mean-spirited words. Veteran journalist Hamid Mir used his Facebook page to condemn the comments and demand and apology:
Totally unacceptable! Strongly condemn Khwaja Asif‘s behaviour towards a female parliamentarian! Really sad.
Social activist Khurshid Bano thought Asif's behaviour was consistent with a man who has issues with women in authority:
Khwaja Asif's comments against Sherin Mazari are highly deplorable. Such comments show the treatment of men with women even in high position
— khurshid bano (@khurshidbano22) June 8, 2016
Others demanded Asif be ousted from the parliament as they felt he doesn't deserve to be in the parliament:
The people of NA110 must be ashamed of Khwaja Asif representing them in NA. Such a shame
— Changez Khan (@drchangezkhan) June 8, 2016
Voters of #KhwajaAsif must understand how much he pay respect to their women f he has such negative approach for a MP @ShireenMazari1 #Islam
— Naveed Hassan Lak (@naveed_lak) June 8, 2016
how such ill mannered people can be allowed in assembly #KhwajaAsif just don't deserve any place in assembly #بےشرم_چوہا_خواجہ_آصف
— aqsa abbasi (@aqsaabbasi4) June 8, 2016
Media reported that Mazari broke down after Asif's comments, which she said in a tweet was untrue:
News on TV channels that I broke down in NA bec of Kh Atif's remarks absolutely incorrect! We had a yelling match till Speaker intervened!
— Shireen Mazari (@ShireenMazari1) June 8, 2016
Women are a minority in the National Assembly, the lower house of parliament. A total of 60 of the 342 seats there are reserved by law for women, and women do run for the general seats, competing with male colleagues.
Despite the low number, women have held senior positions, including speaker of the house and prime minister; women have also been at the forefront of social movements in Pakistan, especially the fight for democracy, and have pushed for more representation in local bodies and the parliament.
In the past decade, the women's parliamentary caucus has worked on dozens of examples of legislation to ensure that women, minorities and children are protected under law. According to a monitoring report by the Free and Fair Election Network (FAFEN), female parliamentarians’ participation was higher than male participation during budget sessions, with women's participation at 64 per cent compared to 49 per cent of male parliamentarians.
Minister of Defence, Water & Power Khawaja Asif. Photo Global Panorama, Wikimedia Commons
Many have lauded Mazari for standing up to body shaming and misogyny. A lot of the anger towards Asif stems from the fact that he made these comments on the floor of the parliament. Despite warnings from the speaker of the assembly, Asif didn't apologise to Mazari directly on the floor of the parliament. The next day, Asif referred to her as a ‘heckler’ in his written apology to the parliament.
In a Facebook post, netizen Mariam Sid summed up Asif's actions as a bullying tactic:
The weakest of the weak; the ones who have no clue what intellect or intelligence is…usually indulge in name-calling or nasty jibes. It just proves their utter incompetence and a total lack of emotional intelligence. In other words, they're flashing a huge signal of failure in all facets of life. Personal and professional.
Exhibit A: Kh.Asif resorting to school play-ground bullying tactics by calling a female politician “tractor trolley”.
Judging from the outcry, however, it doesn't appear that Pakistan's young women and men are willing to turn a blind eye to this “bully.”

author: Sana Saleem


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Pakistan’s Censor Has a Thing or Two to Say About ‘Immoral’ Television · Global Voices
Anushe Noor

A poster for Udaari. Photo from Wikipedia.
The Pakistan Electronic Media Regulatory Authority (PEMRA), which polices the country's radio and television broadcasts, recently issued a “show-cause” notice to a TV channel regarding a drama series that portrays the issue of sexual abuse against children. The “show-cause” notice legally requires the network to justify why it was necessary to broadcast this material. If the network fails to satisfy the regulators, it faces fines and other penalties. PEMRA has also demanded that TV stations across the country explain why they air advertisements for contraceptives.
The TV series in question is “Udaari,” a drama show that focuses on the social and economic marginalization of women and also highlights issues like child labor and child abuse. PEMRA is demanding to know why the network airs the show, which it describes as “immoral content.”
The notice specifically addresses an episode that premiered on May 8, where one character, a man played by Ahsan Khan, preys on two children (the character's orphan niece and stepdaughter).
According to Sahil, a human rights group that focuses on child abuse, a total of 3,768 cases of child abuse were reported in Pakistan in 2015. Based on official records, Sahil estimates that roughly ten children were abused every day in Pakistan in 2015. (The number of actual abuses is likely much higher, given that many, if not most, instances of abuse are never reported.)
PEMRA argues that TV shows like “Udaari” “incite people towards pedophilia.”
PEMRA has faced criticism for its crackdown on “Udaari,” which enjoys significant popularity in Pakistan, and a reputation for taking on real social issues.
Twitter user Shahwar A. Khan, for instance, argued that there's nothing immoral about portraying sexual abuse against children:
Udaari isn't immoral. Immoral is our society where we silence someone who makes us see our ugly side. #IsupportUdaari
— Shahwar A. Khan. (@shahwarrasif) May 26, 2016
Saadia Khan, a human rights advocate, wrote on Twitter that she thinks PEMRA should turn its attention to more pressing issues:
PEMRA should focus on banning glorification of #misogyny and #patriarchy on tv rather than real issues #ISupportUdaari
— saadia khan (@swkkhan) May 18, 2016
Before long, a supportive hashtag began making the rounds on Twitter, as well:
#ISupportUdaari , one of the bravest shows I am enjoying right now, I hope #PEMRA notice is not going to stop the show #HUMTV
— Amillie Waadia (@amilliewaadia) May 20, 2016
#PEMRA won't speak against so many programs promoting religious extremism but were quick to find issues with #Udaari
#ISupportUdaari
— Furqan Amjad (@Furqan2070) May 20, 2016
Actress Urwa Hocane, who plays a role on “Udaari,” was not inclined to share regulators’ view that the show is “immoral”:
Repost @HELLO_Pak #ISupportUdaari pic.twitter.com/rmBU1qDPd4
— URWA HOCANE (@VJURWA) May 16, 2016
The scathing criticism received by PEMRA has also built a strong following for the series, which continues to air.
Dramatizing sexual abuse against children isn't the only thing that upsets PEMRA; the agency also opposes TV advertisements for contraceptives. Earlier this month, PEMRA tried to ban commercials for contraceptives by issuing a notice to stop the broadcast of all advertisements for contraception, citing the interests of “the innocent children” and their propensity to “get inquisitive” about sex, if informed about contraceptives. It didn't take long for Internet users to start mocking PEMRA.
Entrepreneur Shakir Husain seemed to think PEMRA's interest in birth control was too little and too late:
7.4 bn people on the planet. let that sink in. and PEMRA doesn't want contraceptives on TV. https://t.co/mnc62lV1la
— shakir husain (@shakirhusain) June 2, 2016
Twitter user Parvez A. Faruki joked that Turkey might be to blame, somehow:
Birth control is Treason according to Erdogan. Pemra got inspiration from him to ban Contraceptives? https://t.co/tkcKioeRCO
— Parvez A. Faruki (@pfaruki) May 30, 2016
Nazima Najee tried her hand at predicting the future:
Future of Pakistan in the light of Pemra recommendations. pic.twitter.com/YSA0vCbkCf
— Nazima Najee ❤ (@tajik707) May 30, 2016
Before long, PEMRA backed down slightly from its blanket prohibition on advertisements for contraceptives, making it permissible to air such commercials after 11 p.m. This concession has done little, however, to mollify the large segment of the public that resents the crackdown on television, viewing it as an effort to silence and shame those who want to discuss issues like child abuse.

author: Anushe Noor


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Popular Sports Website Goes Offline in Uzbekistan in Wake of Fan Controversy · Global Voices
Eurasianet

Football is popular in Uzbekistan, despite the country having never qualified for a World Cup. Wikipedia image.
The following is a partner post from EurasiaNet.org. Republished with permission.
A hugely popular football website in Uzbekistan appears to have been taken down after it became a mustering point for critics of the country’s sporting authorities.
Since June 4, visitors to uff.uz have been unable to access the site, which was a lively forum of discussion for soccer fans in Uzbekistan. The site drew around 20-30,000 visits daily.
Trouble began when a friendly match between Uzbekistan and Equatorial Guinea scheduled for June 2 was canceled without explanation. The national football federation tried to placate fans by telling them that tickets bought for the match could be used instead for a game against Syria to be played on September 2.
That did little to soothe bad tempers, however, and fans flocked to uff.uz to voice their criticism of the federation. Such was the torrent of condemnation that somebody seems to have thought it wise to pull the plug, forcing unhappy supporters to turn to social media to vent instead.
“The decision of the federation to cancel the match shows a total lack of respect toward fans of Uzbekistan. Why do we not have the right to openly criticize the work of this organization? You can’t treat fans like enemies,” one disgruntled fan, Babur Isamov, said on his Facebook account.
A sporting publication linked to the same website, a newspaper called Chempion, has also been canned.
“The newspaper’s management explained that it stopped operations because of financial problems,” the BBC’s Uzbek service reported.
The official website of the Uzbek football federation has remained mute on all these developments.
This is not the first instance of censorship in sporting journalism in Uzbekistan. In December, two football TV shows — Soccer Club and Football Review — were pulled from the schedule on the Sport TV channel. Editors and presenters at the programs were fired.
Both shows had stuck their necks out with robust criticism of match-fixing and gambling rackets on the local footballing scene. Bookmakers are technically illegal in Uzbekistan, but they flourish underground.
A sporting journalist who asked to remained anonymous told EurasiaNet.org that he believes increasingly outspoken exchanges among football fans have made officials uneasy.
“Football and show business were the only areas where criticism was allowed and tolerated. And now even here they are choking the voice of the public,” the journalist said.
Two other large footballing sites remain on Uzbek Internet — championat.asia and stadion.uz — but if they are to survive, they will have to ensure that unhappy fans are kept at arm’s length.

author: Eurasianet


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The Difficulty and Uncertainty of Life in Turkey as a Syrian Refugee · Global Voices
PRI/PRX's The World

Yilmaz Ibrahim Basha
A lot has been written about refugees in the last two years. But rarely do we hear from the refugees themselves in more than just soundbites. GlobalPost, an international news organization within the PRI family, commissioned essays from five young Syrians who all made the difficult decision to leave their homes — and undertake a menacing journey out of the country, to Turkey, to Greece and across southern Europe.
This essay by Yilmaz Ibrahim Basha, 24, was originally published on PRI.org on May 31, 2016, and is republished here with permission.
In 2013, I was captured and imprisoned by ISIS.
I was held in a prison cell in Raqqa, the capital of the Islamic State, for a month. The first cell was a tiny closet, 3 feet wide and only a foot deep. I stood in there with three other guys for 12 hours. It was dark, like a grave. I could hardly breathe.
In the early morning they took us to a bigger cell to pray and I stayed there for two more days. Most of the prisoners were Free Syrian Army fighters, journalists and activists. They questioned me twice during those two days. They thought I was a paid spy for America and Turkey. Eventually they led me out of the cell, blindfolded and handcuffed. Some of them said they would take me to Mosul in Iraq to their military court. Others said they would kill us in the center of Raqqa, which was a famous place for public executions.
All that turned out to be lies just to terrify us. They put us in a minibus and drove for about two hours. I thought we were really going to Iraq. Then they stopped in the desert; I could just see through the band over my eyes. Some prisoners started praying because they thought we would be executed. They made us hold each other’s hands. They took us down inside a basement. They put us in a small room and took our blindfolds off. We were five people. They brought a small dish of rice and three pieces of bread for us all. They beat me with a cable.
I was a journalist. I had been trying to make a film in Raqqa. They took my camera. They took my laptop. And they took all my film. They nearly took my life.
After a month, they finally released me. It was thanks to some members of local clans in Raqqa that I knew before. They negotiated for my release. I was so happy to be free again. But I was not really free. Syria was no longer a safe place for me. Fighters from ISIS could come for me again any time. And when I called my family to tell them I was released, my father told me I shouldn’t go back to my home in Ras al-Ein, which is in northwest Syria, near the Turkish border. He said the situation there was too dangerous for me. I was wanted by the regime and other parties for my work as a journalist. So I made some calls to friends. I determined that Turkey was the safest place for me to go.
At that time, in July 2013, it was still possible to safely cross the border with Turkey. I decided to go to Istanbul because it was a big city and I thought that finding a job there might be easier for me. But the French Embassy in Ankara had asked to meet me, so I went there first. They wanted to ask me about the French journalists who had been kidnapped by ISIS. They thought I might have some information about them. They also asked me about ISIS in general, and about my experience in Raqqa.
When I finally arrived in Istanbul I went to a hostel first with some friends and tried very hard to find a job. But it was all in vain. The little money I had saved was becoming less and less every day. Without work it is difficult anywhere. In Turkey, searching for a proper job is like looking for a needle in a pile of straw. They ask you to work no less than 15 hours a day with a salary that will not be enough to cover even rent. I started to become hopeless and desperate. Language was the first problem since I didn't speak any Turkish. Being Syrian was another problem because they didn't like us. Employers discriminated against us. I met people who were forced to do hard labor for little money. They lived like robots. I didn’t want that.
But as they say, when a door closes another one opens. There was a conference in Istanbul to discuss the situation in Syria. That was September 2013. I was invited to it because I was an activist and a former prisoner. At the conference I met Ahmad Tuma, who is the head of the exiled Syrian interim government. He knew I had worked before in the media and asked me to work with them as a photographer and cameraman. I was excited to become part of a project that might shed light on Syria's conflict and the terrible existence of so many Syrian refugees. I wanted the whole world to see these facts, to understand the devastation of what was happening.
So I moved to Gazientap, which is close to the Syrian border. That’s where the new headquarters of the Syrian interim government would be. A few months later my family called. It was bad news. They had been forced from their homes by the Kurds in Syria because they were my family and I had been working for the opposition government. The Kurds told them that I had to surrender myself or they would take my father instead. So my family decided to make a run for Turkey.
“I tried to look for a job again. But working in Istanbul is like slavery. You work long hours for little money. And sometimes they cheat and don't pay.”
Incredibly, they made it. It was my father, my sister and my aunt, who has been like a mother to us after my mother died of breast cancer in 2010. I went and met them in Urfa, which is in southeastern Turkey. When I was a prisoner I thought I would never see them again. I was so happy. But I was also sad. They lost everything because of me. They comforted me saying all was OK. They told me they were proud and willing to give everything for my safety. It was a moment full of joyful tears. But I still felt guilty about what happened.
From that time on I became responsible for my whole family at my young age of 22. I searched for a new flat so they could live with me. I found a small flat for 1,000 Turkish lira ($340) per month, which was a big amount for a small place. But I had no choice. Many people in Turkey won’t rent to Syrians.
I started working with foreign journalists as a freelancer, translator and story finder. I worked with the Daily Telegraph and the BBC and many others. I liked that; it was an amazing experience to do what I really liked. My excitement for working with the government began to fade away pretty quickly. They weren’t sincere in their concerns about refugees, or even Syria, I thought. So I left them in December 2014 and decided to go back to Istanbul.
Eventually my cousin called me from Syria. He proposed the idea of going to Europe. But it was winter and I didn't want to leave my fiancé alone at that time. She had just come to Turkey from Iraq, so we postponed leaving until summer. I met my fiancé online. We got to know each other for about six months while she was in Erbil, Iraq. When she moved to Turkey we met for the first time and our relationship became strong. We were married last August.
I went to Istanbul this time with promises from Syrian friends living there to help me find a flat and a job. My family moved to live in a shared house with my uncle near the Syrian border. But nothing was easy. One night while I slept, I was robbed. Our money and our mobile phones were stolen. The people I thought were friends were only using me. When they needed my money they were friends. But when they got their own jobs, they turned their backs to me. I tried to look for a job again. But working in Istanbul is like slavery. You work long hours for little money. And sometimes they cheat and don't pay.
I tried working again with foreign journalists. I traveled between Istanbul and the Syrian border, researching stories about refugees and former members of ISIS. Finally, spring came. And with it new ideas of starting a new life in Europe. I wanted to achieve my dreams of studying photography. Pursuing my dreams in Syria was too dangerous, and in Turkey it was impossible because I wasn’t a resident. Europe seemed like the only place I could go after them.
Yilmaz lands in Greece after leaving Turkey by boat. Photo by Yilmaz Ibrahim Basha
My cousin came from Syria and we carefully planned the trip for about a month. We studied the routes and made all the necessary arrangements. With a big group, we headed to Izmir, a town in Turkey that is on the Aegean Sea. From there we would board a boat, face new dangers and challenges, and hopefully start a new life. Maybe I’d be able to bring old dreams to life once again. It was difficult to leave my fiancé, but we had no other choice — I didn't want her to go through the illegal process to get to Europe. I thought that if I go first and get residence in Europe, then she could meet me after.
But after four months apart, it was taking too long. So she decided she would make the trip as well.
Yilmaz got his three-year residency visa several months ago. He now lives in Berlin, where he is studying art and photography at a local university. His wife is Zozan Khaled Musa, who writes about her journey across Europe to meet him below.


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A Grandmother and Granddaughter in India Are Making Beautiful Media Together · Global Voices
Rezwan

Miss Pickles 2010. Image via indrimspickles.com
An older woman in a lab coat looks into the camera. Her name is Dr. Indri Pickle, and she explains to viewers that she will show them how to make mango pickles, which are very popular in South Asian countries. She proceeds to draw the basic formula on her Pickle Lab's chalkboard: sunshine + mango.
Dr. Indri Pickle is actually 84-year-old Inderjit Kaur, who goes by Indri, and she's not really a mango pickle scientist. In the video which was recently uploaded to YouTube, she's acting. It's with the help of social media tools like YouTube, blogs, Twitter and Facebook — as well as her granddaughter Jasmeen Patheja — that Indri is fulfilling her dreams of becoming an actor.
Jasmeen, who is an artist, feminist and the founder of the public and community arts collective Blank Noise, which confronts street harassment of women, wanted to learn photography and video. Her grandmother, wanting to become an actor, became a willing artist, and collaborator. Together, they've produced a series of photo performances based on characters of Indri's choosing, in addition to the Pickle Lab video.
Indri also shares her life story on her blog.  In the post, she mentions that she was born and brought up in Burma and remembers the Japanese attacks during the Second World War when she was a young child. She recounts the long travel her family took to move to India (Lahore) in 1941. She moved back to Mogok, Burma after World War II. Indri was married at the age of 19 and lived in Burma until 1970.
Global Voices spoke to Indri and Jasmeen to learn more about their work.
Global Voices (GV): Did you teach your grandmother how to use social media? What are the challenges she faced?
Jasmeen Patheja: I did not teach her how to use social media, but I have been there to introduce or pitch in with explaining concepts, behaviours and types of web engagement. I love that she often uses YouTube for ‘traveling’, she visits Japanese zen gardens through YouTube, or uses YouTube for education through bonsai tutorials. She also uses YouTube to listen to her morning hymns. A lot of this has been through years of stumbling upon and discovering new spaces on the web, including YouTube, Facebook, Twitter. I step in when she has questions about the different kinds of spaces, e.g. “What is the difference between Instagram and Twitter and Facebook and Tumblr?”, there are different formats, each lending to different kinds of behaviour. Indri uses Facebook, Google, YouTube, WhatsApp with most ease. Very early on, Indri learnt to use paint, Microsoft Word, play cards (solitaire), send e-greetings.
Indri lives alone and is independent. She loves that the internet allows her to use web portals for buying grocery and products (Flipkart/Bigbasket). At this point she really wants to learn to book a ticket to travel!
I asked Indri about what she finds most challenging, and Indri spoke about language and vocabulary.
Inderjit Kaur: The whole world is learning, why should I not learn? I have a lot more to learn. It is important to walk along with the world.
Indri acting in a photo performance. Image via indrimspickles.com
GV: What prompted you to come up with this idea and go forward with this initiative?
Jasmeen Patheja: I wanted to take photos. My grandmother wanted to act. My grandmother Indri and I have been collaborating for years.
I was also in art school and pursuing photography/community arts. Indri’s desire to act has been the start of this collaboration. This premise led to mutual exchange. It created a series of photo performances based on characters Indri desires to become. This collaboration emerges from play, curiosity, desire. Performances range from queen, politician, scientist.
We collaborate because we enjoy the process. We both think we “get lost in acting and photo making”, it nurtures both of us. It makes us happy.
Indri Pickle Lab came out of the larger series of photo performances, and here Indri plays a scientist making mango pickle in her laboratory. The idea was spontaneous, but also looking at pickle making, precision, science, labour and knowledge sharing.
Jasmeen Patheja with her grandmother Indrajit Kaur. Image via indrimspickles.com
GV: What response did you get from readers?
Jasmeen Patheja: A very endearing response and a very encouraging one too. Indri and I have made new friends through this collaboration. Women (family friends and extended relatives) Indri’s age have responded with surprise, encouragement, often expressing desire to team up with their granddaughters too.
We also went on a residency together at [German art-in-residence program] Akademie Schloss Solitude in 2010, an institute that has supported this collaboration very early on.
Readers have responded with love and encouragement and we are so glad that something we have created is receiving love.
Indri posing. Image via indrimspickles.com
GV: Many members of our generation are losing touch with their older relatives as families become more fragmented and people live farther apart. How can social media and web tool help bridge the gap?
Jasmeen Patheja: My family is spread across cities and countries. I live in Bangalore. My grandmother lives in Calcutta. At this point my grandmother hasn’t seen her grandsons in two years, nor has she seen her five-month-old great grand daughter. Her desire to connect leads to using the web. Yes, the the gap can be bridged through the internet.

author: Rezwan


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Conspiracy Theories Find Fertile Soil in Afghan Social Media · Global Voices
Rustam Ali Seerat

After decades of corruption and centuries of manipulation at the hands of foreign powers it makes sense that Afghan social media users are partial to a conspiracy theory or two.
Political cartoon depicting the Afghan Emir Sher Ali with his “friends” the Russian Bear and British Lion (1878) [Wikipedia]
Whenever something goes wrong in the country, which is often, the chief culprits that surface in Facebook discussions are typically the superpowers of the colonial and neo-colonial age — Britain and the United States — or irksome neighbours Iran and Pakistan.
But while none of those countries can claim to have done more good than harm to Afghanistan, is everything always really their fault?
The interference of the British Empire in Afghan affairs dates back to the nineteenth century but retains its place in the nation's political psyche up to the present.
In the so-called Great Game in the 1800s, London and Moscow plotted against one another as the British empire looked nervously north at its Russian counterpart.
Afghanistan was less important in and of itself to Britain than as a means to protect India — the jewel in the crown of the British empire — from an encroaching Russia.
Even today, the current borders of Afghanistan, which provide important context for the state of inter-ethnic relations inside the country, are a product of the agreement between the two powerhouses.
Today, however, the British have mostly been replaced by the Americans as a lightening rod for popular resentment.
US involvement in Afghanistan has its roots in Washington's support for the Mujaheedin who waged a struggle against the Soviet military intervention in the country during the 1980s.
Participants in that struggle can now be found in the ranks of both the Taliban insurgency and the civilian government in Kabul, but it was Washington's own invasion of the country in the aftermath of 9/11 that made it a prime target of rampant public suspicion.
America is the mother of Daesh [ISIS] and the grandmother of the Taliban.
It supports Daesh by injecting Dollars
It supports the Taliban by injecting Pakistani Rupees.
Posted by Mohammad Zahin Nadeem on Thursday, July 16, 2015
The Taliban's persistence even in the presence of the Washington-led ISAF military coalition has led many people to believe that the group is nothing more than a Western puppet required to justify the extended presence in Afghanistan of foreign military forces.
The same now goes for ISIS, to whom a number of Taliban splinter groups have already declared allegiance.
Almost all Afghan communities have cultural and ethnic ties with neighbouring countries, which makes for another rich source of conspiracies whenever a given group mobilizes.
The religious and cultural ties of the Hazaras to Iran have turned into an Achilles heel for that community.
Recent protests against controversial government plans to re-route an electricity line in such a way that would bypass areas where ethnic Hazaras live were depicted by many social media users from other groups as an Iranian plot to destabilize the country, for instance.
This has paralysed the community's ability to to air legitimate grievances and  claim its rights.
همه هزاره ها فاشیست ، نوکر ایران و نمک حرام اند ، بجز از بشردوست که شاید او هم حرامی باشد درغیر آن همه هزاره ها فرزندان …
All Hazaras are fascists, Iranian handymen and ungrateful, except Ramazan Bashardoost [a Hazara MP known for not taking sides in inter-ethnic disputes]. He might be bastard, but otherwise, all the Hazaras are Khomeini's loyal sons.
Posted by Pashtana Afghan on Sunday, May 15, 2016
Tajiks — the country's second most populous group after Pashtuns — are often tarred with the same brush due to their linguistic and cultural links with both Iran and ex-Soviet Tajikistan.
Meanwhile, many members of different ethnic groups see Pakistan's footprint in the Taliban and other militant movements that have a mostly Pashtun constituency.
The prevalence of suspicion and conspiracy both on Facebook and off it is a hindrance to the country's social development.
Firstly, it denies Afghans of the agency needed to change the country's course and lets a corrupt and misfiring government off the hook.
Essentially, by tapping into these conspiracies state officials can externalize the source of their failures and escape scrutiny for their own misdeeds.
In fact, government may even go further, fuelling these conspiracies on social media by sponsoring specific users and pages.
(One Kabul-based newspaper, 8 am, writes that the government pays money to specific news agencies and social media users under a scheme called, operative finance).
But apart from that, the focus on external threats leads to a superficial understanding of the country's challenges, and thus a failure to find appropriate solutions.
Blaming the Pakistanis for the longevity of the Taliban is the most obvious example of this trend, encouraging Afghans to overlook the internal and indigenous roots of insurgencies and extremism.

author: Rustam Ali Seerat


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For One Syrian Refugee, the Boat Crossing to Greece ‘Seemed Like an Endless Journey’ · Global Voices
PRI/PRX's The World

Rena Khalid Moussa
A lot has been written about refugees in the last two years. But rarely do we hear from the refugees themselves in more than just soundbites. GlobalPost, an international news organization within the PRI family, commissioned essays from five young Syrians who all made the difficult decision to leave their homes — and undertake a menacing journey out of the country, to Turkey, to Greece and across southern Europe.
This essay by Rena Khalid Moussa, 29, was originally published on PRI.org on May 31, 2016, and is republished here with permission.
Staying in Turkey was not possible anymore. The idea of Europe controlled my mind. In Turkey, even if you have a university degree, finding a good job is like a fantasy.
I started my journey in Istanbul. The first stop was Izmir on the Aegean Sea. I called my neighbors from Syria, who I knew were living in Izmir, to ask if I could stay a few days until the smuggler called to say it was time to leave. After two days with them, the person I was relying on to arrange things with the smuggler called me to go to the meeting point. I was only a few steps out of the house when he called again to say that the trip had been canceled that night — the weather had changed. So I went back to my friends’ home.
The next day he called me again. He said we would do it today. So I packed my bag and took my life jacket, which cost a lot of money. There was traffic so I was a half-an-hour late to meet him. The smuggler was mad at me. He said that my bag was too heavy and that I couldn’t take it. I told him I have important things in my bag. I said I was a woman, and a woman needs to have many things, not like men.
“The idea of a safe trip and good weather was just a lie that we used to comfort ourselves. I knew that all of them were liars, getting rich in the trade of humans.”
We got into a taxi to go to the meeting point with the others. On the way I gave him 1,200 euros ($1,300). That was the price for crossing the sea to Greece, where I’d be able to begin making my way into Europe. Before we arrived at the coast, he got a call from the other smugglers. They told him to go back because the trip was canceled again. We had to pay for the taxi. Another 200 Turkish lira ($70). I was not really surprised. I expected anything from an illegal trip. I took my money and decided to find another smuggler to deal with. The idea of a safe trip and good weather was just a lie that we used to comfort ourselves. I knew that all of them were liars, getting rich in the trade of humans.
After two more days, I finally found a boat. I went to a small mosque and from there they took us to an abandoned house. We all gathered in one place. Then they put us all in a big truck, like a flock of sheep. We arrived at 9 p.m. to an empty place. Only the sound of water and wind could be heard. We were not allowed to talk or turn on flashlights. So we put on our life jackets in the darkness. They asked the men to help fill the inflatable boat with air. It took them about two hours. When they finished, they told us to go down to the beach in small groups without noise. After that they brought the raft to the beach and rearranged us until we could all fit inside. I don't know exactly how many people we were because it was night. But I think that with the children, we were about 60.
The men sat on the edge of the boat and women at the bottom. I was sitting next to the engine, the lowest part, nearest to the water. We thought that the trip was only one or two hours, maybe even less. But what we didn't know was that our souls were just a game for these people. We were not even in the sea. That's what I finally realized, although it was deadly dark. It was some kind of narrow river or channel. The engine was started by the driver, which is usually one of the refugees. They would drive the boat in exchange for free passage. But this time it was one of the smuggler's men. Two of them came with us until we arrived at the point where we thought the river emptied into the sea.
I took my phone and turned on the GPS. I was shocked to find out that the channel was so long. The location was still far from the sea. It took us more than two hours in that river alone. The engine got stuck many times in the weeds. It stopped each time. When we arrived at the sea, another boat was waiting to take the Turkish driver and replace him with an Algerian refugee. When the new driver took the grip, the boat sped round and round, creating waves. All the people on the raft began to panic. We shouted that we wanted to go back. But no one listened. Finally, the Algerian got control of the boat and we began to calm down. But now we were in the sea and the waves were so high that sometimes I felt like the boat was going on the top of a mountain and coming down. There was no light but the moon. The stars were shining in the sky.
“When the boat was going up and down the waves, people's voices were rising with prayers. For me it was ironic that most humans don't remember God unless they are in trouble.”
I don't know why but I was not so afraid. Before I boarded the boat I thought that the most horrible part of the journey would be the sea, especially at night. When the boat was going up and down the waves, people's voices were rising with prayers. For me it was ironic that most humans don't remember God unless they are in trouble. Prayers became as loud as the boat was high on the waves. The men said they could see the lights of the island. It is hard to stay calm when you are in a struggle with life and death. It seemed like an endless journey. After two more hours we saw the lights of a ship. It was the Greek Coast Guard. Finally, we felt safe. It didn’t come too near that it would bring us waves that might turn us upside down. Instead it went behind us, turning its lights toward the island so that we could see it. It was now near. I don’t know how but I fell asleep for a few minutes, although no man can think of sleeping.
With the help of the coast guard, after one more hour, we arrived to the island safe. After five dangerous hours, we were happy and thankful to be alive. That was all we could think of at that moment.
Rena is living now in Minden but plans to move soon to Bielefeld, a medium-sized city in northwestern Germany. Rena had her interview with immigration a couple months ago, but is still waiting to get word of her approval for a three-year residency visa.


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For Stunning Glimpses of 20th-Century Nepal, Check Out ‘Nepal in Pix’ on Twitter · Global Voices
Sanjib Chaudhary

Porters carrying the first car to the Kathmandu Valley. Image via Twitter/NepalInPix
Throughout history, Nepal has represented a land of mysticism to travellers from abroad. Nepal’s high Himalayas with the world’s highest mountains, the mid-hills and valleys abundant with rare rituals and traditions, and the southern plains with dense forest and wild animals have always attracted curious visitors to this landlocked country.
Though Nepal is not untouched by modern development, images from only few decades ago take you to a different world. The Twitter account Nepal in Pix publishes images from that era, providing an idea of what life was like not that long ago.
To start with, here’s an image of Nepal’s Public Service Commission (Lok Sewa Aayog) examinations, the mode of entry into government jobs, being held in open fields in the Lamjung District of Western Nepal.
Nepali youths giving Lok Sewa Aayog exams on a sunny chaur in Lamjung in 1975. #Nepal pic.twitter.com/0S8hoo8bcE
— Nepal In Pix (@NepalInPix) May 1, 2016
The television set was a rare item in the 1980s. This image shows young men with a television, posing for a picture in the alleys of Kathmandu Valley.
Young Newar men bringing home their first TV, in 1987. #Nepal pic.twitter.com/3GCxe07lwV
— Nepal In Pix (@NepalInPix) May 10, 2016
In the 1960s, hippies frequented the Kathmandu Valley. Marijuana and hashish was legally sold here and even a street near the Kathmandu Durbar Square was named ‘Freak Street’.
गाजा र चरेस येहा पाइन्छ | Marijuana was legal in Nepal during 1960's. pic.twitter.com/6NVkVJ0Q3D
— Nepal In Pix (@NepalInPix) April 22, 2016
The below image shows how the party scene in Kathmandu looked like in those days, depicting the fashion trending among young people:
Time to party like it's 1969. #Nepal pic.twitter.com/KV3YLAKq9D
— Nepal In Pix (@NepalInPix) April 21, 2016
When monarchy was at the helm, the king and queen were considered a beacon of hope, and people waited in long queues to get a glimpse of the rulers.
People waiting for the arrival of the king & queen at Jumla Bazaar in 1978. #Nepal pic.twitter.com/ryyz2P0ROz
— Nepal In Pix (@NepalInPix) May 4, 2016
The New Road leading to the Kathmandu Durbar Square in the heart of Kathmandu was really new with very few vehicles around.
New Road, Kathmandu 60 years ago. #Nepal pic.twitter.com/u98IQ3mMhM
— Nepal In Pix (@NepalInPix) May 8, 2016
Cars, the possession of rich and powerful, were rare for the general public and so were the car dealers. The below image shows one such car dealer:
Vintage cars! The Ford car dealer at Lazimpat, Kathmandu in 1930s. #Nepal pic.twitter.com/XL3Ioi6u0G
— Nepal In Pix (@NepalInPix) May 6, 2016
While the Kathmandu Valley was advancing towards modernization, the southern plains was still a dense forest and a haven for hunters and guests of royal families. The below image is from one of the historic royal hunts with British royals as guests – killing several wild animals.
King George V with the day's kill in Dec 1911. A total of 39 tigers, 18 rhinoceroses & 4 bears were killed. #Nepal pic.twitter.com/aLjGeBe4jR
— Nepal In Pix (@NepalInPix) April 30, 2016
The Rana clan of prime ministers held power in their hands for almost 104 years until 1951, reducing the Shah kings to figureheads during their rule. For their part, the Shah dynasty's rule came to an end in 2008. Here’s an image of Prime Minister Chandra Shumsher Jung Bahadur Rana with his brothers.
Prime Minister Chandra Sumsher & his brothers at Singha Durbar – 1902 pic.twitter.com/Z9OnTQZEPg
— Nepal In Pix (@NepalInPix) May 12, 2016
Only some 40 years ago the Bagmati River and its banks were clean and odourless – just the opposite of what it is today.
46yrs ago! Ghats along the Bagmati river, Kathmandu in 1969. #Nepal (by Douglas Hall) pic.twitter.com/CXP6SlRSkD
— Nepal In Pix (@NepalInPix) April 24, 2016
The Boudhanath Stupa, surrounded by tall buildings today, was a perfect site to loiter around, pray and meditate.
The Boudhanath stupa, Kathmandu #Nepal in 1950s. (by William Morris) pic.twitter.com/nXOOyqAYCF
— Nepal In Pix (@NepalInPix) February 3, 2016
While flags of all countries are quadrilateral, Nepal’s flag is the only non-quadrilateral one. See how the flag looked like earlier.
Nepali National Flag before 1962 pic.twitter.com/mMgWxXciRg
— Nepal In Pix (@NepalInPix) May 13, 2016
Nepal’s stamps are a hit among philatelists and especially these first stamps are rare to find these days.
The first stamps of Nepal on cover, 1881. pic.twitter.com/ciCRhaL4rZ
— Nepal In Pix (@NepalInPix) March 19, 2016
The Tribhuvan International Airport, the only international airport in the country, looked fairly basic in the 1950s.
Tribhuvan International Airport during it's beginning in 1950's pic.twitter.com/0wiV0DJVzN
— Nepal In Pix (@NepalInPix) April 13, 2016
Not only the aviation industry but also road transportation was in its infancy. This image gives a glimpse of travelling in those days.
Travelling in #Nepal 1950s pic.twitter.com/EXE1xObMd6
— Nepal In Pix (@NepalInPix) March 9, 2016
And this image, taken just few 30 years ago in Bhaktapur of the Kathmandu Valley, shows a man carrying his child in kharpan, usually used for carrying vegetables and other items:
Man carrying his child (Kamal Binayak, Bhaktapur 1985AD) pic.twitter.com/Kew7uJSPTM
— Nepal In Pix (@NepalInPix) April 20, 2016
While other modes of transportation were introduced relatively late in history, Nepal was leading in terms of ropeway. The below image of the Hetauda-Kathmandu Ropeway, not operational these days, was a crest in Nepal’s transportation history.
Steel tramway cuts out 67 miles of Nepalese peaks and jungles. [Hetauda – Kathmandu Ropeway 1959] #Nepal pic.twitter.com/ZloB1a7adh
— Nepal Pix (@NepalPix) February 26, 2014
To view more interesting images of Nepal from the past, follow Nepal in Pix on Twitter.

author: Sanjib Chaudhary


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Hungarian Think Tank Finds Suspicious Device in Office, Raising Fears of State Surveillance · Global Voices
Marietta Le

Images from Ekint Facebook post.
Eötvös Károly Institute (Ekint), a liberal think tank and watchdog organization in Hungary, announced in a Facebook post that they discovered a suspicious device in their office that they believe had been monitoring their communications.
Ekint posted two photographs side by side. The left-hand photo depicts the suspicious device that they found connected to telecommunication cables at their office. As the photo shows, device appears to have been tampered with and then covered with a tar-like substance. Ekint reported that there were several circuits beneath the tar. The photo on the right shows what these devices should look like when intact.
One day, when adjusting the positioning of their telecommunication cables, an Ekint staff member noticed that the cables felt unusually heavy. It was then that they discovered the device.
An unnamed expert told Ekint that the suspicious equipment was capable of data transmission. Ekint for their part said in the Facebook post:
Nem tudjuk, hogy a szerkezet kitől származik és hogyan került az irodánkba, mindenesetre biztosan állíthatjuk, hogy nincs senki előtt titkolnivalónk. Honlapunkon az összes tevékenységünkről, elkészült anyagainkról és gazdasági beszámolóinkról találsz információt.
We don't know where the device comes from, or how it got into our office, but we can safely say that we have nothing to hide. You can find information on our website about all our activities, our published materials and our accounting reports.
In the comments section, some Facebook users questioned if Ekint’s finding was really a monitoring device as they claimed, and not just a device meant to filter out electromagnetic interference or “noise.”
Ekint said the same unnamed expert also told them the device is hard to obtain as a civilian. The Ministry of Interior, however, claimed in a statement to 444 news site that the device can easily be purchased from retail stores. They didn't address if they were or were not involved in surveilling Ekint, but added that organizations conducting covert intelligence activities do not buy such items from websites or retail stores.
A security adviser to Prime Minister Viktor Orbán said later at a press conference that the device has not been placed there by secret services. He argued that if that had been the case, it wouldn't have been so easy to find it.
The director of Ekint, Bernadette Somody, told Hungarian news site Index that they decided to do a check of their building after János Lázár, the head of the prime minister's office, claimed secret service reports show Hungarian-American businessman George Soros is manipulating the country's politics on migration through a group of organizations operating there. Hungary's government has earned criticism inside and outside the country for its vocally anti-immigration stance against the backdrop of the refugee crisis in Europe.
Ekint was created by the Soros Foundation in 2003 “in order to establish a novel, unconventional institutional framework for shaping democratic public affairs in Hungary,” according to the organization's about page. Soros-founded grantmaking-foundation Open Society Foundations (OSF) also provides a funding scheme for NGOs in Hungary.
(Editor's disclosure: Global Voices receives support from Open Society Foundations. The author of this post also contributes to Atlatszo.hu investigative journalism site, which has received funding OSF as well.)
While it's not certain who is behind the device found in Ekint's office, authorities have targeted NGOs in the recent past. In 2014, a campaign accused human rights NGOs that receive funding through the Norway Grants — a joint effort by Norway, Iceland and Liechtenstein to support projects aimed at reducing economic and social disparities in Europe — of political meddling. Police raided the office of one NGO that helped distribute those grants.
Ekint's discovery of the device also highlights an important European Court of Human Rights decision in favor of two Hungarians who were staff members of Ekint. They had complained that a law introduced in 2010 allows the Counter-Terrorism Centre of Hungary to conduct covert intelligence activities without proper external approval or warrant.
The court ruled in January that Hungary's legal framework violated Article 8 of the European Convention on Human Rights, which reads:
That case, called Szabó and Vissy v. Hungary, was filed in 2014. Today, Máté Szabó is a director at the Hungarian Civil Liberties Union. He posted to Facebook a few days ago, saying the Hungarian government had lost its appeal against the court's decision. That means the Hungarian government will need to change its regulations to provide proper safeguards for its citizens.

author: Marietta Le


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Iranian Singer Habib Mohebian Memorialized on Social Media · Global Voices
Tori Egherman

Habib Mohebian. Photo from Wikipedia Commons. CC BY-SA 4.0
Iran's Mehr News is reporting that Iranian singer-songwriter Habib Mohebian has died of a sudden heart attack in northern Iran. Mohebian, who was better known by his first name, was 63 years old.
After leaving Iran in the early 1980s, Habib eventually moved back in 2009. In a 2011 interview with Kodoom, his son Mohamad explained:
Habib was yearning to be back in Iran for a very long time, he missed his homeland and saw no reason not to be able to work there. He was also tired of the Persian entertainment business in Los Angeles…
His gravelly voice and folksy sound distinguished him from many of his contemporaries. While Habib is not very popular outside of Iranian circles, his music bridged traditional Persian themes and Western popular music. He was influenced by Jimi Hendrix and John Lenon, among others.
Habib is being remembered on social media with the hashtag #حبیب (#Habib).
One of Habib's most popular songs is “Night's Lonely Man”. Twitter user @persis_design made reference to that song while remembering the late singer:
goodbye alone man…#habib #rip #حبیب pic.twitter.com/JM3qLr2PxI
— persis_design (@persis_design) June 10, 2016
A Twitter user calling himself Amir Whiskey expressed outrage at the publication of a photograph of Habib's body wrapped in a burial shroud. The photos are appearing on Iranian state media outlets. He felt that their publication was invasive and unethical.
خبرگزاری مملکت عکس کفن‌پیج #حبیب رو منتشر کرده! 😑
حالا گیرم که انصاف رو بلد نیستن رعایت کنن؛ ولی اخلاق حرفه‌ای هم نمی‌دونن چیه!؟ فهمم ندارن؟
— امیروفسکی (@amirx) June 10, 2016
Iranian news agencies have published a photo of #Habib in a a shroud! 😑 I know they have no respect for impartiality, but have they no professional ethics!? No understanding?
Habib's voice won't be silenced by his death, Azadeh tweeted:
یه هنرمند که فوت میکنه هنرش همیشه زنده ست باید دیگه بعد از رفتنش برای جاودان موندنِ هنرش تلاش کرد ..#حبیب
— Azadeh (@azadeh1359a) June 10, 2016
Even after an artist passes on, his art lives on #Habib
I couldn't help myself from sharing my own memory of Habib's music:
Even I have memories of #حبیب-a drive from Tehran to Ahwaz with one cassette playing over and over: the best part of it was Habib Mohebian
— ETori (@ETori) June 10, 2016
Habib's son Mohamad is also a singer. Together they recorded Javuni (Young) in 2003, which was popular with Iranian listeners inside and outside Iran.
We'll conclude with the voice of Habib himself.

author: Tori Egherman


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No Happy Endings for Tajikistan’s Romeo and Juliet · Global Voices
Salam Aleik

Henri Pierre Picou's Romeo and Juliet painting. Creative commons.
In ex-Soviet Tajikistan, a pair of star-crossed lovers have spread sadness and outrage across social networks by bidding to take their lives rather than show obeisance to their parents, who would not allow them to marry. The girl, 16, was successful in her suicide attempt while her 20-year-old boyfriend was hospitalised with severe injuries.
In Tajikistan, a pair of lovers decided to commit suicide by jumping from the top of a hill.
The two lovers from the region of Dusti in Khatlon province attempted to commit suicide by jumping from a one hundred-meter elevation. A 16-year-old girl and 20-year-old man went to this length because their parents did not allow them to marry. As reported by the official website of the Ministry of Internal Affairs of Tajikistan, the incident occurred in the early morning of June 7, at 7.30 am.
The pair, who have thus far not been named by police, have sparked debate among Tajikistan's Facebook-using urban middle-class about traditional values and arranged marriages, although it is not clear if that was what was thwarting the pair's unison.
Алина Уланова Родителей нужно казнить таких,21 век на дворе и все ж отдают замуж не по любви …идиотизм просто
Alina Ulanova: Such parents need to be executed! Here we are in the 21st century and people still give their children into marriage, rather than [allow] love. Idiocy.
Ольга Шумилина Бедные детки…Очень жаль их: бездушие взрослых и горячность юности вон как обернулись…
Olga Shumilina: Poor kids. I feel very sorry for them. Look what happens when you combine the callousness of adults and the passion of youth.
Another group was less sympathetic, at least towards the survivor, pointing out that at 16, the girl was too young to marry legally.
But their argument was met with a counter-argument that in Tajikistan's villages, many shun civic unions and marry by the Islamic nikkah ceremony.
One Facebooker drew a parallel with other tragic tales that have appeared in the local media in recent times, such as stories of poor young mothers throwing themselves and their children into rivers amid family arguments and economic hardship.
Indeed, tales of horrific suicides, including self-immolations, are becoming increasingly common in the landlocked country of over 8 million people and the broader Central Asian region.
Finally, there was the inevitable quoting of one of the most famous lines attributed to English playwright William Shakespeare:
Olim M Shirinov: Нет повести печальнее не свете, чем почесть о Ромео и Джульетте ….” ((((
И ведь это продолжается из покон веков , из века в века, из года в год… Печально..
Olim M Shirinov: For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.’ ((((
And so it continues through the ages, from year to year, century to century…sadness…

author: Salam Aleik