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Jamaica wakes up to the plight of prisoners with mental illness · Global Voices
Emma Lewis

View from the entrance area of Tower Street Prison in Kingston, Jamaica, between the first and second walls. Photo by Christina Xu on Flickr, CC BY-SA 2.0.
This is the first instalment of a two-part series on the stark realities of the Jamaican penal system, especially as it relates to people suffering from mental health issues.
When octogenarian Noel Chambers died at Kingston’s Tower Street Correctional Facility on January 24, he had been languishing in Jamaica's prison system for 40 years without being tried. First incarcerated on February 4, 1980, his last court appearance was on April 2 that same year, having been detained “at the governor general’s pleasure,” after being deemed unfit to plead to a murder charge.
In such cases, suspects — including minors who have allegedly committed serious offences — can be imprisoned indefinitely until a court decides it is safe to release them. According to reports, Chambers was convicted, deemed unfit to plead, then imprisoned — although a specific sentence was not handed down.
When the Independent Commission of Investigations (INDECOM), which examines abuses of human rights by the country's security forces, revealed details of its quarterly report, titled “Detained at Pleasure: Institutionalized Human Rights Breaches,” at a June 3 press briefing, Jamaicans reacted with horror and disbelief.
The report focused both on persons found unfit to plead, as well as those found guilty of an offence but deemed to be suffering from a mental illness. The photos of Chambers’ body, which were published in the report with the permission of his family, were particularly shocking:
At the time of his death he was in a deplorable physical condition. His clothing was filthy and his body showed evidence of chronic emaciation. He was covered with what appeared to be vermin bites, live bedbugs (“chink”), and he showed signs of having bed sores.
Chambers’ post-mortem listed his cause of death as an acute kidney infection.
INDECOM has made it clear that the state has an obligation to regularly review such cases. It also noted that Commissioner of Corrections Lt. Col. Gary Rowe, when asked, could not produce any of the required monthly reports; in a letter to INDECOM dated April 2, he promised to try and locate them. It is not clear yet whether they have been found.
With Chambers, a lack of hygiene and “timely and adequate” medical attention, combined with his indefinite detention, “highlight serious breaches of his constitutional rights, the Criminal Justice (Administration) Act, and the Correctional Institution Rules,” according to the report. An inspection in March had described conditions in the section for the mentally ill at the Tower Street prison as “less than desirable.” Chambers was described as sharing a “vermin-infested cell” with three others.
In its list of recommendations, INDECOM suggested that prosecutors should review all such cases and that systems should be put in place to ensure their “timely review” in the future. It also recommended the establishment of a well-staffed forensic psychiatric ward for those deemed unfit to plead.
In researching other cases, INDECOM pointed out that Chambers’ situation was not an isolated one. It cited nine other cases of mentally ill prisoners “detained at pleasure,” who have been behind bars awaiting trial for between 19 and 49 years. All these cases exceeded the maximum sentences for their alleged crimes.
In addition, Jamaica's Department of Correctional Services reported 146 such cases at three different prisons. At least 15 of the inmates in question have been incarcerated for more than 30 years.
One young Jamaican, in reacting to the revelations, demanded immediate action:
Unnu read sey 7 Jamaican men have been imprisoned without trial for between 40-49 years? That means right now we have men imprisoned longer than #NoelChambers? And nobody nuh shame? Nobody nah sey not another night? Mr Chief Justice? Mr Justice Minister? Madam AG? Mr PM? pic.twitter.com/v4gsj2EGBS
— Kemoy (@KemoyRoshane) June 8, 2020
Have you all read that 7 Jamaican men have been imprisoned without trial for between 40-49 years? That means right now we have men imprisoned longer than #NoelChambers? And nobody's ashamed? Nobody's saying they shouldn't be held, for not even one more night? Mr Chief Justice? Mr Justice Minister? Madam Attorney General? Mr Prime Minister?
University lecturer Damien King added:
The horrific case of Noel Chambers, jailed for life (41 years in his case) without a trial, should never happen. An inquiry must be held and come to one of two outcomes: either an individual was negligent and is held accountable or it was a systemic failure and reforms announced. pic.twitter.com/tAi9s5dgqI
— Damien King (@DamienWKing) June 7, 2020
Part II of this post will address the encouraging developments that have been taking place since Noel Chambers’ death was brought to public attention.


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In Georgia, cinema is the latest flashpoint in the struggle for LGBTQ+ rights · Global Voices
Filip Noubel

Screenshot from the trailer of the “And then we danced” movie by Levan Akin, showing the main character Merab. Image via Music Box Films’ December 2019 YouTube video.
A 2019 film about the story of an LGBT dancer continues to strongly polarise Georgian society.
“And then we danced,” filmed in this South Caucasus nation of 3.5 million people, offers a snapshot of contemporary Georgian society — including its intolerance towards members of the LGBTQ+ community. It tells the story of Merab, a professional dancer who specialises in traditional Georgian dance. While training for a role in the prestigious Georgian National Ensemble, he develops a romantic and erotic relationship with another male dancer, Irakli. Social pressure tears the lovers apart; when Merab is outed, he considers leaving his country behind.
Director Levan Akin's film is an homage to a country undergoing rapid and contradictory changes. It is a country besieged by foreign tourists alongside grinding economic hardships for most of the population — compelling some to emigrate. It is a tribute to the timeless courtyards of the Georgian capital Tbilisi, where watchful neighbours can be a lifeline — and a curse.
It is a portrayal of a city whose rebellious youth find solace in drugs (and the landmark, gay-friendly club Bassiani), and whose LGBTQ+ community must live their lives in secret, sometimes forcing themselves into heterosexual marriages. In this context, Merab's love for traditional dance — the “soul of the nation” — and for Irakli are steeped in tragedy, in a country struggling with sexism and patriarchy.
The film has made some powerful enemies.
Georgia is a predominantly Christian country whose Orthodox Church is legally separate from the state. Nevertheless, it is highly regarded, wealthy, influential and does comment regularly on social and political issues. Its official view on LGBTQ+ people is that they are “deviant” people.
On May 17, 2013, LGBTQ+ activists marching in Tbilisi were attacked by far-right protesters led by religious leaders on the International Day against Homophobia. Since 2014, the Georgian Orthodox Church has celebrated “Family Purity Day” every May 17 to fight what it describes as “gay propaganda.” When the LGBTQ+ community announced that it would hold its first Pride Parade in Tbilisi, church figures voiced strong criticism. The government announced that it would not provide protection for the event, leading to its postponement several times over the summer, and eventual cancellation.
The Georgian Orthodox Church condemned “And then we danced” even before it hit the screens, issuing angry statements during its filming. When it was first released in Tbilisi and the seaside city of Batumi on November 8, 2019, far-right protesters, once again with church support, prevented viewers from entering the cinemas. But this time, the government did react, by sending police to protect moviegoers and arresting protesters, thereby enabling the screenings did take place.
On November 6, the Patriarchate of the Georgian Orthodox Church made the following statement, which it later removed:
საქართველოს მართლმადიდებელი ეკლესია ყოველთვის იყო, არის და იქნება კატეგორიულად შეურიგებელი როგორც საერთოდ ცოდვის, ისე, მითუმეტეს, სოდომური ურთიერთობების პოპულარიზაციისა და დაკანონებისადმი. ამიტომაც ყოვლად მიუღებლად მიგვაჩნია ასეთი ფილმის კინო-თეატრებში ჩვენება.
The Georgian Orthodox Church is, has always been, and always will be categorically opposed to the promotion and legalisation of sin in general, and of the sin of Sodom in particular. That is why we consider it unacceptable to show such a film in cinemas.
As the church emphasises its role as the guardian of the Georgian soul and the nation, the film was particularly sensitive given the prominent role played by traditional  dance. During the Soviet period until 1991, this dance almost became a shorthand for anything Georgian, in keeping with Moscow's interest in representing the country's 120 ethnic groups through strong folkloric images. Accordingly the chokha, the garment worn by Georgian male dancers, has come to visually symbolise Georgia. Tellingly, the main choreographer for “And then we danced” has chosen to remain anonymous, perhaps confirming the dancing teacher's words warning in the film about the “purity of the Georgian dance” and the “need to be masculine.”
It is no less telling that while the film begins with a black and white archive of these performances, it ends with a dramatic dance in bright blood red, free of those rules and freed in expression.
Another sensitive point was the fact that the film was chosen as Sweden's entry for the 2020 Oscar ceremony. The film has already obtained several awards, and several European and Asian countries have bought the rights to broadcast it as well — as producer Ketie Daniela notes, that is a rare privilege for a Georgian film.
In an interview this February, Levan Akin, the film's Swedish-Georgian director whose parents left Georgia in the 1960s, expressed surprised at the intensity of Georgian reactions to the film. “I knew it would be controversial but never thought it would be that controversial; there were riots, people got injured, and we could only show it for three days,” remarks Akin.
The public debate over the film is just the latest chapter in a longer fight for LGBTQ+ rights in Georgia. The first victory in that struggle was won in 2000, when Georgia decriminalised consensual same-sex relations. To this day, among all the 15 post-Soviet states (except the three Baltic states which are members of the European Union), Georgia has some of the most progressive legislation in this regard: in 2014 it amended its laws to make hate crimes related to sexual orientation an aggravating factor in prosecution. Yet there is a huge gap between the law on paper and the reality of life for members of the community who continue to face discrimination, hate speech, and violent crimes.
As Giorgi Gogia, Associate Director for Europe and Central Asia at Human Rights Watch, explained in an interview with GlobalVoices:
Georgia adopted comprehensive anti-discrimination legislation in 2014 that prohibits discrimination on all grounds, including sexual orientation and gender identity. The law also puts the ombudsman’s office in charge of overseeing anti-discrimination measures. The legislation was adopted as part of Georgia’s visa liberalisation action plan with the EU.  At the same time, the ruling Georgian Dream party proposed constitutional amendments defining marriage “as a union of a woman and a man”, thus a ban on same-sex marriage. I am afraid that the growing polarisation in the run up to the crucial parliamentary polls later in the fall might push the ruling party towards more populist stance. Homosexuality remains highly stigmatised in Georgia and is at the epicentre of “culture wars” between progressives and conservatives, with anti-gay elements backed by the Church, often with hateful rhetoric.
Read more: No place for transgender people in Georgia's labour market
A more recent documentary, “March for dignity” (released in mid-June and directed by John Eames) has been released to revisit and reflect on the struggle for LGBTQ+ rights in Georgia:
Giorgi Tabagiri, a representative of Tbilisi Pride, which maintains its own Twitter account, told GlobalVoices that progress may be incremental, but it is progress nonetheless:
We had great plans for the 2020 Pride March, but after seeing all those events cancelled in Europe, we took the tough decision to call it off. And eventually we decided to launch other activities: rainbow masks in this COVID-19 period, that became very successful to the point that celebrities wore them on state television.
We also distributed  100 large rainbow flags that people used in streets and on buildings, which is a very sensitive issue here. Our office is picketed regularly by far-right groups demanding we take them down. On May 17, we organised an online demonstration against homophobia on Zoom, collaborating with media and broadcasting live on Facebook.
About 120,000 people watched it, which is a large figure for Georgia. Overall, we do see positive changes, including in legislation, but the problem is that it does not translate into social acceptance, so we have a long way to go. The movie “And then we danced” will certainly have a long-term impact in this regard, as more people will watch it. We also need more public figures as allies, but so far very few of them who are LGBTQ+ are out.
Akin's film may be a fiction, but the social stigma it depicts is deadly real. If things can change, perhaps stories about the Merabs and Iraklis of tomorrow will look very different indeed.

source: news-globalvoices

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

author: Filip Noubel


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In Assad-controlled Syria, the official narrative is ‘no COVID-19 cases’ · Global Voices
عقبة محمد - Mohammed Okba

North East Dara'a 2015. Photo by Mousa Mohamed, used with permission.
After nine years of a deadly civil war, the health system in Syria is barely functional. In territories controlled by President Bashar al-Assad, authorities deny the presence of COVID-19.
According to Johns Hopkins University, the country has confirmed 439 cases and 21 deaths as of July 15. But narratives on the ground reveal the ways in which the state has denied and repressed the realities of COVID-19.
Walid Abdullah, 23, says the state has even gone so far as to suggest terminating the lives of suspected COVID-19 patients. Global Voices is using a pseudonym upon request to protect his identity. Speaking to Global Voices by phone, Abdullah explained that on May 13, he called Daraa National Hospital, in southern Syria, to inform them about a suspected case of coronavirus. When he asked what steps should be taken, the government hospital employee who answered the phone said: “Shoot him — we have no cure for him,” according to Abdullah.
He quickly ended the call. Obviously, the idea of shooting a suspected COVID-19 patient was out of the question. “Death by COVID-19 is more honorable than to set foot in any public hospital,” Abdullah told Global Voices.
This harrowing testimony is corroborated by other sources. In a March 10 report published in The Voice of the Capital, an independent Syrian newspaper, medical personnel from the Syrian Ministry of Health claimed that “deliberate termination operations are taking place at the al-Mujtahid government hospital in the capital, Damascus, for those who are believed to be carrying the virus, through giving them additional doses of the drug [anesthetic].”
This claim also appeared on social media:
معلومات أنه في سوريا يتم تصفيه مرضى كورونا في مشفى المجتهد بعد ساعات من تشخيص المرض…
— Qهارون (@Q56048602) March 11, 2020
Information that in Syria, coronavirus patients are terminated at al-Mujtahid hospital hours after the disease was diagnosed …
Another person from al-Mouwasat Hospital in Damascus was also quoted in the same article confirming this claim: “These terminations are conducted in complete secrecy and are carried out by doctors dedicated to following up on cases of suspected virus infection.”
The Assad regime's desperate approach to dealing with COVID-19 parallels callous strategies used in Assad’s war, which left 586,100 people dead, nearly 100,000 detained and forcibly disappeared, and 5.6 million refugees around the world.
Pro-Assad media institutions reflected the same mentality in their coronavirus coverage. At the onset of the outbreak, Firas al-Ahmad, a reporter at the state-run TV station, Syrian News channel (al-Ikhbariyah Syria) published a threatening post on his personal Facebook page to target those who defy the quarantine:
A now-deleted Facebook post by Firas al-Ahmad reads: “Now what do you think [of this idea]? Do we need to post snipers to force people to stay in their homes? Understand people, understand!”
“وهلأ شو رأيكن بالحكي ضروري ننصب قناصات لتنضب الناس ببيوتا، لك افهمو يا ناس افهمو” في تهديد مباشر منه للناس للالتزام بمنازلهم بالقوة.”
“Now what do you think [of this idea]? Do we need to post snipers to force people to stay in their homes? Understand people, understand!”
The post was later deleted, but a screenshot remained as evidence.
The Assad regime owes its survival to its key allies, including Iran. With few allies in the region, Iran has leaned on Syria as well.
In February, Iran became one of the world's most COVID-19 affected countries and is a likely source of infection in Lebanon, Iraq and Syria, where Iranian troops have had physical contact through military cooperation. Additionally, Iranian pilgrims and religious tourists, continued to visit Damascus-based shrines up until the first week of March, as reported by Zaki Mehchy, co-author of a March study published by the London School of Economics and Political Science (LSE).
However, the Assad regime has pursued a policy of misinformation, prevarication and denial in terms of the number of COVID-19 casualties.
In a March 13 interview with the official Syrian News Channel, Minister of Health Nizar Al-Yaziji insisted on denying the existence of any COVID-19 cases in Syria, saying: “Thank God that the Syrian Arab Army has cleansed the Syrian soil from many germs:”
The Syrian Ministry of Health did not announce its first case of COVID-19 until March 22, causing resentment and anger among Syrians who noted that the Assad regime lied and pursued a policy of denial. In an article published on an independent  Syria 24 news site in response to Yaziji’s claims, one citizen poignantly asked, “didn’t you say in your statement that all germs have been eliminated?”
However, the regime has continued to report implausibly low numbers.
In a statement dated April 1, the Coalition for Syrian Revolutionary and Opposition Forces called on the international community to put pressure on the regime to disclose verified data regarding COVID-19 cases.
Stressing the assumed existence of a large number of casualties, the coalition wrote:
” إن المعلومات الميدانية التي تصلنا، تؤكد تفشي الفيروس بأعداد هائلة، بحيث بات من الصعب السيطرة على هذا الوباء”
Information from the field confirms that the virus is spreading in huge numbers, making it difficult to control the epidemic.
Recognizing the pandemic is embarrassing for the Assad regime because it forces authorities to admit that the health system is non-existent.
According to the LSE study, the maximum number of COVID-19 infections that can be treated in the Syrian health sector is estimated to be only 6,500 in a nation of 17.5 million inhabitants. If casualties exceed this capacity, the health system, already worn out by the war, is likely to collapse.
Throughout the war, military attacks have caused widespread damage to the health sector. Data from the World Health Organization and the Syrian Ministry of Health show that only 58 hospitals are fully operational among the country’s 111 public hospitals.
The data also noted that up to 70 percent of health workers have left the country as migrants or refugees, while the rest are often subjected to restrictions, including military and political interference.
تقرير حقوقي: نظام الأسد قتل 669 من الكوادر الطبية بينهم 83 قضوا بسبب التعذيبhttps://t.co/sXWWtjrdVs#سوريا #روسيا #PYD pic.twitter.com/DOkV2kGsIP
— الائتلاف الوطني السوري (@SyrianCoalition) May 9, 2020
Human rights report: Assad regime killed 669 medical personnel, including 83 who died as a result of torture.
Perhaps the biggest challenge many Syrians face is the accumulation of disasters: war, a pandemic, and famine. The United Nations warned on June 26 that Syria is now facing an “unprecedented” hunger crisis, with urgent action still needed to prevent the spread of COVID-19.
According to the World Food Program, food prices rose by 11 percent in May compared to April, and 133 percent when compared to the same period in 2019. The United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) confirmed this situation in a June 12 report:
#سوريا :
?نقص في معدات الحماية الشخصية
?أزمة جوع لا مثيل لها
?جيل جديد لا يعرف إلا الدمار والحرمان
?ونقص كبير في التمويل..
-اقرأ ما صرحت به الوكالات الأممية عن الوضع الإنساني في سوريا?@WFP_Syria @WFP_MENA @UNOCHA_ar @OCHA_Syria @WHOSyria https://t.co/8HxfcXxVNx
— أخبار الأمم المتحدة (@UNNewsArabic) June 29, 2020
Lack of personal protective equipment. An unprecedented hunger crisis. A new generation knows nothing but destruction and deprivation. Significant lack of funding. Read what UN agencies have said about the humanitarian situation in Syria
As the economic situation deteriorates, 28-year-old Ali al-Ahmed (also a pseudonym upon request to protect his identity) from Daraa city told Global Voices in a phone interview that “the situation is bad, regardless of how much you work, even if you make 10,000 SYP a day [between $1 and $5 USD] it will not be enough.” Ahmed said most people have been forced to forgo many basic goods due to exorbitant costs.
Between a health care system shattered by years of war and an economic situation that has left many Syrians impoverished, the ongoing pandemic has pushed the country toward uncharted, catastrophic territory.

author: عقبة محمد - Mohammed Okba


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In Turkey, 2.5m students sit university entry exam despite COVID-19 outbreak · Global Voices
Sevgi Yagmur Bulut

Screenshot of the YouTube video featuring a song by Mabel Matiz including the lyrics at the heart of the current controversy around the Higher Education Institutions Exam (YKS): “Gözümün gördüğü, göğsümün bildiği ile bir değil” (“what my eyes see is not what my heart feels”)
In Turkey, a country of over 83 million people, one needs to pass an entry test, the Higher Education Institution Exam, called Yükseköğretim Kurumları Sınavı in Turkish (YKS) to enter university. This year, the multiple-choice questionnaire was taken in physical spaces by 2.5 million people, despite the COVID-19 pandemic.
On March 26, the Council of Higher Education announced the dates for YKS as July 25-26. On May 4, Turkish President Recep Erdoğan changed them to June 27 and 28.
The changes and the uncertainties around the exam amid the COVID-19 pandemic launched countless discussions in Turkish society and on social media: How do date changes affect the psychology of students, given the level of stress associated to YKS for which candidates prepare for months? How would COVID-19 prevention measures be applied and respected (social distancing, temperature measurements, the use of masks) when bringing together 2.5 million people?
In 2019, 74.16 percent of the candidates passed the first part of YKS, and only 39.4 percent succeeded in the second part of the exam.
Turkey registered its first confirmed COVID-19 case on March 11, and by July 15, around 5,500 people infected with the virus have died, while there have been more than 200,000 confirmed cases of the disease in the country.
On July 1, the government enforced special normalization measures: Businesses such as restaurants, cafes, cinemas and wedding halls that had been closed for about three months reopened with social distancing restrictions. Patrons are now required to wear masks and will have their temperature taken as well.
While students and opposition parties called for a further postponement of the YKS, the government went ahead with its plans: In late June, 2.5 million people took the exam.
As can be seen in this tweet, concerns over enforcement of social distancing in this context proved to be legitimate:
2,5 milyon öğrencinin girdiği YKS, tüm uyarılara rağmen yapılıyor: Sosyal mesafe ortadan kaybolduhttps://t.co/OlBVYfGNOE pic.twitter.com/MhuRK45wKK
— Tele1 TV (@tele1comtr) June 27, 2020
YKS, with 2.5 million students, is taking place despite all the warnings: social distancing disappeared
COVID-19 is not the only debate surrounding YKS in 2020. An even more impassioned discussion started in early July in relation to a text selected for the Turkish language exam. One of the questions referred to the song by pop singer Mabel Matiz, a member of the LGBTQ+ community, “Fırtınadayım” (“I am in the storm”):
The question about the meaning of “Gözümün gördüğü, göğsümün bildiği ile bir değil” (which can be translated as “what my eyes see is not what my heart feels”) has left its mark on social media because of Mabel's popularity among young people (some of his videos have 50 million views) and his sexual orientation.
Following growing debates on Twitter, Halis Aygün, the president of the Center for Measurement, Selection and Placement (ÖSYM), the government body responsible for preparing the exam, gave an interview to far-right conservative media Yeni Akit in which he said the matter would be investigated and that those responsible for including the text would be fired:
The 2020 YKS was completed safely and successfully in 188 exam centers in three sessions with the participation of approximately two and a half million candidates. The question pool is created with the participation of thousands of academicians from different universities of our country. The sensitivity of the management of our institution about our national, moral values and social value judgments is clear. An investigation has been launched into the content of the relevant question in the Turkish area of the 2020 YKS's TYT [this refers to one portion of the YKS exam] session. The members of staff responsible will be discharged from the process of question preparation.
For some Twitter users, those measures aren't enough:
Yetmez, ihmâl gösteren başkan da yönetim sürecinden çıkarılmalı ki gereken hakkıyla yapılmış olsun.
— ?? Afşin BOLAT ?? (@abolat_38) July 2, 2020
[Top]  ÖSYM President spoke for the first time after the exam!
“An investigation has been launched into the content of the problem. Responsible persons will be removed from the question preparation processes. “
[Bottom] It is not enough [to remove him], the neglecting president must be removed from the management process so that he is properly done with.
Conservative segments of society also question the intention behind the choice of that question:
Bugünkü #yks2020 sınavında @halis_aygun gençlere eşcinsel ve LGBT savunucusu Mabel Matiz (Matiz resimde 'Velev ki İbneyiz' pankartı taşıyan kişi) den başka örnek gösterecek kimseyi bulamadınız mı? Ne yapmaya çalışıyorsunuz?@Akparti @MHP_Bilgi @AKKADINGM @ pic.twitter.com/VitWijUxkg
— Sema Maraşlı (@Semamarasli) June 27, 2020
In today's #YKS2020 exam, couldn't you find anyone else to show to teenagers other than the gay and LGBT advocate Mabel Matiz? (The one who carries a banner saying “we are faggots”) What are you trying to do? [top of the post]
Public opinion remains largely divided as other Twitter users point out the success and popularity of Mabel Matiz:
Mabel Matiz'in kliplerini izlemenizi tavsiye ediyorum sevgili inceleme kurulu uyeleri.. zira uzun yillardan beri bu derece kulturumuze sahip cikan baska sanatcimiz yoktur.o yuzdendir ki #mabelmatiz  bu topraklarin değeridir.. özgün bir "sanatçımızdır".
— Tuğçe Akşit (@metalikebe) July 3, 2020
Dear investigative board members, I recommend that you watch Mabel Matiz's clips. Because we have no other artists who have embraced our culture this way for many years. That's why #mabelmatiz is the treasure of our land. He is a unique “artist”
This netizen draws attention to the fact that by focusing on a gay singer politicians avoid addressing real issues:
Kimse tecavüzcüye tacizciye ses çıkarmıyor Mabel Matiz sorusuna inceleme başlatılmış hay Allah'ım yaaa
— H E L E N A? (@HelinBaskin) July 3, 2020
Nobody makes any noise about rapists, yet Mabel Matiz question becomes the subject of an investigation.
And this one concludes:
‘Toplumsal değer yargılarımız’ diyosunuz ama kültürümüzü yaptığı işlerde en iyi yansıtandır Mabel Matiz. Asıl o inceleme Mabel Matiz'e hakaret edip bu ülkede her konuda ayrımcılık yapanlara başlatılmalı#MabelMatizYalnızDeğildir pic.twitter.com/2NDfdQgkmn
— SEHER (@kimennee_) July 4, 2020
You say “our social value judgments” but Mabel Matiz is the best reflector of our culture. Thus investigation should be about the ones who insult Mabel Matiz and discriminate against him. #MabelMatizisnotalone [Top of post]
On July 3, as the debate became more heated, Matiz finally broke his silence:
Eh, hayatın sınavları bitmez demiştim : ) Bi’ yoklama da burdan geldi.
— Mabel Matiz (@mabelmatiz) July 3, 2020
Müziğimi yapmaya, hikayeler anlatmaya ve bu ülkenin bir parçası olmaya gönülden devam edeceğim.
Bir başka sınavda görüşmek üzere…
— Mabel Matiz (@mabelmatiz) July 3, 2020
Hi:) I was very happy that my music was be the subject of such an important exam. Now I am amazed at how my personal values are subject of the same exam. Look what I was tested with, while the geographical sign logo was about placed next to my name. Well, I say that life's exams never end :) Another roll call came from here. I read your intense messages of support. I understand what I want to say with my music, I sense that you understand me, and I feel even stronger now. I will continue to make my music, tell stories, and be part of this country.
See you in another exam…
Matiz remains very popular: Just one day after Aygun's statement, he received two awards in a competition based on the popular vote. He won in two categories, “Best Clip” and “Best Male Singer” at the 46th Pantene Golden Butterfly Awards. This seems to indicate that very large numbers of people support him against the homophobia expressed by the government and conservative citizens.
On July 5, Mabel Matiz tweeted again:
46.Altın Kelebek Ödülleri’nde “En İyi Erkek Sanatçı” ve “En İyi Video Klip” ödüllerini aldık, mutluyum! Layık gören tüm dinleyici dostlarıma teşekkürler!
Mendilimde Kırmızım Var klibinin değerli yönetmeni Erhan Arık’a ve DOP Meryem Yavuz’a ayrıca teşekkürlerimi sunuyorum. pic.twitter.com/87wjv8Zmen
— Mabel Matiz (@mabelmatiz) July 5, 2020
I received the “Best Male Artist” and “Best Video Clip” awards at the 46th Golden Butterfly Awards, I am happy! Thanks to all my dear listeners! I would like to extend my thanks to Erhan Arık and DOP Meryem Yavuz, the precious directors of [my song] “I Have a Red in My Wipe” clip.

author: Sevgi Yagmur Bulut


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Mauritania: A racial pyramid seemingly resistant to change · Global Voices
Abdoulaye Bah

Photo of a traditional wedding in Atar in Mauritania by Radosław Botev, in free use on Wikipedia
In ethnically diverse Mauritania, the government appears to have turned deaf ears to the demands of the global Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement, continuing policies which reproduce systemic anti-Black racism.
As the world continues to express outrage at the death of the African-American George Floyd, a photo dated June 23, 2020, showing two policemen restraining a black man by putting a knee on his neck in the El-Minaa region in the south-western suburb of Nouakchott, Mauritania's capital, has been reported by many media, including France24. The shocking image was also featured in numerous tweets:
“This image reminds us of what happened to George Floyd, but it also reminds us that we have a lot of work to do in Mauritania”https://t.co/eMGcSxLPYq
— Middle East Eye (@MiddleEastEye) June 23, 2020
Whatever the reasons for this individual's arrest by police officers, this image was also shocking because it took place in Africa, and recalled the method used by American police officer Derek Chauvin in Minneapolis on May 25, 2020, to restrain George Floyd.
Many observers attribute the behaviour of the Mauritanian police officers in part to systemic racism which is still present in the country. In Mauritania, where slavery was not abolished until 1980, it is often the colour of a person’s skin that determines their place.
The Bidhân, or “White Moors”, are of Arab-Berber origin, constitute 53 per cent of the population, and are politically dominant. In the army, “almost all of the thirty-four Mauritanian generals are White Moors.” At the bottom of the heap are the Haratin, or “Black Moors”, who make up 34 per cent of the population. The Haratin are descendants of those once enslaved by the Bidhâns, and speak the same dialect of Arabic. There are also various other ethnic groups of black sub-Saharan African origin who make up about 13 per cent of the population.
These divisions have a serious and pervasive effect on the non-Bidhân peoples, who represent 47 per cent of the population. Ciré Ba, a Mauritanian human rights activist living in Paris, has addressed the issue on the Malian website malijet.co:
L’exclusion au sein de l’armée n’est jamais que le reflet du racisme systémique qui est l’essence même de l’Etat mauritanien. On peut l’observer à tous les autres échelons de la vie nationale, qu’il s’agisse de la fonction publique et notamment la haute administration, de l’enseignement, de la santé, de l’information, de la vie économique. La politique d’assimilation par la langue arabe n’en est qu’une manifestation en format réduit.
The exclusion within the army is only ever a reflection of the systemic racism that is the very essence of the Mauritanian state. It can be seen at all other levels of national life, whether in the civil service, particularly the senior civil service, education, healthcare, information or economic life. The policy of assimilation by means of the Arabic language is only one small example of this.
The authorities appear to have no intention of changing the situation and are instead seeking to consolidate their power. The recruitment of 47 officer cadets, none of them black, should be seen in this context, as highlighted in a comment on the Denouncing Racism Facebook group in September 2019:
L’annonce du recrutement de 47 élèves officiers l’armée nationale sans aucun Haalpulaar, Soninké, ou Wolof [trois des principales ethnies noires du pays] est un énorme scandale. Et, au regard du principe de l’égalité, entre les citoyens, ce recrutement est une continuité de la politique du sabotage à l’encontre de la quiétude sociale. À travers de tels agissements, de ces décisions iniques et des politiques injustes, on pousse à certains à sentir qu’ils n’ont pas de place dans ce pays
The announcement of the recruitment of 47 officer cadets for the national army without any Haalpulaar, Soninke, or Wolof [three of the country's largest black ethnic groups] is a huge scandal. And, regarding the principle of equality among citizens, this recruitment is a continuation of the politics of undermining social harmony. Through such actions, unfair decisions and unjust policies, some people are pushed to feel that they have no place in this country
Izzo Wane, a former Silicon Valley researcher from Mauritania, told of his experience of racism in a blog post on 6 June:
La discrimination raciale est toujours présente dans mon pays d’origine. Je l’ai remarqué pendant mon dernier séjour au pays il y’a quelques mois alors que beaucoup de gens proches me disaient que c’était « normal » et que j’avais « juste trop duré à l’étranger ». Je suis certain que presque chaque Mauritanien noir a vécu dans sa vie un incident, souvent traumatisant, lié à sa couleur de peau… Il y’a quelques jours à peine, Abass Diallo, un Mauritanien noir a été assassiné par l’armée.
Racial discrimination is still prevalent in my home country. I noticed it during my last visit to the country a few months ago when many people close to me told me it was “normal” and that I had “just been abroad too long.” I am sure that almost every black Mauritanian has experienced an incident in their life, often traumatic, linked to their skin colour… Just a few days ago Abass Diallo, a black Mauritanian, was murdered by the army.
Many Mauritanians reacted on Twitter to the killing of George Floyd:
Mauritanie : l'arrestation du “George Floyd mauritanien” indigne la communauté noire https://t.co/NiI9tZ6NpS pic.twitter.com/w4AhjrlPoz
— FRANCE 24 Français (@France24_fr) June 24, 2020
Mauritania: the arrest of the “Mauritanian George Floyd” outrages the black community
Commenters also called for pan-African solidarity, with some calling on African leaders to take a stand:
Il faut que les autres dirigeants s'expriment à ce sujet… ils sont Charlie mais ils ferment les yeux à cette injustice/intolérance qui se passe dans leur continent. C'est pas l'Afrique de Lumumba, Nyobe, Cabral et Sankara. Réveillons nous et sanctionnons la Mauritanie
— Manteya Freitas (@ManteyaF) June 26, 2020
I experienced this in Nouakchott. I was at the counter of a phone shop to get a local sim when a Moorish lady pushed me to take my place. I was going to react, but a young black man implored me: “Don't do that, you can get lynched here.”
I was appalled
Mauritania is a slaving and racist country.
Inhumane treatment in the region even beyond its borders is a custom. If there is a country where the lives of black people do not count, it is the Islamic slaving republic of Mauritania.
Other leaders must speak out on this… they are Charlie but they close their eyes to this injustice/intolerance which is happening on their continent. This is not the Africa of Lumumba, Nyobe, Cabral and Sankara. Let's wake up and sanction Mauritania.
The Ivorian web site iciabidjan (@iciabidjancom) observed that in Mauritania, slavery remains a common practice:
Suite à la mort de George Floyd aux…États Unis, l’UA et la CEDEAO ont réagi et exprimé leur indignation. C’est bien. Ces 2 institutions savent elles que sur le continent même, en Mauritanie entre autres, l’esclavage est une pratique courante? Balayons devant notre porte… pic.twitter.com/ihPZOS5x3Y
— iciabidjan (@iciabidjancom) June 11, 2020
Following the death of George Floyd in the…United States, the AU and ECOWAS reacted and expressed their indignation. That’ s good. Do these two institutions know that on the continent itself, in Mauritania among others, slavery is a common practice? Let's clean up our own backyard…
For the Mauritanian authorities, being situated between North Africa and sub-Saharan Africa is a distinct advantage that they could turn into real opportunities. But to do so they would have to end the policies that exclude and discriminate against almost half their population.

author: Abdoulaye Bah


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Serbia’s first #MeToo trial ends with three-month prison sentence for high-profile predator · Global Voices
Filip Stojanovski

Justice for Marija banner from the Twitter profile of Marija Lukić.
A local strongman notorious for harassment of female employees in a remote Serbian municipality received a three-month prison sentence in a trial billed as the first high-profile #MeToo case in the country.
The trial of the 58-year-old former mayor of the town of Brus, Milutin Jeličić, nicknamed Jutka, ended on July 10, 2020, N1 TV reported.
The lawyer representing the 32-year-old plaintiff, Ms Marija Lukić, who accused her former employer of sexual harassment, stated:
Zadovoljni smo presudom i ovo je jedan dobar pomak za pravosuđe. ‘Pravda za Mariju’ je veoma važna za Srbiju, i ona je prva žena koja je uspela da pošalje u zatvor jednog moćnika koji se pozivao na najviše državne organe misleći da će ga zaštiti na sudu.
We are very pleased with the verdict and this is a good move forward for the judiciary. The initiative “Justice for Marija” is very important for Serbia, as she is the first women who managed to send to prison a strongman who claimed support of the highest state officials thinking they would provide protection for him at court.
Marija Lukić, a married mother of two with a degree in economics, reported the complaint in March 2018.
She accused the then-mayor of continuously sexting her and attempting to grope her at the workplace. Police later charged the mayor with sexual harassment, sexual assault and abuse of authority.
Lukić lost her job, and the municipality issued a decision to shut down her husband's business.
Her husband, who publicly expressed support for Marija, said that he had received threats that police wanted to plant drugs on their property.
After the trial, Marija Lukić tweeted:
Ne, nisam srećna jer je osuđen na tri meseca.
Mirna sam jer znam da sam dala sve od sebe, za sve nas.
Mirna sam jer se agonija završila. Uslovno rečeno, jer još uvek presuda nije pravosnažna.
Mirna mi je savest.
Čula sam ono: “Kriv je”.
Posle svega, samo mi je to trebalo.
— Marija Lukić (@MarijaLukic36) July 10, 2020
No, I'm not happy that he [Milutin Jeličić Jutka] was sentenced to three months.
I am at peace because I did my best, for all of us.
I am at peace because the agony is over.
Conditionally, because the verdict has yet to come into force.
But my conscience is clear.
I heard the sentence: “He's guilty.”
After all, that was all I needed.
The story received international attention, with coverage from Equal Times, AFP and CNN.
The pro-democracy political movement Don’t Let Belgrade D(r)own (Ne da(vi)mo Beograd), which supported Marija Lukić at hearings, issued a statement of solidarity, stressing that the case showed that “no strongman is stronger than the loud public.”
❤?
Pravda za Mariju Lukić!
Pravda za žene Brusa!
Pravda za sve žene! pic.twitter.com/48QhaTXN9Q
— Ne davimo Beograd (@nedavimobgd) July 10, 2020
Tweet: Justice for Marija Lukić! Justice for the women from Brus! Justice for all women!
Sign on photo: Violence against women doesn't have statute of limitations.
While the sexual predator appeared to receive support from the ruling Serbian Progressive Party (SNS) as well as from the Serbian Radical Party headed by the convicted war criminal Vojislav Šešelj, both backed down under public pressure.
In September 2019, Lukić received the Winning Freedom Award, presented to women who promote human rights, rule of law, democracy and tolerance in political communication, from the Maja Maršićević Tasić Foundation.
The Balkan Investigative Reporting Network listed her as one of the “Heroes of 2019: People Who Took Action for Positive Change” in the Balkans.
According to the biography of Milutin Jeličić Jutka published on the fact-checking website Istinomer, Jutka was born in 1962 and has held various top political positions in the municipality since 2000.
In 2012 he was arrested on charges of abuse of power for purposes of embezzlement. But the subsequent court case did not begin until 2018, and has dragged ever since.
During the spring of 2018, three women from Brus told the Večernje Novosti newspaper that he was attempting to sexually assault them at the workplace and sending them messages of a sexual nature. Marija Lukić was one of them.
She continued to speak to media, explaining that during the two years from October 2015, when she became a secretary for the municipal administration, he had sent her over 15,000 “invites for intimacy” via SMS messages.
Jeličić denied these accusations, claiming he didn't blackmail or pressure anyone. In March 2018, he told media that Marija Lukić had demanded a better workplace and higher salary. He said that he told her that she couldn't have a managerial position before she earned a college degree. He also stated that he suspected that someone else sent the messages from his phone, because he often left it at his party's offices overnight.
Police called Jeličić in for questioning in March 2018. The trial started almost a year later, on February 5, 2019.
The charges against Jeličić were restricted to sexual harassment of Marija Lukić only, even though seven women reported him for trying to force them into unwanted sexual encounters.
Those seven women all lost their jobs, and were unable to find new ones in the small community of Brus. Some decided to move to other cities in Serbia, or abroad.
In March 2019 Jeličić quit as mayor under public pressure. He didn't quit politics, however, leaving the ruling party SNS and joining the far right Serbian Radical Party.
In June 2019 the municipal assembly voted to return him to his seat as a council member, giving him the chance to run for mayor again.
He participated in the June 2020 elections, freely campaigning as the head of a new political group called “For Modern Brus,” even while he was formally under investigation.
He was defeated at the polls by his former party SNS.
Protesters hold signs “Justice for Marija Lukić” in Belgrade, March 8, 2019. Photo by Peščanik, CC BY-SA 4.0.
In February 2019 Marija Lukić appeared on the TV show Život priča (Life is Telling Stories) on TV Prva, to talk about the case. But the the cable company in her home town Brus, discontinued the signal to the entire municipality, citing “a malfunction.”
Officially, the reason was due to a power outage in the building housing the cable company.
In March 2019 Lukić received death threats on Twitter from a man previously unknown to her, saying that her initiative represents “a threat against the regime” and that she would be “eliminated” like the Kosovo Serb politician Oliver Ivanović, who was assassinated in January 2018.
After she reported him to the police, the man who issued the threats apologized, claiming “psychological consequences” from overwork. The police did not press charges.
In September 2019, Jutka launched defamation lawsuits against journalists who reported the story. He first sued a journalist from the Blic daily newspaper Ivana Mastilović Jasnić and her editor Predrag Mihailović. In November 2019, Serbian media freedom website Cenzolovka reported that the politician also had also sued the Danas daily newspaper for inflicting emotional pain.

author: Filip Stojanovski


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‘Where is my family?’: A question left unanswered for too many Uyghurs living abroad · Global Voices
Fazil Munir

View of Kashgar in Xinjiang. “Silk Road 1992″ image by fdecomite, licensed under CC BY 2.0
One Uyghur who now lives in the Netherlands shares his story: His struggle to find out what has happened to his family in Xinjiang after his family experienced the full force of the Chinese government persecution of Uyghurs.
The story Nejmidin shared with Global Voices is that of countless Uyghur families. He was born in Kashgar, a predominantly Uyghur city in southern Xinjiang. His large family was prosperous and well-respected in the region. His grandfather, Raman Idris, was a businessman who specialized in chemical fertilizers and, and later, in property development. Nejmidin’s father, Mamutjan Raman, was also a wealthy businessman and owned an agricultural cooperative.
Nejmidin grew up in a close-knit extended family: Even distant relatives could be counted on for help and support. His family were observant Muslims who prayed five times a day and paid their yearly religious tax (zakat). His grandfather made the pilgrimage to Mecca. Such practices had to be done quietly, however, to avoid the ire of the Chinese authorities. Nejmidin remembers that in his school days, he and his fellow students were made to hold hands and pledge not to engage in religious ceremonies or practices, such as fasting and attending Friday prayers. Nonetheless, Uyghur families such as Nejmidin’s had some freedom to practice their faith quietly.
This changed suddenly and dramatically in late 2015. Nejmidin, who was already living abroad, received a tearful phone call from his mother, telling him his father had been accused of a “political crime” and sentenced to a year in prison in Aksu, a city in the south of Xinjiang. His younger brother, accused of a similar crime, had been sentenced to six months in prison in Kashgar. His mother begged Nejmidin never to call home again, for their safety, since having family abroad could result in intensified surveillance and interrogation.
Such traumatic situations are widely shared within the Uyghur diaspora: Despite experiencing deep angst about the fate of those left behind, exiles fear that any attempt to communicate with them could put them in danger. At the same time, Uyghurs living abroad face the hardship of making a living in foreign lands and struggling for their own status, and sometimes safety, given the pressure the Chinese government exerts on countries hosting Uyghur asylum seekers.
This has been Nejmidin’s experience. Unable to contact his family directly, he received information from people who maintained discreet contact with the region. In 2018, he learned that his grandfather had been accused of religious extremism and was detained in June 2016, around the beginning of the holy month of Ramadan. According to a source from Kashgar, his grandfather was rushed to a hospital, shortly after detention, where he passed away. The source claimed that his grandfather had been severely beaten before his death. He was seventy years old.
Nejmidin was also told that his family’s assets, including his grandfather’s sizeable savings resulting from a lifetime involved in real estate and the chemical fertilizer business, had been confiscated by the government. “In the name of re-education and vocational training,” Nejmidin told Global Voices, “the Chinese government took my grandfather’s life and took his wealth. They took everything he had accumulated in his lifetime and confiscated his property.”
In March 2019 he learned that his father, who was 50 years old, and one great-uncle, who was in his sixties, had also died in Chinese government detention. He could not find out any details about these deaths or even about the accusations that had been brought against them.
Desperate for news of his family, Nejmidin made numerous phone calls to police stations in Kashgar in February 2019. Some did not pick up, others hung up on him. Some even told him that he would need to come personally to Kashgar if he wanted to find out where his family was.
Giving up on local authorities, he attempted to contact the Chinese embassy in the Netherlands. In an unusual and desperate move, he forwarded the personal contact information of all of his family members to the Embassy. After making multiple calls every day for a week, he was finally told by the Embassy receptionist that his message would be relayed to a certain authority, who would decide, at an unknown time, whether or not to look into the case.
Eventually, another employee picked up the phone, and told Nejmidin that he was welcome to return to China and look for his family on his own. It has been over a year since Nejmidin contacted the Chinese Embassy. He has yet to hear back, but judging from the numerous profiles of detainees that have come to light in the last several years, one factor that may have led the Chinese authorities to target Nejmidin’s family is the fact they were observant Muslims. Assaults on Islamic practice and buildings have been shown to be a key element of China’s larger onslaught upon the Turkic cultures of Xinjiang.
As overseas Uyghurs like Nejmidin began to lose contact with their loved ones in the wake of China’s crackdown in their homeland, many began posting video testimonies on social media, profiling their missing relatives and demanding answers.
Nejmidin explained to Global Voices how his perspective shifted in 2018:
After seeing videos like that I decided to make one for my family members, to call on Chinese government officials to release my family. It was an emotional moment. When I was making that video I cried a lot. I felt miserable having to make the video because that’s not what people do in a country where there is law. In a country where there is law people are not locked up for being who they are, belonging to a different ethnic group or being a practicing Muslim… they wouldn’t need to make such video testimonies…but for us, we have to do this…we are desperate to hear anything from our family.
Since 2018, he has posted a number of videos on a platform for testimonies called Uyghur pulse. He does not know whether his efforts have made any difference, positive or negative, to his family's fate. But at the least, the Chinese government is aware that the victims of the crackdown have not been forgotten, and that relatives living abroad will keep speaking out on their behalf.
In the Netherlands, Nejmidin struggles to make a new life for himself, so far from the close family he grew up with. What happened to his family continues to weigh heavily on him, as he shared:
Each time I want to say that my father and grandfather died at the hands of the Chinese government, I cannot stop crying… I find it very difficult to come to terms with why our family members had to die…there is no logical reason behind what happened.

author: Fazil Munir


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The long journey to Uyghur visibility: An interview with French author Sylvie Lasserre · Global Voices
Filip Noubel

Inside one of Kashgar‘s oldest tea-houses in 2007. Photo by Sylvie Lasserre, used with permission.
The situation of Uyghurs in China came to international attention quite recently, but for a long time it remained largely ignored. Global Voices talked to Sylvie Lasserre, a French author focusing on Central Asia, to find out why. Lasserre founded La Maison d'Asie Centrale, [The Central Asian House], a non-profit organization promoting Central Asian culture and issues, about which she writes in French on her blog. She now lives in Turkey where she continues to research the issue.
This interview was edited for brevity.
Cover of Sylvie Lasserre's book. Used with permission
Filip Noubel (FN) You wrote one of the first books in French about the Uyghurs. How did that happen?
Sylvie Lasserre (SL) In fact I wrote the first articles about Uyghur issues in 2007, when almost no one in France had heard about this nation. I published a portrait of one of the most famous Uyghur women and activists, Rebiya Kadeer, for the French magazine Le Monde2 in 2007, and then decided to go to her country in order to see what was really going on. After that trip I wrote several articles for French and international media, and then my first book, “Voyage au pays des Ouïghours – Turkestan chinois début du XXIe siècle” [“Journey to the land of the Uyghurs – Chinese Turkestan in early 21st Century”], was published in 2010 by the French publisher Cartouche. My goal was to give a voice to the Uyghurs, as it was clear they had none internationally. Two years later, the book was sold out. At the same time Cartouche went out of business, so this book could not be reprinted, and was lost for many years.
In November 2019, I was contacted by another editor who wanted to republish the book. Given the worsening of the situation of the Uyghurs, we agreed to enrich it with pictures and updates on new developments. The new book was published in May 2020 under the title: “Voyage au pays des Ouïghours – De la persécution invisible à l’enfer orwellien” [Journey to the Land of the Uyghurs – From invisible persecution to an Orwellian hell]. Today, it remains the only book in French covering Uyghur issues. I received a lot of requests for English and Turkish versions, I am now thinking about translating it.
Kashgar city at night, 2007. Photo by Sylvie Lasserre, used with permission.
FN You live in Turkey, where there is a significant Uyghur diaspora. Is there a solidarity between Turkic nations or identities? If there is, is it government-driven, or more people-driven? Are Uyghur issues covered in mainstream Turkish media?
SL During the events that took place in Urumqi in July 2009, I remember that the only country to use the word “genocide” was Turkey. Indeed, then Prime Minister Erdoğan said: “The incidents in China are, simply put, a genocide. There’s no point in interpreting this otherwise.” Exactly 11 years later, this word is beginning to surface here and there.
The Uyghur community in Turkey numbers over 10,000. Turkic nations share the same origins: cradled in the Altay mountains. Turks and Uyghurs do have many traditions and values in common, including music. They can understand each other quite well and, for an Uyghur, to learn Turkish is easy.
Uyghurs are very active in Turkey. I met some in Istanbul when I was writing the second part of my book and they were very supportive: the Uyghur person I contacted manage very quickly to find witnesses freed from the Chinese camps where many Uyghurs are kept, and even ensured the interviews were translated. Other Uyghurs I met in Istanbul showed similar eagerness: they were always willing to give their time and share their contacts. Their networks are not limited to Turkey, but extend to other countries in Europe and the rest of the world.
Turkish people seem very united with the Uyghurs. You will always see them waving a Turkish flag at a Uyghur demonstration.
Sylvie Lasserre, photo used with permission.
FN What about France? How is the Uyghur issue perceived in France? Who are its main advocates? And what are the main obstacles it faces?
SL The Uyghur community in France is the smallest anywhere in Europe, at under 1,000 people. French people are becoming more aware of the situation, but it takes time. When my first book was published in 2010, no one except a few journalists had heard about them. A decade later, I would say that approximately 30 percent of the French population knows: I was invited to speak about this issue in February 2020 to an audience concerned with the situation in Tibet. When I asked the audience the question: “Who has heard about Uyghurs?” about a third raised their hands. So, it is improving. Still, the two main obstacles remain widespread ignorance about the situation, and Chinese government propaganda.
There are two Uyghur associations in France. The Association des Ouïghours de France (Association of the Uyghurs of France) was created in 2008. As far as I remember, they have always been active, regularly organizing demonstrations to support Uyghurs in China. Its new president, Alim Omer, appointed in 2019, is very proactive and a wonderful communicator. He himself had to escape from China as a student in Urumqi, in order not to be jailed after a peaceful demonstration. In late 2009, a new organization, Oghuz, renamed Institut Ouïghour d’Europe in 2019, was created by a Uyghur, Dil Reyhan, who at that time was a student. It focuses on Uyghur culture and remains apolitical. It is unfortunate that, compared to what we see in Turkey, membership of French associations is small. This can be explained by the fact that most Uyghurs in France are students, and prefer a quiet life.
FN What are the best strategies to keep global public opinion informed and aware of the situation in Xinjiang?
SL Information is vital. It is necessary to keep informing people about the Uyghur issue by never stopping to write about it, and using social media. Although information is difficult to obtain, it is possible to get it with intensive research.
Paradoxically, by worsening its treatment of the Uyghur population, China helped to spread information as it went too far: high-tech systems producing an Orwellian surveillance network, DNA harvesting, mass internment in camps, torture, sterilization of women, etc. Even Uyghurs in the diaspora who kept silent until recently to protect their family in China, have started to speak out.
Results do appear: the international media cover this issue more often, ever more people are aware of what is happening in China, a law was adopted on June 17 in the United States against the Chinese leaders: the Uyghur Human Rights Policy Act. On July 7, Uyghur activists requested that the International Criminal Court investigate reports of “genocide” by China against the Uyghurs. The word genocide is starting to emerge. All this is the result of a long process: in fact, in such domains, things are changing very slowly, you have to succeed in reaching the general population. It take years but it works.


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Hong Kong protest supporters’ international lobby to ‘burn’ China for hurting the city · Global Voices
Winne Ko

I want to ‘laam chau’.” (If we burn, you burn with us.) Image from Stand News, used with permission.
To mark a year since the beginning of the anti-China extradition protests, Hong Kong online media outlet Stand News curated a series of articles reflecting on the opposition movement. In the following report, it interviewed Finn, a key member of a network calling for international sanctions against China for hurting Hong Kong's autonomy. The original report, in Chinese, was published on July 9, 2020. The following edited version, translated by Winnie Ko, is published on Global Voices under a content partnership agreement.
“Laam chau” (攬炒), which means mutually-assured destruction, has emerged as a popular political term in Hong Kong as a result of its anti-extradition protests.
The spirit of “laam chau” is manifested in the slogan, “If we burn, you burn with us”, reflected in the call for international sanctions against China’s policy in Hong Kong, which undermines the city’s autonomy under the “one country, two systems” principle.
The term, which originated from the username, “I want to laam chau”, on the Reddit-like forum LIHKG, has even been picked up by the pro-establishment camp, including Beijing’s Liaison Office in Hong Kong.
Finn (a pseudonym), the original person behind the username, laughed:
I never thought that the username I created would become a topic that all Hongkongers talk about.
Finn is not the only person behind the username. As the Hong Kong government refused to withdraw the extradition bill after the million people rally on June 9, 2019, he wrote on the forum and recruited a group of like-minded people to support Hong Kong’s protests from aboard.
“I want to laam chau” has quickly evolved into a team — one that Finn describes as “grassroots international lobbists”. Grassroots because its members are not political celebrities like pro-democracy activist Joshua Wong, neither do they have any existing political connections, political capital or fame.
Chief Executive Carrie Lam’s decision to push through the second reading of the extradition bill in the Legislative Council of Hong Kong on June 12, 2019, triggered the team’s first campaign. More than a hundred emails were sent to foreign politicians calling for their attention to the bill, and urging them to lobby their government to sanction major officials by nullifying their passports.
The aim was to influence the votes of the pro-establishment lawmakers, but while the campaign received more than 10,000 likes on LIHKG, very few foreign politicians responded to the call.
The team's follow-up, however, captured the world’s attention: In just a few hours, it crowdfunded more than half a million Hong Kong dollars for front-page coverage of its appeal to G20 leaders, which appeared in a dozen leading international newspapers on June 28, 2019.
Ever since, the team has become known as the “Fight for Freedom, Stand with Hong Kong” campaigners. They soon began inviting politicians from different countries to visit Hong Kong and observe the protests for themselves; Bob Seely, a parliamentarian with the Conservatives in the UK, made the trip at the end of August 2019.
That November, more than 20 politicians from abroad were invited to Hong Kong to observe the district council elections.
The “laam chau” groups across the world have been organising solidarity rallies, and reaching out to their own countries’ politicians in order to explain Hong Kong's political situation and persuade them to visit the city.
By mid-June 2020, the “laam chau” collective joined the Inter-Parliamentary Alliance on China (IPAC), an international political platform comprising parliamentarians from 13 countries to “help craft a proactive and strategic approach” on China-related issues.
One year on, “I want to laam chau” remains an influential account on LIHKG, the scale of its team has expanded threefold, and its members are located all over the world.
Finn believed that the “laam chau” team would be targeted by the newly passed Hong Kong national security Law, predicting:
[…] organisations, politicians, parliamentarians, students based in Hong Kong who are resisting on the international front, will definitely be suppressed.
Indeed, the discourse of “laam chau” is on the Chinese government's radar. Beijing’s Hong Kong and Macau Affairs Office (HKMAO) first mentioned the term in a September 2019 press briefing in which it associated the term with “terrorist sentiment” and “colour revolution”.
By May 2020, HKMAO issued another statement urging Hongkongers to “reject ‘laam chau’ and opt for development”.
For Beijing, ignoring the meaning of “mutual”, “laam chau” means “self-destruction” For the “laam chau” team, it is a response to Beijing’s destruction of Hong Kong. Finn added:
For Hongkongers or protesters, the target of ‘laam chau’ is the the CCP [Communist Party of China]. However, in the narrative of the pro-Beijing camp, the target has shifted to ‘all Hongkongers’. They have ignored the reality that Hongkongers have been burnt by the CCP for a number of decades, that’s why we want to burn the CCP in this struggle. They distorted the meaning of ‘laam chau’ on purpose.
He clarified that “laam chau” is a means rather than an end, that the target is not destruction, but rather a declaration to the CCP that it has to pay for hurting Hong Kong.
Saying that Hong Kong has entered “a dark era” with the passing of the national security law — which he sees as a major step by the CCP to destroy the city — Finn stressed that the ultimate objective of “laam chau” is to reclaim and liberate Hong Kong as a truly international city; loosening the CCP’s control plays a critical part.
Yet, the reins do not appear to be loosening. On July 1, 2020, a dozen protesters were arrested. A 23-year-old holding a “Liberate Hong Kong, revolution of our times” flag as he rode his motorcycle was charged under the national security law with inciting secession and engaging in a terrorist act. His bail was rejected. If convicted, he could face a minimum of three years’ imprisonment and a maximum life sentence. Pro-democracy shops, terrified of the potential fallout, were forced to clean up all their political posters overnight.
Finn foresaw international lobbying work as a key component in “burning” the CCP; under the current circumstances, the “laam chau” project relies heavily on Hongkongers residing overseas.
Meanwhile, international sanctions like the United States’ revocation of Hong Kong as a special tariff region, are also harming Hong Kong's economy, which Finn views as inevitable:
If we are to hurt the CCP, we have to remove its ‘white glove’ [i.e. the role of Hong Kong as middleman] to conceal the CCP’s secret transactions […] Hongkongers must pay this price. Only then can the CCP be hit; there is no free lunch in this world.
According to Finn, the success of international lobbying relies on the determination of Hongkongers:
The political struggle inside the Legco [legislative council], street protests and international support are interlinked, and each of them is indispensable.
In May 2020, the team launched a crowdfunding project to help continue its international lobbying and networking. Its goal is to raise 175,000 United States dollars; it has already hit 90 per cent of the target.
Money from the fund will be allocated to overseas Hongkongers engaged in lobbying, organising support groups, and coordinating solidarity rallies.

author: Winne Ko


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Solo protest in the Netherlands for the Uyghur cause: One man takes on the Chinese state · Global Voices
Guest Contributor

Screenshot from YouTube video uploaded by Gheni to seek support for his disappeared family members.
The author's identity has been kept anonymous for safety reasons.
Starting in 2017, the Uyghur community living in China has been subject to increased targeting and indiscriminate imprisonment by the Chinese authorities. This policy of racial and religious profiling has led many young Uyghurs to leave China or stay in exile, chiefly in Europe. The 11 million Uyghurs in the western region of Xinjiang in China are a Muslim Turkic nation that has been targeted by Beijing more systematically since Chinese leader Xi Jinping came to power in 2012. Widely portrayed as ‘motherland separatists’ or simply ‘terrorists’ in mainstream Chinese discourse – including government statements and the media – Uyghurs have been deprived of their most basic human rights, including freedom of religion, movement, and of using their native language.
The persecution of Uyghurs takes different forms, ranging from imprisonment, often with heavy sentences of over 10 years, and more recently, internment in camps where, according to many different testimonies and sources, over 1 million Uyghurs – and other Muslim minorities — are detained. Given the secrecy surrounding these internment camps, the fact that China presents them as ‘vocational training centers, exact numbers are difficult to come by, but hundreds and possibly thousands of people are believed to have died in detention. More detailed information is available in the Shahit Xinjiang Victims Database.
Global Voices interviewed Abdurehim Gheni, a 43-year-old native of Aksu prefecture in the south of Xinjiang. Gheni currently lives in the Netherlands, and in June 2018 started a regular solo protest in central Amsterdam.
The interview was conducted over the phone in Uyghur and edited for brevity.
Abdurehim Gheni is an educated man: he graduated from university and later worked as a chemistry teacher in his hometown of Aksu for a couple of years. But due to discrimination against Uyghurs he moved abroad and has been living in the Netherlands since 2007.
The last time Abdurehim met members of his family was in 2014 in Turkey. This does not sound so long ago, but it feels like a different time altogether. Briefly, around 2014, the Chinese authorities eased up the measures Uyghurs were subject to. It was relatively easy for them to receive passports for international travel, something that had always been difficult for those without the right connections. But this apparent relaxation ended abruptly for Gheni on May 23, 2017, as he tells Global Voices:
Since that day I have lost contact with all my relatives in China. Before I could always contact them by phone. May was the fasting month of Ramadan, so I tried to call everybody back home, but strangely, no one picked up. At first I thought they were all busy because of the festivities. At last my father answered the phone. He said: “Don't call us again. Just take care of yourself and your children.” Then after a few days I got a text message from my brother in which he wrote “You must not call us again! Don't contact us under any circumstances!” I was so confused. We didn't know anything about the camps or the intensified crackdown on the Uyghurs by the authorities. By the end of the year, we had heard about the camps, and from 2018 bad news just kept coming, each new piece of information worse than the last.
There has been no news at all about the 17 missing family members of Abdurehim Gheni, and he fears the worst:
Did the Chinese regime kill them all? I´m missing my father, stepmother, my brothers, my sisters in law and their children, my wife's siblings. They are all ordinary people, law-abiding citizens. My father is a retired bank manager, my older brother a businessman, and my younger brother used to work for the government at the Water Agency in our hometown in Aksu prefecture.
Known in Russia as the one-person demonstration (because of local legislation requiring police authorization for demonstrations involving more than one person), the solo protest is less known in Western Europe, but this is how Gheni decided to speak out about his family and the fate of thousands of other Uyghurs who have lost contact with their relatives in Xinjiang.
As he explains, he first joined an Uyghur rally in Amsterdam, chanting anti-China slogans. But as he recalls:
I noticed that of the bystanders, no one came up to ask us who we were or what we were demonstrating for. It seemed like no one cared, and that we were just doing this for ourselves. Some time later, I saw a man standing all by himself on Dam square, with signs and folders to raise awareness of the Palestinian issue. I saw people coming up to him to talk and ask questions. I did the same, and got to know him. This way I realized that a dialogue seemed like the best way for me to raise awareness of how the Chinese regime is oppressing Uyghurs, including my family.
Since June 23, 2018, Gheni has been solo protesting every week-end until the COVID-19 pandemic hit the Netherlands in spring 2020. He started his protest again on July 13, as can be seen in his Facebook video, and has attracted new supporters, including diplomats:
Today, the US ambassador in the Netherlands, Mr. Pete Hoekstra, met with Uighurs in the Netherlands to hear about the…
Posted by Abdurehim Gheni Uyghur on Wednesday, July 15, 2020
As he says, he is not alone anymore: “I have talked to a lot of people that had never heard of the Uyghurs before. A couple of them now join me on the square to protest.”
Gheni is determined to maintain high visibility: he has written letters to the reigning king of the Netherlands, the country's prime minister and foreign minister, asking for help to find information on his family's whereabouts. He has also posted a video on the Shahit Xinjiang Victims Database site (with English subtitles):
Gheni concludes: “I know that if I was still living in China, I would likely be detained in a camp, sent to prison, or even dead by now. But I was lucky enough to be living abroad. So as I see it, I have this chance to be the voice of the voiceless.”

author: Guest Contributor


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How does Rwanda’s genocide ideology law regulate speech online? · Global Voices
GV Sub-Saharan Africa

People coming back from a market in Musanze in the Northern Province of Rwanda., September 2017. Photo by Cyril Ndegeya, Used with permission.
This article is part of UPROAR, a Small Media initiative that is urging governments to address digital rights challenges at the Universal Periodic Review (UPR).
The law against genocide ideology and divisionism has had a chilling effect on freedom of expression in Rwanda.
The traumatic memory of the 1994 genocide still hangs over many Rwandans, even those too young to remember it. Up to 1 million Rwandans were killed by Hutu extremists. Most victims were ethnic Tutsis, but some Hutus who refused to kill were also murdered.
Following the genocide, legislation was created to outlaw hate speech and incitement to genocide and divisionism, as part of measures to reconcile Rwandans and prevent a similar tragedy.
In many countries — including Rwanda — debates about how to reconcile competing values of free speech and non-discrimination have stirred for decades. But the rapid rise of the internet has raised new questions about the regulation of hate speech and the limits of freedom of expression online.
In Rwanda, the genocide law is often used to silence dissenting voices.
In October 2008, the Rwandan government led by the ruling Rwandan Patriotic Front, enacted a law against genocide ideology and divisionism, and other laws to encourage unity and reconciliation among Rwandans.
The laws restricted any speech deemed hateful or promoting ethnic or racial divisions and prohibited political parties from forming based along ethnic lines. These laws are enshrined in the constitution adopted in 2003 and revised in 2015.
The country committed to its fight against genocide ideology in the 2003 constitution, but the concept was not defined or proscribed by Rwandan law until October 2008.
Article 38 of the 2003 constitution enshrines the right to freedom of expression, including freedom of the press and information.
The same article, however, imposes an important limitation on such freedoms. It states that ‘’freedom of speech and freedom of information shall not prejudice public order and good morals, and the propagation of ethnic, regional, racial or discrimination or any form of division shall be punishable by law.’’
Prohibiting hate speech is a legitimate aim, especially given the Rwandan context where the media was much politicized during the period preceding the civil war and genocide.
Two media outlets further played a role in inciting genocidal participation: the infamous hate radio “Radio Television Libre des Mille Collines” (RTLM) and the Hutu’s extremist newspaper Kangura.
In practice, the law against genocide ideology threatens freedom of expression both online and offline, prescribing heavy prison sentences of up to seven years in prison and fines for any offender who disseminates content deemed genocide ideology in public spaces — including social media — through documents, speeches, pictures, media and other means.
Rwanda’s hate speech legislation is characterised by broad and vaguely defined provisions that allow authorities to silence critical and dissenting voices when they apply it to journalists, bloggers, activists, and opposition politicians.
During a 2015 testimony before the African Court of Justice, Laurent Munyandilikirwa, a Rwandan human rights activist, pointed out the ambiguities in the law by saying:
Genocide ideology law is a form of intimidation, if you dare to criticize what is not going well in this country, you are tagged as a genocide denier, so citizens and members of the civil society prefer to shut up.
Through this legislation, the government greatly limits the diversity of the information landscape, both online and offline.
Authorities often order editors of online news sites to remove or delete content that is critical of government officials. This trend of shrinking freedom of expression spaces started during the run up to the 2010 presidential election campaign, where legitimate political dissent was conflated with genocide ideology and deemed disruptive to national unity.
This legislation has created an environment of self-censorship for online journalists, bloggers and ordinary users. Fearing reprisal and prosecution, citizens refrain from exercising their constitutional right to freedom of expression.
Take the case of Joseph Nkusi, a Rwandan citizen who lived in Norway from 2009 to 2016. During that time, he produced blog posts known for their sharp criticisms against the administration of President Kagame. When Nkusi was deported to Rwanda after Norway’s Immigration Services rejected his asylum application, he was immediately arrested and prosecuted on trumped-up charges of conspiracy, genocide ideology and incitement against the state, charges motivated by his political views evidenced in his blog. He was convicted and sentenced by the high court of Rwanda to serve 10 years in prison on March 29, 2018.
There are also numerous scenarios in which vague wording of the law is deliberately exploited to stifle public dissent or criticism.
Take, for instance, the case of Victoire Ingabire Umuhoza, an opposition politician who is often harassed and denounced by media close to the regime as espousing “genocide ideology.” Ingabire was arrested in 2010 over a speech in which she discussed “problems with reconciliation and the lack of recognition of Hutu who were killed,” according to Amnesty International. In October 2012, she was sentenced to eight years in jail after she was convicted of “grossly minimizing the genocide” and  “conspiracy to harm the existing authority and the constitutional principles using terrorism, armed violence or any other type of violence.”
Over the past few years, self-censorship among journalists has seriously limited their ability to inform the public. A 2015 report on the state of media freedom in the country noted:
Journalists fear publishing information about authorities and institutions, for diverse reasons, some are afraid of harassment or some of them want to avoid of being accused like some of their former colleagues because of the history of this country.
Overall, citizens fear being targeted because of their personal opinions.
It is critical for the Rwandan government to amend and revise the genocide law in order to deter hate speech in a more effective way and prevent misuse against legitimate political dissent.
Citizens must be allowed to exercise their rights to freedom of expression in line with the constitution and international human rights obligations such as the Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) and the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights (ACHPR), to which Rwanda is a full member and party.

author: GV Sub-Saharan Africa


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‘Invisible hands’: How millions of domestic workers fare under COVID-19 · Global Voices
Emma Lewis, Belen Febres-Cordero, Saoussen Ben Cheikh, Mina Nowrozi, Violeta Camarasa, Juliana Harsianti, Romina Navarro, Giovana Fleck

Part of a 9-post illustration series on Instagram, by Brazilian artists Leandro Assis and Triscila Oliveira. Used with permission.
According to the International Labor Organization (ILO), there are 67 million domestic workers around the world — 80 percent are women. Domestic work takes place in the private sphere and is often invisible.
Workers clean, cook, take care of children or elderly family members, often without a contract or with poor legal protection. Despite being “at the frontlines” of COVID-19, they are rarely part of COVID-19 response plans.
During the pandemic and under confinement measures to stop the spread of COVID-19, how are female domestic workers faring around the world?
Most domestic work is informal, leaving workers vulnerable, especially in times of crisis like COVID-19.
In Argentina, which has spent more than 100 days in lockdown, about 70 percent of domestic workers are in the informal sector, according to a study by the University of Lanús (UNLa) and the Center for Study and Labor Research.
During ongoing confinement measures, this means that no work equals no payment. However, many women manage to get to their workplaces, despite lacking permission to go out during the quarantine. Only 33 percent of workers protected by a contract received their full salary without going to work since the pandemic began, according to the same study.
Still in Argentina, the lack of legal certainty leaves workers vulnerable and reluctant to complain. For instance, interviewees in the same study fear losing their jobs, getting infected and infecting their families. Also, an increasing number of employers have resorted to legal tricks to make them quit, pay them less, or change their category into “caregivers” so they can be “essential workers”. Overall, the union reported that 70 percent of domestic employees suffered labor abuse during the quarantine.
In Ecuador, the vast majority of domestic workers are also doing the job without contracts or contracts that offer little protection. Nearly 85 percent of domestic workers have been fired during the pandemic, according to the national union.
In Tunisia, domestic worker Salma told Global Voices:
We are the invisible hands. Our work is not valued.  We don’t exist for the families we serve nor do we exist for the state. With COVID-19 and the lockdown, we were the first to lose our jobs without any compensation or support.
When there are contracts, many of them are unclear and weak. This is the case for Indonesia – which has at least 4.2 million domestic workers. In 2019, the Indonesian National Network for Domestic Worker Advocacy polled 668 domestic workers in seven regions of the country and found that 98.2 percent of the respondents earned only between 20 and 30 percent of Indonesia’s minimum wage.
Sometimes, contracts with large institutions can go wrong, too. For example, in Afghanistan, women who clean the offices of the Ministry of Finance were first allowed to stay at home and continue to be paid. Yet, when the context of COVID-19 worsened, they had to return to work at the risk of losing their salary. As they are the main providers for their families, they returned to the office. Fawzia, a single mom with four children, told Global Voices:
If we keep [ourselves] safe from corona, we will die out of hunger.
Many of the women cleaning, babysitting and cooking for pay around the globe migrated from another country to get the job. For example, there are an estimated 2.1 million migrant domestic workers in the Middle East. The majority are women from Asian and African countries such as Sri Lanka, the Philippines, Bangladesh, Nepal, Indonesia, Kenya and Ethiopia.
Across the Middle East, employees may not be paid at all, and as a result, many female migrant domestic workers are unable to send remittances back home. This not only adds to the emotional and psychological strain suffered by migrant workers, but it also represents a loss of income for their families in their country of origin. In Hong Kong, too, debt levels among the Filipino and Indonesian migrant communities have increased during the pandemic.
In cities such as Hong Kong or Singapore, migrant domestic work is regulated separately. The law requires migrant domestic workers to live with their employers. This means that during the weeks of confinement, for them to stay home meant they had to stay at work during their rest days.
The COVID-19 crisis has once again sparked debate around the live-in rule. Not only does it blur the line between work and personal life, but also often involves inadequate accommodation and insufficient food, or lack of privacy and security. A research report conducted in 2016 by the Justice Center in Hong Kong stated that  “66.3 percent of MDWs [Migrant Domestic Workers] surveyed show strong signs of exploitation but do not trigger enough indicators to be counted as being in forced labor.” It is a grey zone.
Though Hong Kong was never under strict lockdown, the government repeatedly and publicly asked domestic workers to stay at home on their rest days during the peak of COVID-19 from January to April. Some workers reported that they were asked to resign if they left the workplace on their rest day. Only in early April did Law Chi-Kwon, Secretary of Labour and Welfare, appeal through his blog to both workers and employers to “exercise mutual understanding on rest day arrangements.”
In the Gulf countries, migration is regulated by the kafala system. Migrant workers’ visas are tied to their employers and they are not allowed to leave or change employers without their employer's permission. If they do, they can be arrested and punished for “absconding” with fines, detention and deportation.
Some domestic workers worry when their employers do not provide them with a mask or hand sanitizer as a mandatory health protocol during the pandemic.
In Rio de Janeiro, the first COVID-19 death was a 63-year-old woman who was a domestic worker. The woman — whose name has been omitted in media coverage at the request of her family — got infected by her employer who had come back from a trip to Italy. The worker was requested to live at the employer’s house during part of the week due to the distance between her home and work. On March 16, she started to feel sick and died the next day.
The most recent Brazilian data collected on domestic work shows that the country had approximately 6.1 million domestic workers in 2016, of whom 92 percent were women and 71 percent were black. Only 4 percent are unionized. There is currently no specific legislation in Brazil that makes domestic work non-essential during the pandemic. Workers can be fired if they do not go to their workplace.
In Ecuador, too, as the economy starts to reopen, more domestic workers are resuming their work and worry about their safety in this transition. The Ministry of Labour requires that employers of private companies ensure that workers are provided with safe transportation and bio-safety measures, such as masks, to protect their health. However, this has not always been the case for domestic workers, who have felt vulnerable to COVID-19 in their commuting and work environments.
Unions in several countries try to protect domestic workers’ labor rights. In Jamaica, the Jamaica Household Workers Union is a non-governmental, non-partisan, voluntary organization that represents the needs and interests of thousands of domestic workers. Official figures record 58,000 domestic workers in the Caribbean country.
The Union’s founder and President, Shirley Pryce, who received the Caribbean Community’s Woman of the Year award in 2017, told Global Voices that, like thousands of other workers in Jamaica’s informal economy, domestic workers live “hand to mouth,” and have suffered more than any other group during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Her union is calling for the government to set up an emergency fund to help domestic workers in such situations.
Pryce stressed major concerns over domestic violence, which has increased during the pandemic due to economic stress, more time spent indoors with spouses and overcrowded living conditions. She told Global Voices:
Domestic workers are the backbone of the society. While the government’s primary focus is to contain the spread of the virus, the risks emerging from shortcomings in labor and social protection, and the impact on the most vulnerable groups in society, have increased and the situation is critical.
In Singapore, where some employers have let go of their domestic workers during the pandemic, the Center for Domestic Employee reminds employers to treat their helpers fairly. Civil society also pressures regional leaders to not neglect domestic and migrant workers who work within Southeast Asia.
In light of these difficulties, an app was launched in Ecuador, which aims to improve the rights and working conditions of domestic workers. It combines information relevant to domestic workers so that they can find it in one place. Through surveys, this app also gathers data regarding the current working conditions of domestic workers — such as salary, overtime payment, and work hours — in order to help users identify any rights violations that might be taking place and guide them through legal actions if necessary.
In Brazil, a series of cartoon comics were shared on Instagram to raise awareness about the lives of domestic workers. They show stories of women who don’t have the option to stay at home and who worry about putting themselves — and the ones around them — at risk.
Domestic workers, developers, artists, unions, and activists throughout the globe work so that the world's “invisible hands” may step out of the shadows, even during a pandemic.


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Is Namibia walking a fine line between Chinese and European spy technology? · Global Voices
Ray Mwareya

Youth pose for a photo capture at a conference in Namibia. Image credit: Yusuf Kalyango Jnr (CC BY-SA 2.0).
This article is part of UPROAR, a Small Media initiative that is urging governments to address digital rights challenges at the Universal Periodic Review (UPR).
On paper, there are little if any restrictions on access to the internet in Namibia, which is one of Africa's most stable democracies and least inhabited nations.
However, recent bold moves to acquire various forms of spyware have posed a dilemma to observers: Are Namibia intelligence agents deftly walking a fine line to acquire digital spy equipment from both China and the European Union?
Digital surveillance may be underway in Namibia, given the inventory of spy technologies acquired over the last few years — especially public closed-circuit TV gadgets and International Mobile Subscriber Identity-catchers (IMSI), says Admire Mare, a senior lecturer in the communication department at Namibia University of Science and Technology. Namibia is not alone as, “many countries in  Southern Africa have been expanding their surveillance capabilities as part of a growing wave of authoritarianism in the region,” Mare told Global Voices (GV).
Frederico Links, a research associate for the Institute for Public Policy Research, agrees. “Evidence indicates that Namibia has acquired sophisticated communications interception and surveillance capabilities, and that those capabilities have been deployed,” said Links, who is also the chair of ACTION Coalition, which advocates for greater access to information in Namibia.
IMSI catchers, commonly called “grabbers” in the spy industry, are devices that can be placed conveniently to trigger GSM mobile cell phone base stations to halt encryption of users’ voice, video or text calls. All digital correspondence that goes through an IMSI-catcher can be harvested, viewed, copied or heard. With the help of centrally-registered SIM cards, firmly courted by Namibian authorities, an IMSI-catcher is a perfect eye inside a national cellphone network, says Yasin Kakande, a TED fellow and Africa online privacy watcher, in a Zoom interview with GV.
In 2017, datasets from the UK Department For International Trade, revealed that Namibia’s secret police agency, The Namibia Central Intelligence Service (NCIS), ordered and bought IMSI-catcher eavesdropping gear from the British company CellXion Ltd, which markets “cellular intelligence solutions.”
Over the last decade, Namibia’s state intelligence police have been robustly active in the European spy gear retail market.
The Coalition against Unlawful Surveillance Exports (CAUSE) revealed in June 2015 that Namibia made bids to purchase internet eavesdropping armoury in Switzerland as far back as 2013. However, this attempt was rebuffed when the Swiss government began to clamp down on such exports, fearing that rogue states could use such machinery to harm domestic pro-democracy opponents. Swiss authorities promptly froze shipments of internet surveillance gadgets and software to Namibia, Ethiopia, Indonesia, Yemen, Qatar, Malaysia, Taiwan, Turkmenistan and the United Arab Emirates.
In October 2014, Namibia was outed in an audacious bid to acquire internet scooping gadgets from the notorious Italian software vendor The Hacking Team (rebranded as Memento Labs after it was acquired by another cybersecurity company in 2019). An embarrassing data breach from WikiLeaks exposed Namibia as one of Hacking Team’s proposed customers and the mushrooming deal fell through. The Italian government also seized the moment to cancel Hacking Team’s permission to export intrusion malware.
The Campaign Against Arms Trade lobby alleges that in 2011, and between 2015 through 2017, Namibia carried out transactions with the Danish corporation Sys-tematic, which sells expertise, web control equipment and advisory for states that seek “solutions, services and know-how for surveillance, prevention, analysis, threat assessment and crisis handling.”
Then there is the big elephant in the room – Huawei, of China. The company’s relationship with Namibia is over a decade-old, as the company is credited with installing 3G, 4G and now possibly 5G infrastructure.
Huawei, arguably one of the world’s most enthusiastic sellers of web control technology, has an enormous presence in Namibia. The company is both the supplier and fixer of gadgetry and infrastructure of Telecom Namibia, the national telecommunications operator.
Along with MTC, a Namibia government-owned cellphone operator, Huawei has been locked arm-in-arm in a technological transfer relationship, especially via its showpiece SingleRAN radio access technology that allows Namibia’s mobile telecom operators multiple wireless services on a single network. Up to 2 million Namibians lean on Huawei-supplied technology to access voice communication, internet and digital TV, thanks to hundreds of radio base stations and thousands of miles of fiber-optic lines stationed in Namibia by Huawei.
In all of this, “no one is sure whether this close partnership has allowed Huawei to have backdoor sneak into Namibia’s internet vault as it reportedly did at the African Union headquarters in Addis Ababa, where the Chinese giant built up a computer network and craftily began to harvest data from the shadows,” worries Yasin Kakande.
It is exactly the ultra-secretive digital-control maneuvers of Namibia’s intelligence agency which baffles activists. “It's hard to measure the internet surveillance capabilities of Namibia, given the opaque nature of the budget of the security services sector and the way government-owned telecommunication operators deal with foreign service providers. Transparency is the missing link in all this,” adds Mare, the professor. “It’s a secretive space, hence informants won’t come to the front to confirm or disconfirm the practice.”
Observers notice something bizarre but interesting: When the top publication The Namibian ran the story “(Namibia) Spy agency gets N$217m…over 3 years” ($12,97 million USD) in 2019, observers suspected that some of the cash is to be slated for buying internet surveillance gadgetry. However, in the national budget these items are often hidden under clever headings like construction, renovations and improvements.
Namibia denies accusations that it is building an internet war chest to effortlessly check up on its domestic critics. Charles Siyauya from the Ministry of Information and Communication Technology, wrote in response to a question from Global Voices that “to spy on citizen/s is the least on the priority list of execution of any progressive government. Only a predatory or failed government can spy on its citizens. Intelligence is about protecting the country and citizens from external and internal threats.”
Namibia, like any state actor, has legitimate needs for using digital tools to guard its peace. It’s the secretive nature of the authorities’ digital manoeuvres that is unsettling. When purchased in secret—and used without the proper independent oversight— surveillance tools are a threat to fundamental rights and freedoms, including the right to privacy and freedom of expression.

author: Ray Mwareya