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Student Union of Thailand president arrested over anti-government protest · Global Voices
Prachatai

Student leader Jutatip Sirikhan covered herself in white paint in a symbolic act of protest following her release. Photo and caption from Prachatai
This article is from Prachatai, an independent news site in Thailand, edited and republished by Global Voices as part of a content-sharing agreement.
Student Union of Thailand (SUT) president Jutatip Sirikhan has been arrested while on the way to university on September 1 for her participation in the July 18 mass protest.
Jutatip was arrested while in a taxi on her way to class at Thammasat University’s Tha Prachan campus in Bangkok. She went live on Facebook at 12:50 pm on September 1 when plainclothes police officers stopped the taxi she was in and delivered an arrest warrant.
Jutatip was taken to Samranrat Police Station. An officer accompanied her in another taxi to the station, since she did not feel safe enough to travel in the private car the officers brought to arrest her. She stayed live on Facebook and read out passages from the Thai translation of Thomas Paine’s Common Sense during the travel to the station.
She was then taken to the Bangkok Criminal Court and was granted bail and released at 5:20 pm in the custody of a lecturer at Thammasat University. The Court did not require her to immediately pay the 100,000 baht (3,190 US dollars) bail but imposed the condition that she does not repeat the actions for which she was being charged – the same condition given to everyone else who has been arrested and released on the same charges.
Jutatip is the 14th activist to be arrested for participating in the July 18 mass protest. Fifteen other participants at the protest have also received a summons and reported to Samranrat Police Station to hear the charges against them on August 28. Jutatip was charged with sedition and violation of the Emergency Decree and the Communicable Diseases Act, among other charges.
Jutatip appeared in front of the Criminal Court after her release and gave a short press conference.
I didn’t intend to run away to begin with. I know I have an arrest warrant. I have been waiting to be arrested for a very long time, but it didn’t happen until today. Each time someone gets arrested, there will be slurs against our side that we did not protest peacefully.
I am a student and I have been harassed by the police for months, for years. Why is there no compensation for me? Why must there be compensation for the police who are servants of the dictatorship?
There should actually be a summons first, but what happened was that the police brought the arrest warrant and arrested me. It’s extremely unfair to a student. They followed me with my phone signal, followed me from where I’m staying. They threatened my home, they threatened my family, they took a warrant to my house, so now we have to escalate our protest. Everything is supported by the Constitution.
We pay our taxes. We must receive protection from the state, not harassment from the state. So today I have to express myself symbolically that we can do this. We must stand by our rights and freedoms. Throwing paint is also something that can be done.
Jutatip then threw a bucket of white paint over herself while holding up her hand in the three-finger ‘Hunger Games’ salute. She said that the white paint represents purity and justice, and that they are demanding justice back.
We are showing that this is freedom, this is the kind of expression we can do. Even if now it is throwing paint over ourselves, it is a way of showing that we can throw paint at any time. We can throw paint over those with power, because those with power throw legal charges over us, throw bullets at us without exception.
Paint can be washed out, but we can’t wash out injustice.
Afterward, Jutatip thanked the lecturer who came to make bail for her and the people who came to support her and helped the crowd clean the paint off the sidewalk in front of the footpath in front of the Court.
“We won’t stop fighting until we win in everything, including monarchy reform and a new constitution,” Jutatip said.


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Sudan needs a legal framework for cryptocurrency · Global Voices
Mohamed Suliman

Photo by André François McKenzie on Unsplash.
The regulation of cryptocurrency poses a challenge for many countries and the technology is still illegal in a handful of nations. Since the first digital currency, Bitcoin, was invented in 2009 by the mysterious “Satoshi Nakamoko,” many other cryptocurrencies have been created. A major feature of these currencies is that they do not require a central bank to exist; rather they rely on decentralized computer networks and an internal protocol. Coming after the collapse of the global banking economy in 2008, the idea of this type of currency, which does not rely on central banks and governments like conventional currency, received a great deal of interest.
Cryptocurrencies cannot be counterfeited, and transactions are recorded and tracked on electronic ledgers so that the same “coin” is not spent twice by the same person; users are anonymous, as are transactions—both recorded by numbers only. This inherent flexibility and the ability to move large amounts of this type of money anonymously make cryptocurrencies valuable for many kinds of transactions, including for illegal activity. Cryptocurrencies, therefore, need to be regulated by the state to avoid misuse by malicious actors and to settle disputes between those who exchange them.
It may seem a strange concept for a government to regulate a system that prides itself on being apart from government involvement, but because of their growing use, many countries have had to try to understand how this system works and have issued policies to regulate cryptocurrencies. Sudan, a country where some tech-savvy groups and start-ups have begun to adopt cryptocurrencies is in need of such a legal framework.
World map showing the legal status of bitcoin by country/territory in 2014. The status of the cryptocurrency has since changed in several jurisdictions. Image by Habarithor (CC BY-SA 3.0).
In the past years, cryptocurrency has been adopted by many sectors in Sudan. The best example is Softwex, a hosting company that is run by Sudanese entrepreneurs, and uses Bitcoin as a payment system. The company also organizes Bitcoin workshops and social media accounts that raise awareness about Bitcoin. The Bitcoin Meetup Sudan group was founded in 2013 and has over 2,800 members. According to an interview in QBIT Times with Mohamed Osman Elawad, co-founder of the Sudan Blockchain Community, digital currencies are especially popular among young developers and the group’s members are actively working to make the system viable for moving money out of the country and buying goods abroad. One of the reasons that Elawad thinks digital currencies can be useful in Sudan is because it is a “sanctioned country” and also one in which there is a ban of unlicensed foreign fiat trading by the government. “Therefore, remittances are not easy and involve a high cost via official channels which make crypto the easiest and affordable way to transfer money.”
A published study corroborates Elawad's analysis by explaining how cryptocurrency has been used to circumvent economic sanctions imposed on Sudan by the US in 1997, which prohibited banks from transferring money to Sudan from abroad; however, there are no published figures or studies estimating the amount of transferred funds.
Cryptocurrency was also a topic in the last election campaign, where its adoption was proposed by one of the presidential candidates as a strategy to democratize financial policy. In a country with only 31 percent internet penetration, however, this sounds unrealistic at this time. Nevertheless, the acceptance of Bitcoin by users in Sudan has also been high. In a recently published report, by Bitcoin Magazine that analyzed the traffic to cryptocurrency exchanges, Sudan was mentioned as one of the countries that “showed high demand for cryptocurrencies, despite the low trading volume.”
Regulation of cryptocurrency is not an easy process, however. Governments that have attempted to do so have faced many challenges, starting with finding a proper classification for this type of currency. This year, for example, authorities in France, Germany, and Australia, “issued decisions with three different interpretations of the nature of Bitcoin: as a currency, a financial instrument that is applied as a means of exchange among individuals or legal entities, and as security.” In Russia, new legislation defined bitcoin as “property but not legal tender.” Central banks around the world vary in their positions, from prohibiting trading in cryptocurrency to merely issuing warnings.
Advocates for the regulation of cryptocurrency cite many examples where they can be used for criminal activities, Allen and Overy listed examples that include human trafficking, child pornography, hacking and identity theft, market manipulation and fraud, and money laundering, in general, given its inherent nature of an anonymity and crossing borders, the regulation also provides the legal framework for taxing those who sell and exchange cryptocurrency. The regulation of cryptocuurnecies will also benefit and safeguard the financial system against any systemic risk as a result of a cyberattack. Spring 2020 cryptocurrencies Crime and anti-money laundering report mentioned that in the “first five months of 2020, crypto thefts, hacks, and frauds totaled $1.36 billion, suggesting 2020 could see the second-highest value in crypto crimes ever recorded.”
Some argue that regulation is against the basic nature of decentralization, and any attempt to set a legal framework “will only end in tears—stifling innovation and putting digital currencies at a disadvantage to fiat, which central banks remain determined to protect.”
According to the Central Bank of Sudan (CBoS), there are 34 banks in Sudan's banking system. The Electronic Banking System (EBS) is a company that operates under the control of the Bank of Sudan; it offers an e-payment system that includes debit and credit cards and mobile-phone payment. The current legal framework addresses electronic payment in general but does not cover cryptocurrencies, because the Electronic Transactions Act, 2007 was enacted before the rise of these virtual currencies. However, there are still many strong measures in this Act, such as protecting the secrecy of information and detailing the electronic contracting process.
In June 2020, Sudan joined the Better Than Cash Alliance, as a step in line with the government Digital Transformation Agency, which aims to modernize the government services and payment system. This new digital environment and shift in the culture may help in any future adoption of cryptocurrency at the state level.
Given that only roughly one-third of the Sudanese population has internet access, cryptocurrencies might not be an alternative payment option for a large part of society, and the adoption now might be limited to certain areas such as the capital, Khartoum, and within tech companies and investors.
Regulation of cryptocurrencies in Sudan will ensure more security for all stakeholders; it will also protect the country from harmful use and illegal activities. Moreover, it will provide the necessary legal framework for the government and development organizations to adopt cryptocurrency in their future projects. This is why regulatory bodies, such as the Central Bank, must start an open discussion with companies and user communities to amend the current Act to include articles that regulate the cryptocurrency.

source: news-globalvoices

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

author: Mohamed Suliman


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‘We could present our revolution at a design festival’: a Belarusian artist reflects on protest imagery · Global Voices
Filip Noubel

Symbols of Belarus’  protest movement. On the left, a red heart on a white background reflects the colours of the historical flag of Belarus flown by opponents of Lukashenka. On the right, a fist holding a paintbrush symbolises artists’ role the protests. It is held by Uladzimir Hramovich, creator of the symbol. Photo (c): Violetta Savchits, used with permission.
When the results of the August 9 presidential election in Belarus were announced, the country erupted in protest. Demonstrators continue to take to the streets against Alyaksandr Lukashenka, who has ruled this eastern European country since 1994 and had attempted to secure a smooth transition into a sixth consecutive term. Things have not gone as he planned; the authorities have used extreme violence against peaceful protesters, drawing international attention and condemnation.
One of the many distinctive aspects of this movement, besides the prominent role played by women, is the richness and diversity of its visual messaging. Protesters largely fly Belarus’ former national flag, which was in official use from independence in 1991 until 1994. In recent years, it became an unofficial symbol of resistance to Lukashenka's government, and so did the colours white and red, which can be seen widely both on protesters’ placards and their social media posts.
I spoke to the Belarusian designer Darya Sazanovich, who is based in Germany and works under the artistic name sheeborshee, to understand the visual language of Belarus’ protest movement. Sazanovich has studied and worked in Belarus, Lithuania, and Ukraine; her work has gained international prominence in recent weeks. The artist shared her reflections with GlobalVoices after a recent trip to the Belarusian capital Minsk. The interview has been edited for brevity and style.
Filip Noubel (FN): While you have lived abroad for years, you return to your home country very often. You were in Minsk just a few days ago. How would you describe what is happening in Belarus?
A bleeding hand representing the historical colours of Belarus, white-red-white. Illustration (c): Darya Sazanovich, used with permission.
Дарья Сазанович (ДС):  Как многие уже точно подметили ежедневное настроение беларуса это такая синусоида, где нижняя черта это отчаяние и бессилие от постоянного насилия и задержаний, а верхняя — слезы радости и гордости, когда видишь тысячи красивых и свободных людей вместе, когда не веришь что инициативы солидарности и помощи возникают за 5 минут в телеграм чатах и тут же решают проблемы. Днем это мирный спокойный протест, а вечером действительно страшно добираться домой. Все 2 недели я проходила с небольшим вещь-мешком, где были вещи, которые понадобились бы мне при задержании. Странная новая реальность. Меня конечно же очень радует то, как активны женщины всех возрастов. У протеста однозначно женское лицо, но это не только Тихановская. Происходит действительно много важных и сложных процессов. У власти через день меняется метод подавления протеста, но и люди тоже придумывают все новые способы сопротивления.  Любые точные прогнозы делать сложно и наверное невозможно. Но точно можно сказать, что Беларусь никогда не будет прежней и у этой власти нет шансов удержаться. Вопрос времени.
Darya Sazanovich (DS): As many have already pointed out, the public mood in Belarus is a kind of wave. On the one hand, there are tears of joy and pride caused by the beautiful scenes of thousands of free people marching together, none of whom can quite believe how much solidarity and support can be created immediately with just a five minute Telegram post. On the other hand, there is the despair and weakness caused by constant violence and detentions [of protesters]. The public mood oscillates between the two. During the day, there are peaceful quiet protests, but it is really scary to return home in the evenings. During the two weeks of my stay in Minsk, I always walked with a small bag of essentials I would need if I were detained. It's a strange new reality. I'm particularly happy to see how active women of all ages have become. This protest has a female face, and I am not just talking about the opposition leader Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya. A lot of important and complex processes are underway. The government changes its approach to resisting the protests every day, so the protesters come up with new forms of resistance. It is difficult and probably impossible to make any detailed predictions about what might happen. But we can say with some certainty that Belarus will never be the same again, and that this government has no chance of staying in power. It is just a matter of time.
FN: Ever since August 9, we have seen the importance of a visual language and vivid colours grow in importance in the protests. Why is that element so central?
ДС: Да даже до выборов! Художников очень сильно разозлила история с изъятием картины Ева Хаима Сутина и с тех пор никто не думает успокаиваться. Я тоже включилась примерно в тот момент, сперва делая какие-то инстраграм маски,  а потом подготавливала печатные макеты плакатов, для тех кто выходил на акции солидарности (в основном в Германии), в Беларуси с плакатом до недавнего времени вообще нельзя было появляться на улице без последствий.
А вообще радостно, что у нас есть бело-красно-белый флаг и не нужно ничего придумывать. Эстетически это очень сбалансированное сочетание и визуал всегда получается говорящий и не навязчивый. Что точно не выйдет с красно-зеленым сочетанием, что власть использует сейчас. Исторически флаг был создан как символ независимой Беларуси, а после так как флаг был смещен самим Лукашенко, то логично стал цветами оппозиции. Правда долго оппозиции с достаточно явной националистической повесткой. В 2020 это не так, бчб (бела-чырвона-белы) для всех, кто за перемены.
Как кто-то уже шутил, что беларусы страна копирайтеров и дизайнеров. Поэтому все красиво оформлено. Подадим потом нашу революцию на фестиваль дизайна (шутка).
DS: That was the case even before the elections! Artists were incensed by the confiscation of Chaim Sutin's painting “Eva”, and nobody plans to de-escalate that issue. I also joined the protest movement at that time, first by creating masks on Instagram and then I started to make printed stencils of poster designs for those participating in solidarity demonstrations (mostly in Germany). In Belarus, until recently, you couldn't really show up in public holding a poster without serious consequences.
In any case, it makes me happy that we already have this white-red-white flag; we don't have to invent any [more major symbols]. Aesthetically, it is a well balanced combination and the visual result speaks to us without being too intrusive. That cannot be said about the red-green combination used on the official flag [based on the flag of Soviet Belarus and restored by Lukashenka in 1995 – ed.]. Historically speaking, the white-red-white flag was created as a symbol of Belarusian independence, and after Lukashenka disposed of it, it logically became a symbol of the opposition. To be honest, for a long time this flag was the symbol of an opposition with a nationalist agenda. But that is no longer true; in 2020, the white-red-white flag is flown by everybody who wants change.
Somebody once joked that Belarus is a country of copywriters and designers, which is why everything is so well designed. Perhaps later we'll enter our revolution in a design festival (that's just a joke, by the way!)
Belarusian law enforcement conduct a search of an activist's house. Illustration (c): Darya Sazanovich, used with permission.
ДС: Я вообще хотела бы выразить уважение всем кто делал какие-то работы в эти дни. Потому что меня  “контузило” событиями и первые 2 недели ни о каком художественном высказывании я думать не могла. То есть получилось, что я участвовала до выборов и вот только сейчас включаюсь снова. Работы, за которые я кусала локти, что придумала не я. А вот здесь собраны все отличнейшие, даже не буду выбирать лучшую.
Еще мне очень понравилась акция “ Моя камера” где люди (родственники и друзья задержанных) разместились на квадрате размером с камеру, чтобы показать как и сколько людей в одной камере содержали на Окрестино. Может это и не было придумано художниками, но я бы без сомнения отнесла к акционизму.
DS: I would like to say how much I respect all those who were active in design work those days. Because during the first two weeks, I was completely stunned by the events, and I just couldn't express my feelings artistically. So I was involved before the elections of August 9, and then reconnected with the movement recently. There are several artworks by others which I really admire and envy; here is a collection of the best art work from the protests. [They're so good] I can't point out a specific one. One project I really liked is called “ Моя камера”, or “My cell” where the relatives and friends of detained protestors gathered within a space the size of a cell to show how many people were detained in one cell in the prison of Akrestina [in Minsk]. This concept may not have arisen from the artistic community, but it definitely qualifies as a form of artistic protest.
На площади Победы прошла акция «Моя камера», организованная узниками ЦИП на Окрестина. Экс-арестанты нарисовали на асфальте контуры камеры, рассчитанной на 6 человек, и встали туда вместе (50 человек), как и было на самом деле.
Фото: Дарья Бурякина, https://t.co/SAPdczGoiG pic.twitter.com/fhryjQgm2N
— TUT.BY (@tutby) August 22, 2020
On Victory Square, people who had been detained at Akrestina organised the “My Cell” initiative; they draw the contours of a cell initially designed for six people on the ground and 50 people stand inside it to show what they really experienced. Photo: Darya Buryakina
ДС: Верно, я училась в Вильнюсе, успела перед майданом в Киеве пожить, а сейчас базируюсь в Германии. Абсолютно уверена, что таким событиям нужна самая широкая международная огласка. Это очень поддерживает людей и пугает власть, под пристальным вниманием они не смогут жестить, как в первые дни после выборов (ну, мне хочется верить). Я сразу на этом и сконцентрировалась, дергая все личные контакты журналистов, помогая им искать/проверять информацию и героев для материалов. К сожалению, Беларусь никогда не была в фокусе международной прессы и когда все спохватились, журналистов перестали пускать в страну. Не говоря про то, что местных контактов у западных медиа тоже было мало.
Внимания хочется от всех кроме России. Имея в виду их жуткие провластные каналы. Которые, к слову, уже в Беларуси и вещают от имени наших государственных каналов. Но люди, в том числе и художники, медиа, как например медуза, очень поддерживают и спасибо им.
Беларусская диаспора тоже показала себя этим летом, каждую неделю планируя новую акцию солидарности. До армян далеко конечно, но мы и не знали сколько нас много по миру. Поэтому меня особо трогают плакаты на многотысячных митингах в Минске: “я узнал что у меня есть огромная семья” и “мы не знали друг друга до этого лета”. Сейчас многие озвучивают мысль, что беларусы как нация окончательно сформировались именно в 2020.
Много молодых и умных беларусов уезжает именно по политическим причинам, включая меня.  С примерно одинаковыми словами “любим страну, но ненавидим государство.” Все в Беларуси хорошо, но если физически не переносишь подавление свободы и дисциплину, то жить там сложно. Поэтому я предвкушаю волну беларусов, которые сразу захотят вернуться, когда уйдет Лукашенко.
DS: That's true, I studied in Vilnius and had worked in Kyiv before the Euromaidan [protest movement in Ukraine that led to a transfer of power in 2014], and now I am based in Germany. I am utterly convinced that such events need extensive international media coverage. This supports the people and unnerves the government because if it is closely watched, it won't dare to be as violent as it was in the very first days after August 9 (at least that's what I would like to believe). I immediately focused on that task, reached out to all my journalist contacts, helping them find and verify information and people for their articles. Alas, Belarus was never at the centre of media attention, so when everybody joined the protests, the authorities banned the entry of foreign journalists. Furthermore, western media never had much contact with Belarusians. We need attention from everywhere with the exception of Russia, considering their gruesome state-controlled TV channels that broadcast inside Belarus with the blessing of our own state-owned channels. However, some Russian artists and media platforms such as Meduza, have been supportive to the people of Belarus and we are thankful for that.
The Belarusian diaspora also showed its strength this summer, and planned new solidarity initiatives every week. Of course, we're not quite at the level of the Armenian diaspora, of course, but we also hadn't realised how many of us there are abroad. This is why I was extremely moved by some posters seen at large demonstrations in Minsk that read “I found out I have a huge family”, or “We didn't know each other before this summer”. Many people are now saying that 2020 was the year when Belarusians achieved a new civic national consciousness.
A lot of young and talented Belarusians leave their country for political reasons, as is my case. We use pretty much the same words: “we love our country, hate our government.” Things are fine in Belarus, but if you're unable to bear how freedom is crushed and discipline imposed, it is very difficult to live there. This is why I predict a wave of Belarusians who will immediately want to go home once Lukashenka is gone.

author: Filip Noubel


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Child rape victim doxxed by anti-abortion protesters in Brazil · Global Voices
Ana Cavalcanti

Women's rights demonstration in front of the hospital in Recife, Pernambuco | Image: Denilson Cadete. Used with permission.
In mid-August, a 10-year-old rape victim became the center of a debate over abortion rights in Brazil after her name, and the location of the hospital where she was slated to receive a legal abortion was leaked on social media.
On August 7, the young girl went to a local São Mateus hospital, in the Brazilian state of Espírito Santo, complaining of abdominal pain where tests confirmed she was pregnant. A week later, Espirito Santo's Court of Justice, authorized the termination of the pregnancy as it was attributed to rape.
Article 128 of the Brazilian Penal Code, written in 1940, defines a ‘necessary abortion’ and an ‘abortion in the case of pregnancy resulting from rape’ as exceptions, allowing pregnancy interruptions to be carried out by a doctor without punishment. A Federal Court decision also allows for an abortion when the fetus is anencephalic.
According to the girl herself, her uncle began abusing her when she was six and threatened her so she wouldn't tell anyone. The 33-year-old suspect was charged with rape by the State Civil Police and arrested on August 18.
Due to the advanced stage of the girl's pregnancy, the hospital in Espirito Santo's capital, Vitoria, claimed then it didn’t have the technical capacity to perform the abortion and the young girl was sent to Recife in the northeastern state of Pernambuco — about 1,600 kilometres away. Between August 16 and 17, an induced miscarriage was carried out at CISAM-UPE hospital which specialises in high-risk pregnancy and women’s assistance. In Brazil, only 42 clinics currently deal with these types of cases, according to the Map of Legal Abortion.
Despite efforts made by the authorities to ensure the legal abortion procedure would take place in secrecy, pro-Bolsonaro and extreme-right activist Sara Giromini (also known as Sara Winter) shared the young girl's name and the hospital's address on social media. This prompted a mob of anti-abortion protesters to gather in front of the hospital.
On August 16, a judge gave Google (YouTube), Facebook, and Twitter 24 hours to remove content that could be harmful to the 10-year-old girl in question. On August 19, Twitter went on to announce the suspension of Sara Giromini's backup account.
Despite Giromini's claims that the child's data was already being shared online, the Public Prosecutor's Office is asking that she pay 1.3 million BRL (around 230,000 US Dollars) in punitive damages.
Until the end of 2019, Giromoni held a position in the Bolsonaro government's Woman, Family and Human Rights’ Ministry, which was led by Damares Alves. Alves, who is also an evangelical pastor, followed the child's case closely and sent representatives to Espírito Santo to learn more about the investigations. The Ministry denied leaking any information about the girl. According to a report by journalist Allan de Abreu, following a Ministry trip by the Alves team to São Mateus, anti-abortion proponents began visiting the 10-year-old girl's house in order to pressure her grandmother into stopping the abortion:
Após a viagem da equipe do ministério e do deputado estadual a São Mateus, a casa onde a menina morava com a avó virou destino de uma romaria de católicos, evangélicos e políticos bolsonaristas, todos antiaborto. Pressionavam a avó para que ela convencesse a neta a ter a criança.
After the ministry's team and a state congressman's trip to São Mateus, the house where the girl lived with her grandmother became a pilgrimage to catholics, evangelicals and bolsonarist politicians, all of them anti-abortion. They pressured the grandmother to convince her granddaughter to have the child.
The president of the Brazilian National Conference of Bishops, Walmor Oliveira de Azevedo, called the interruption of the ten-year-old girl's pregnancy a “heinous crime“. On social media, he shared a message saying:
A violência sexual é terrível, mas a violência do aborto não se justifica, diante de todos os recursos existentes e colocados à disposição para garantir a vida das duas crianças. As omissões, o silêncio e as vozes que se levantam a favor de tamanha violência exigem uma profunda reflexão sobre a concepção de ser humano.
Sexual violence is terrible, but the violence of abortion does not justify it, before all the existing resources made available to ensure the lives of the two children. The omissions, the silence and the voices that raise in favor of such violence demand a deep reflection on the conception of being human.
Considering the impact of imposed pregnancy on a woman's health — both physically and psychologically —  there is a growing discussion about the importance of legalizing abortion as an essential element of women's rights.
Debora Diniz, anthropologist, researcher, and activist for the decriminalisation of abortion, wrote on her Marie Claire column that is not possible to be a feminist and to be against abortion:
…não há como ser uma feminista e defender a cadeia como o destino das mulheres que façam aborto, ou seja, ser “contra o aborto”. (…) Falo “contra” ou “favor” do aborto apenas para simplificar nossa conversa. Aborto não é tema para isso de um lado ou outro da verdade – é uma escolha íntima e privada de cada mulher. Talvez, você nunca venha a fazer um aborto, mas como uma feminista você saberá acolher mulheres com experiências diferentes das suas.
…there is no way of being a feminist and defend jail time as a destiny for women who have abortions, therefore, being “against abortion”. (…) I say “against” or “pro” abortion just to simplify our conversation. Abortion is not a theme to have one side or the other with the truth — it's an intimate and private choice to each woman. Maybe, you will never come to have one, but as a feminist you will know how to welcome women with experiences different than yours.
Pro-choice groups have also shown support for the 10-year-old child's life using the hashtag #PregnancyAt10Kills (#GravidezAos10Mata in Portuguese) on Twitter.
Mulheres do Fórum De Mulheres de Pernambuco foram até o hospital defender a vida da menina de 10 anos que engravidou por ter sido estuprada pelo tio.
Essas são as pessoas que defendem a vida! #GravidezAos10Mata pic.twitter.com/xYW6XAqLbc
— Instituto Marielle Franco (@inst_marielle) August 16, 2020
Women from the Pernambuco Women's Forum went to the hospital to stand up for the life of the ten-year-old girl that got pregnant after being raped by her uncle.
These are the people that support life! #PregnancyAt10Kills
After news broke about the ten-year-old girl's case, outlets began reporting on the staggering numbers of sexual violence towards minors in Brazil. The country registers around six abortions per day for girls aged 10 to 14-years-old who have become pregnant after being raped, according to the BBC. In some cases, hospitalization occurs after miscarriages or abortion attempts performed at home.
According to the Brazilian Public Security Yearbook 2019, for girls aged 13 or under, four were raped every hour in 2018. Health Ministry data shows that at least 32,000 young girls have had an abortion in the country since 2008.

author: Ana Cavalcanti


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Colombian and Chilean psychiatrists plead to care for mental health by avoiding COVID-19 overexposure of (fake) news · Global Voices
J. Fernanda Sánchez Jaramillo

Photo from Pexels, under Pexels license
Claudio Gonzalez, a Chilean man who lives alone in Punta Arenas, at the very south of Chile, is anguished about his future. He misses human contact and spending time with his loved ones. When in despair, he takes medicine for depression without a prescription. As COVID-19 continues to spread, mental health experts have become concerned about its impact on people´s mental health. Fake news, misinformation, and conspiracy theories, according to them, increase anxiety.
Already in May, the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals group  that “[a]lthough the COVID-19 crisis is, in the first instance, a physical health crisis, it has the seeds of a major mental health crisis as well, if action is not taken.”
In Chile, Daniela Salinas, a psychologist from the Universidad Mayor in Santiago, studied the impact of the pandemic on Chileans’ mental health. She found that 66 percent of the 600 people surveyed had anxious reactions during confinement and 40 percent showed depressive symptoms. The study also found that there has been an increase in drug, alcohol, and tobacco consumption during quarantine, with increases of up to 14 percent in the case of cigarettes.
Also, Juan Carlos Almonte, a Chilean psychiatrist, told Global Voices he observed that university students dramatically changed their sleeping patterns; now, they sleep from 5 or 6 in the morning to noon, which prevents them from interacting with their relatives and receiving family support for their anxieties.
Almonte discourages self-medicating psychotropic drugs, which is prescribed for long periods of treatment. He also believes that mental health public campaigns should focus on non-pharmacological actions.
Anxiety and depression are spurred on by COVID-19 related news, but can also be worsened by misinformation or overconsumption of news, according to experts.
Salome Castro, a Colombian woman, noticed her 80-year-old father's anxious behavior after he was exposed to the TV and radio news. Also, in her opinion, social media is used as a channel for emotional catharsis and expression during the crisis on social media; it is why she is careful with the contents she reviews. Claudio Gonzalez, the Chilean man, also prefers to follow the emergency physicians’ on Facebook, which he knows shares reliable and up-to-date information. His TV broke down on March 19, which brought him just a little bit of relief.
Edwin Herazo, a Colombian psychiatrist, told Global Voices that misinformation increases the risk of experiencing fear; he suggested approaching news critically and not emotionally.
Similarly, Fernando Valadez, another psychiatrist, explains that anxiety provokes addiction to information, and this addiction causes anxiety. “It is a bad habit that people must break by being mindful of how much time they spend online rather than keeping healthy routines such as exercise and rest,” he told GV. Adalberto Campo, another Colombian psychiatrist, added that health authorities must monitor fake news on social media.
A guide produced by the University of Chile insists that media coverage is critical to mental health. Clear and reliable content could help people to self-regulate their behavior. In addition, people could follow healthy tips shared by WHO, such as minimal exposure to newsfeeds, which makes people anxious and distressed.
COVID-19 impacted Chile and Colombia in terms of lives lost — the death toll is 11,442 and 20,348, respectively, according to official numbers — but also economically, with job insecurity and lack of access to food.
A study from a private organization Profamilia released last May showed that anger, sadness, nervousness, anxiety due to economic recession prevailed among Colombians and 56 percent are afraid of becoming depressed. Colombia's National Association of psychologists, Colegio de Psicólogos, demanded a national strategy from the government to respond to stress, fear and anxiety caused by the pandemic as the WHO suggested.
Therefore, according to psychiatrists, a healthy mindset is critical to coping with the pandemic. At the beginning of the confinement period, Rosi Gaviria, a Colombian engineer, listened to politicians but shifted to scientists, physicians, and WHO´s data to avoid conspiracy theories, fake news, and denial, she told Global Voices.
Likewise, Roberto Uribe, a Colombian lawyer, uses well-known news media and respectable physicians as main sources, ignoring opinions lacking scientific grounds, physicians who offer miracle cures and “journalists who present old information as if they were updated,” he told Global Voices.

author: J. Fernanda Sánchez Jaramillo


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COVID-19 has put medicine out of reach for many in Georgia · Global Voices
Tamuna Chkareuli

“I’d rather eat less bread and buy the necessary medication”, says Keti, who lost her job as a cleaner at a hostel. Photo: (c)  Tamuna Chkareuli / OC Media.
This article originally appeared on OC Media. It is republished here with permission, edited in accordance with GV house style.
Georgia’s borders have remained closed since March 18 due to COVID-19, with limited exceptions. Polling suggests average household income may have almost halved, and that those who were directly dependent on the tourism industry, are now facing a tough choice of either saving the money at the expense of their health or taking debts to afford the necessary medication.
Read more: Georgians approve of government's COVID-19 response but fear economic downturn, survey finds
The decline of tourism brought major changes to 59-year-old Keti’s life. The hostel where she worked as a cleaner closed down; the owner, who is a foreign national, left and does not plan to reopen this year.
Keti’s salary was 20 Lari (US$6.50) per day working six days per week. With her unemployed, Keti’s family lost half of their income.
“My husband is retired and receives a pension [220 Lari ($71) per month], and my daughter is working at the top of her physical abilities three to four days [per week] in the supermarket; therefore she doesn’t make more than 300 Lari per month.”
Keti’s daughter Sopio can’t sit or stand for extended periods after a knee surgery two years ago and needs expensive treatment. The doctor told her that her operation would be completely pointless if Sopio did not get injections in her knee.
Keti spent days searching for Arthrum — a jelly-like substance similar to that occurring naturally in the joints. She couldn’t find it and reached out to the doctor, who told her that Georgian pharmacies do not sell it and that she should look in a specific pharmacy for athletes — the sole distributor.
A single shot of Arthrum costs 800 Lari — 80 percent of the family’s income. Keti still bought it as she wanted her daughter to be able to move.
Now, two years later, Sopio’s other knee also started to hurt because of increased pressure, and she needs injections in that knee too. ‘The doctor told us to find someone, anyone abroad, who could bring it to us’.
At first, Keti tried to order the shot. But together with insurance and delivery, it would cost just as much as in Georgia.
Finally, Sopio reached out to a friend in Italy, who in turn found an immigrant woman who was buying the same shot from her doctor for €100 ($120).
They bought two shots last December — with the exchange rate, that cost Keti 310 Lari per shot. Now she would be buying it for 343 Lari, and for Keti, every bit counts.
“It was still a huge amount of money for us, but I knew at least that way I could save for the injection procedure and the taxi [to and from the hospital]. I start saving money for the next shot immediately after I buy one.”
OC Media consulted with Orthopedic surgeon Giorgi Kvaratskhelia in the First University Clinic in Tbilisi. He confirms that Arthrum, which is prescribed both preventively and post-surgically, is one of the high-cost joint supporters, all of which are imported and rather expensive.
Sopio has to use Arthrum for at least five years. But apart from that, she is prescribed Gluvilex Ultra, a joint supplement. “Half a month’s supply costs ₾53 — for two months it’s over 200 Lari. I have no idea where to get money from now, but I’d rather eat less bread and buy the necessary medication.”
Sopio frequently has other health issues connected with her knees — like an inflamed ankle ligament last winter. Keti’s husband also has problems with his pelvis joints. Overall, according to Keti’s calculations, her and her husband’s pressure regulators and Sopio’s medicines cost around 170 Lari ($55) monthly.
In the pandemic crisis, Keti has lost hope of finding a job.
“Old people like me are not wanted anywhere. I have one year till I get my pension but for me, even this one year is a long time. I could work in places like bars and hostels, but that’s not available to me now.”
Keti applied for the government’s COVID-19 benefits programme but did not receive it.
“I didn’t have a contract and received money in cash. Perhaps that’s the reason.”
Ana Teimurazishvili, a freelance guide and a member of the Georgian Tour Guides Association, also lost her income due to the closure of borders. She’s been struggling to afford the medication for her elderly mother ever since.
“I had to take my jewellery to the pawnshop to be able to buy it. The association helped me with 150 Lari ($49) when I didn’t have money for medication, then I took my jewellery to the pawnshop, then I was asking friends, so I’m in a lot of debt right now. But at least I have something to do. My colleagues have lost all that income.”
Ana’s relative rented a small food and drinks kiosk near Turtle lake in Tbilisi, where Ana now works from noon till 01:00. They have been open for less than a month and so they are unsure how much income it will bring in.
“Right now, the only thing I’m aiming for is to pay the rent and to be able to take care of my mother, without taking on more debts.”
Ana’s mother has been prescribed Eliquis, a blood thinner medication, every month. It’s vital for her since she’s at high risk of thrombosis.
Ana used to bring it from abroad because a month and a half dosage was cheaper elsewhere than a month’s dosage in Georgia. She wasn’t aware Georgia had an Eliquis programme until a friend told her. Still, with government subsidies, Ana can hardly afford it. “Two months ago the price was 72 Lari, and now it’s 78″ she says.
Nino Khunashvili, head of cardiology at the First University Clinic, described Eliquis as a powerful and effective blood thinner that is often prescribed in Georgia. “It’s an expensive medicine, and all medications of the same group are expensive,” she told OC Media.
OC Media inquired about Eliquis in several Georgian pharmacies. The medication has to be ordered via prescription from a doctor and is delivered from Turkey after three weeks since it’s not available in Georgia.
Altogether, Ana’s mother’s medications cost around 400 monthly Lari; her pension only covers half that.
Ana doubts she can return to her profession anytime soon. According to her, the majority of international tourists were Russian or Russian speakers, and even if the borders opened, she would still have safety concerns.
“There won’t be a tourism revival till next March, and until then, people like me, who are in their fifties, will be left with nothing. No one hires my generation.”
When Ana applied for emergency aid, there was no category for tourist guides.
“The government doesn't see anyone in the tourism industry beyond the hotel and the tour operator”, she says. “And there’s no point in being declared a ‘green zone’ for travelling. This crisis isn’t Georgian only. Armenia and Azerbaijan are in a worse state. People don’t travel here only for Georgia.”

author: Tamuna Chkareuli


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Detention of Chinese-Australian TV presenter Cheng Lei by China called out as ‘hostage diplomacy’ · Global Voices
Kevin Rennie

Cheng Lei in Lisbon, Portugal at Web Summit 2019 – Photo by Piaras Ó Mídheach, courtesy Web Summit Flickr account (CC BY 2.0)
The detention of journalist and television presenter Cheng Lei in China has sparked fears of another instance of so-called ‘hostage diplomacy’. She is an Australian citizen.
She has apparently been held in residential detention for more than two weeks according to the Australian government. Australian diplomats were able to make video link contact with her on 27 August. As Cheng has not been formally arrested but is under “residential surveillance at a designated location”, the Australian authorities currently take a soft diplomacy approach by providing assistance and support to Cheng and her family.
Cheng is the anchor for a business program on State television’s China Global Television Network (CGTN), and is regarded as someone who did not cross political boundaries in her reporting. No reasons have been given for her arrest. She had written on her Facebook page in March about COVID-19 cover-ups in Wuhan. This may not be the reason for her arrest given the timeframe.
Human Right Watch's executive director Kenneth Roth commented on Twitter:
The Chinese government won't even explain why it detained this Australian television presenter, leaving us to conclude that Cheng Lei's detention is simply the latest example of Beijing's “hostage diplomacy.” https://t.co/n52SLcgec7 pic.twitter.com/c7S0rQKHCR
— Kenneth Roth (@KenRoth) September 2, 2020
Australian journalist Peter Greste, who spent 440 days in jail in Egypt in relation to his work with Al Jazeera, believes that she may be a political pawn:
This is deeply troubling. If @ChengLeiCGTN has committed a crime, #China should charge her and deal with her swiftly and transparently. If not, they should let her go. Anything less looks like she’s being used as a political or diplomatic hostage. @4JournoFreedom #auspol https://t.co/TC0Ji07SzW
— Peter Greste (@PeterGreste) September 1, 2020
Media colleagues from around the world have taken to social media and other online platforms to highlight Cheng's plight. Journalist and academic Tony Walker has called for urgent action at The Conversation:
When it seemed relations between Australia and China could not get much worse, the detention of an Australian citizen working for Chinese state television risks a further deterioration.
…Canberra should be doing all it can to ensure she is released from “residential surveillance” as soon as possible.
This follows the lack of success in using of quiet diplomacy to gain the release of Yang Hengjun in China or Kylie Moore-Gilbert in Iran.
This latest development happens at a time of deteriorating relations between the Australian and Chinese governments, which has seen growing restrictions on imports by China. This follows Australia’s call for an independent inquiry into the origins of coronavirus.
Apparently, Cheng’s profile has been removed fro the CGTN website. Veteran BBC journalist tweeted a widespread concern about the actions of the Chinese state:
The Australian-Chinese news presenter Cheng Lei (@ChengLeiCGTN) has vanished from China Global TV’s screens, & her profile has been wiped from CGTN’s website. The Australian govt says she’s been arrested. Why? It’s disturbing that people can just disappear like this in China.
— John Simpson (@JohnSimpsonNews) September 1, 2020
Indian journalist Abhijit Majumber aired similar concerns:
Cheng Lei, Australian TV host, detained in China.
Must admit I don’t understand China’s strategy of taking on everybody on multiple fronts. But maybe it is part of a well-thought-out plan. https://t.co/jsauz1uJfQ
— Abhijit Majumder (@abhijitmajumder) September 1, 2020
Artist Marionne Van Katwijk has a suggestion of her own as to the Chinese government's strategy:
Former ambassador to China says situation surrounding detained journalist Cheng Lei is ‘extremely sensitive’
Yeah, China is sending that message again…domination of the world the end game? #auspol https://t.co/FW7HdVJa75
— ?marionne van katwijk (@venture2ART) September 1, 2020
Global Voices also talked to Chinese-Australian activist Badiucao and asked his opinion about the Cheng Lei’s detention:
The arrest of Cheng Lei comes as a surprise, but the message is very clear: if we, the CCP, do not hesitate to arrest journalists who work for our own propaganda news agency, you better be careful when you cover China. There is also another chilling message: regardless of your current citizenship, if you were born in China, you are still property of China.
This is why I am afraid Cheng Lei might not be the last case like that, we already witnessed it with Yang Hengjun. Clearly this is a sign of desperation on the side of Xi Jinping who wants to reign in the media, having in mind the role it played in the fall of the Soviet Union in the late 1980s.
What is interesting is that in this climate of high tension in Sino-Australian relations, the Australian government is reaching a “can’t do this anymore” turning point that is unprecedented. The Australian government is offering special visas to Hong Kong students, it is also commissioning a research on academic freedom in Australia in regard to Chinese pressure. There are also discussions about following the US in the ban of Tik Tok and WeChat social media platforms.
But as of now, the message for us activists born in China and living abroad remains the same: we are potential hostages and each of us is facing the same danger as met by Cheng Lei, even if she was actually working to promote China’s official line.

author: Kevin Rennie


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Hong Kong artists burn protest gear, Winnie the Pooh, and ballot boxes on Ghost Day · Global Voices
The Stand News

Paper joss with Hong Kong Chief Executive Carrie Lam's face on it. Image by the Stand News, used with permission.
The text below is a translation of a story published in Chinese on the Stand News on September 1, 2020. It is published by Global Voices via a content partnership.
During this year's Hungry Ghost Festival on September 1 and 2, a group of Hong Kong artists made use of the occasion to vent their political frustrations.
In Chinese folklore, the entire month of July in the Chinese lunar calendar is Ghost Month, while Ghost Day is on either the fourteenth or fifteenth day of that month.
The legend says that, during Ghost Month, the gates separating the evil realms are open and hungry ghosts wander the living world. Some take the opportunity to pay visits to their loved ones — or take revenge on their enemies. Ghost Day is the day the living are able to communicate with the dead.
In many Chinese cultures, people burn incense, joss paper, papercrafts in the form of clothes, gold and even mobile phones for the visiting spirits during Ghost Month. This traditional ritual is considered to be a demonstration of respect to one's ancestors — and a cathartical release of repressed feelings towards the dead.
This year the lunar year July 14 ghost day is on September 1 and a group of Hong Kong artists gathered at Nullah Road Garden in Prince Edward to burn and offer their handmade paper artworks to the wandering spirits. The performance, spearheaded by local art collective C&G Artparment since 2016, has political underpinnings; it is called “Burning the audit book” (燒數薄), which can also mean “fuck your mother” in colloquial Cantonese.
Kacey Wong made two sets of protective gear for his future spirit. Image by the Stand News, used with permission.
Artist Kacey Wong made two sets of protest gear containing a yellow helmet and a gas mask, among other equipment used by the “Fire Wizards” — the protesters who throw firebombs — and the “Smoke Extinguishing Teams” — those who specialize in deactivating tear gas canisters. Both groups have been on the front lines of the year-long anti-extradition protests in Hong Kong.
Wong explained the idea behind his papercrafts:
滅煙小隊和火魔法師都是我非常敬佩的抗爭角色，他們冒住自己生命危險為香港民主自由奮鬥… 現實世界冇勇氣掟磚或汽油彈，但我希望死咗後做到，所以燒定比自己。
I admire the Fire Wizards and Smoke Extinguishing Teams very much. They have risked their lives to fight for democracy and freedom in Hong Kong (…). In real life, I don’t have the courage to throw bricks or firebombs, but I hope I could do so after I am dead. That’s why I am now burning for my own spirit in the future.
Like Kacey Wong, artist Man Chan crafted a set of gammon bombs. He explained:
現實世界中政權與人民武力不對等，便自製了手榴彈，希望可在陰間派上用場。
In real life, the martial force between the state and the people are too unequal, so I hope the gammon bombs can be used for self-protection in the lower realms.
Artist Man Chan's gammon bombs. Image by the Stand News, used with permission.
Artist Peggy Chan made three ballot boxes in red, white and blue, the colours of the French Revolution symbolizing liberty, equality and fraternity. Chan said that the ballot boxes expressed people’s aspirations for universal suffrage.
In addition, the three ballot boxes are written numbers representing three incidents of great significance to Hongkongers: 8964, 721 and 831.
Artist Peggy Chan's ballot box. Image from the Stand News.
The number 8964 represents June 4, 1989, when one million Hongkongers protested in response to the Chinese government's deadly crackdown of peaceful democracy demonstrations in Beijing.
July 21, 2019, is the date of the Yuen Long subway attack, when a pro-Beijing mob attacked subway passengers with the silent consent of the police.
And 831 represents the Prince Edward subway attack on August 31, 2019, when riot police officers cracked down on subway passengers while attempting to arrest protestors on their way home
The artist said that the memories of those incidents cannot be erased.
Last week, the Hong Kong police arrested 12 people in relation to the Yuen Long subway incident on suspicion of “rioting.” Among those detained was lawmaker Lam Cheuk-ting, who on that day was injured by the pro-Beijing mob. Activists accuse the police of rewriting history and turning victims into executioners.
Artist Li Man-ho made a big Winnie the Pooh wielding a mace. The cartoon figure has been widely used by netizens to mock Chinese President Xi Jinping.
Artist Li Man-ho's Winnie the Pooh. Image from the Stand News.
Other papercrafts with strong political symbolism in Hong Kong were seen, such as helmets, masks and deer – “calling a deer a horse” is a Chinese idiom that means turning black into white. Deer, hence representing the truth. Many of them were burned with joss paper printed with Hong Kong's Chief Executive Carrie Lam's face.
C&G Artparment's Curator Clara said the satirical performance is a stage for people to voice their discontents and release frustrations:
人間搵唔到人回應訴求，唯有試下其他渠道，例如陰間。
In the real world, no one answers our demands, so we have to seek other channels, such as communicating with the ghost realms.

author: The Stand News


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‘Khon Kaen has had enough’: Pro-democracy activists protest in northeast Thailand · Global Voices
The Isaan Record

Protesters held up signs and tablets showing their support for the movement’s three main demands: 1. Dissolving of parliament 2. End to the harassment of dissidents 3) Drafting of a new, democratic constitution. Photo by Adithep Chanthep, used with permission. Caption from The Isaan Record.
This edited article is from The Isaan Record, an independent news site in Thailand, and is republished on Global Voices as part of a content-sharing agreement. Global news reports about the youth-led protests in Thailand focus on what's happening in the capital Bangkok. This report from The Isaan Record documents a major rally in Khon Kaen City located northeast of Thailand.
The Democracy Monument in Khon Kaen City (northeast Thailand), a smaller-sized replica of the one in Bangkok, has only occasionally served as a venue of protest in recent years. But on August 20, the symbolic landmark drew a cheering crowd of about 1,500 people in support of the youth-led movement for democracy and social change.
Activists took turns giving speeches on stage calling on the government to dissolve parliament, paving the way for elections, and the drafting of a new constitution. Isaan women’s rights and LGBTQ+ activists took the stage campaigning for gender equality and the right to safe abortions.
The activists also held a mock ritual using the soft drink Red Bull as holy water to drive out Prime Minister General Prayuth who led the 2014 military coup ousting an elected government and was subsequently made prime minister after elections in March 2019.
Organized by a university student group formed after the controversial dissolution of the Future Forward Party in February, the protest was one of the largest in Isaan in recent weeks. The group “Khon Kaen’s Had Enough” announced it would make the monument its regular venue for more protests to keep up the pressure on the government.
Many of the protesters were high school students who wore white ribbons and raised the three-finger salute as a symbol of resistance. Photo by Adithep Chanthep, used with permission. Caption from The Isaan Record
Protesters, most of them wearing masks, turned on their mobile phone’s flashlights as musicians performed on stage and speakers delivered speeches for political and social change. Photo by Adithep Chanthep, used with permission. Caption from The Isaan Record
Organizers held a mock ritual to curse and drive out Prime Minister Prayuth. The ritual included a photo of Prayuth and bottles of the soft drink Red Bull used instead of holy water. The venue of the Democracy Monument is located next to the city shrine, the spiritual center of Khon Kaen. Photo by Adithep Chanthep, used with permission. Caption from The Isaan Record

author: The Isaan Record


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Netizens across former Yugoslavia celebrate 75 years of women’s suffrage · Global Voices
Kristina Hadzi-Vasileva

A married couple of Yugoslav Partisans in a photo taken in Slovenia, 1944. Source: znaci.net. Public Domain.
This past August 11 marked 75 years since now-dissolved Yugoslavia's granted women the right to vote. Human rights activists and feminists from the successor states remembered the date by sharing photos from that period on social media — and used the opportunity to advocate for equal rights.
Universal suffrage was part of the political program of Yugoslavia's communist-led resistance to occupation by Nazi Germany and its allies. It became law in 1945 following Nazi defeat, and women voted for the first time in the November parliamentary election that solidified the power of the Communist Party of Yugoslavia.
Compared to other countries in Central and Eastern Europe, Yugoslavia introduced universal suffrage a bit late — Russia did in 1917, Poland in 1918, and Czechoslovakia in 1920. Communist Bulgaria and Albania also granted women the right to vote after World War II, and anti-communist Greece only did so in 1952.
In 2020, Twitter users celebrated the anniversary by sharing photos — some of them contrasting sharply with the genocidal nationalism that plagued the region both during WWII and the Yugoslav Wars of the 1990s.
Twitter user @arthurgordonpy3 shared a photo of an ethnic Albanian female activist giving a public speech on International Women's Day in 1945. Along with the photo, they said in Macedonian:
На денешен ден, 11 август 1945, жените се избориле за право на глас во Југославија!
Фото: Историски музеј на Југославија, Менсура Шаќири држи говор на митингот на Антифашистичкиот фронт на жените (АФЖ) по повод 8-март 1945. pic.twitter.com/RqQdQJs42b
— Duchess? (@arthurgordonpy3) August 11, 2020
On this day, 11 August 1945, the women won the right to vote in Yugoslavia!
Photo: Historical museum of Yugoslavia, Mensura Shaqiri holding a speech at a meeting of Women's Antifascist Front on March 8, 1945.
Some users posted photos of the women fighters who were members of the anti-fascist National Liberation Army and Yugoslav Partisan Units. The celebratory comments stressed how women earned the right to vote by actively participating in the armed struggle and the post-war reconstruction — in contrast to often-used language that implies women were “given” that right.
Na današnji dan, 11. avgusta 1945. godine, žene u Jugoslaviji izborile su se za pravo glasa. pic.twitter.com/MJXlSUYacW
— zarko bogosavljevic (@zarkobns) August 11, 2020
On this day August 11, 1945 women in Yugoslavia fought and won the right to vote! Via @voxfeminae
Na današnji dan 1945. godine žene u Hrvatskoj, u okviru Jugoslavije, izborile su pravo glasa!
Via @voxfeminae pic.twitter.com/NL8SduJHjS
— Divljakuša (@mogualnecu) August 11, 2020
On this day in 1945 women in Croatia, which was then part of Yugoslavia, won the right to vote! Via @voxfeminae
Others reminded the public of a rather obscure piece of historical data: The one occasion when women from Yugoslavia temporarily had the right to vote, 28 years before universal suffrage became law. That took place in some parts of Vojvodina, a province of Serbia that was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire until 1918.
Током новембра 1918. године, у 200 изборних јединица на територији Бачке, Баната и Барање, посланици су изабрани за предстојећу Велику народну скупштину, на којој би се та подручја неопозиво придружила Краљевини Србији, а жене су имале право гласа први пут у европској историји. https://t.co/NqoJWYMvfx
— Севастократор (@Sevastokrator3) August 11, 2020
During November 1918 in 200 polling stations on the territories of Bačka, Banat and Baranja, elections of deputies for the future Grant Popular Assembly took place, which declared joining of those territories to the Kingdom of Serbia, with women having the right to vote for the first time in [sic] European history.
Macedonian graphic artist Zoran Cardula celebrated the anniversary by drawing attention to his artwork “The Heroines of Yugoslavia,” a series of pop art portraits of the 91 women who received the Order of National Hero, the highest military decoration in the former Yugoslavia. Cardula originally made those for International Women's Day in 2018.
In the introduction of the collection of portraits, he wrote that his goal with the series was to reinvigorate interest in the stories of those women, fighters, “who raised their voices against the occupier, against fascism, and many of them paid their freedom with their own lives. After the breakup of Yugoslavia, they remained forgotten, even with a tendency to completely minimize their struggle.”
The portraits contain short biographies of the women fighters, including their nom de guerre and the year they received the medal.
“Heroines of Yugoslavia” by Zoran Cardula, a collection of portraits of officially esteemed female anti-fascist fighters from World War II, presented alongside their nom de guerre. Used with permission.
Cardula said on a tweet commemorating the 75th anniversary of universal suffrage:
На денешен ден 11 август 1945 година жените во Југославија се изборија за право на глас. Во Втората светска војна загинаа 600.000 жени, се бореа 110.000 жени а загинаа 25.000, 40.000 ранети,3.000 неспособни за работа, 2.000 официри, Партизанска спом. 3.344, а Народни хрои 91.
On this day August 11, 1945 women of Yugoslavia won their right to vote. During the World War II, 600,000 women were killed overall, 110,000 women fought in the anti-fascist resistance, out of which 25,000 female fighters were killed, 40,000 were wounded, 3,000 were deemed incapable for work (had permanent disability). There were 2,000 females army officers, 3,344 received the status of veterans of 1941, and  91 were declared national heroes.
Right-wing social media users reacted negatively, denouncing the lack of full democracy under communist rule. Many argued that the right to vote is pointless in a single-party political system. This, in turn, triggered a debate on what it means to be a democracy:
Покушавам, брате, цело јутро, и не вреди. Лепо кажем да кад постоји једна партија нема никаквог смисла тај глас, да ни на шта не утиче. Неки кажу да је тад било много више демократије. ??
— Седи жаба сама? (@Milan54541) August 11, 2020
Tweet 1: Commie idiocy goes so far as to claim that women had the right to vote in 1945.
Please tell me what kind of arguments should one use with such people?
Tweet 2: Bro, I'm attempting to argue the whole morning, but it's no use. I tell them nicely that in a single-party political system, voting is pointless, has no influence on anything. Some of them say that there was more democracy then.
Proponents of equal rights responded by defending the significance of the development in light of its historical context:
Na današnji dan 1945. žene su po prvi put u našoj zemlji dobile pravo glasa. S tim u vezi, normalno da su se danas povampirili razni “antikomunisti” sa tezom kako to i nije toliko značajno budući da je tada stvoren jednopartijski sistem gde slobodni izbori nisu ni postojali.
— Viktor Stamenković (@Simpo_fotelja) August 11, 2020
On this day in 1945 women in our country earned the right to vote for the first time. Regarding that issue, as usual, various “anticommunists” crawled from under their rocks, with the thesis that this was not so important because that year a one-party system was created which didn't allow free elections.
Ti si neznalica i ignorant. Zene su izborile pravo glasa i izjednačile se po tom pravu sa muskarcima. To je poenta. Osvojile su pravo da glasaju u sistemu ma kakav on bio. To je sustina, kapish? I to pravo su zene izborile u, pazi sad da se ne onesvestis, komunizmu ?.
— Damir Tatalovic (@damirtatalovic) August 11, 2020
You are an unknowing and ignorant person. Women won the right to vote at equal footing with men. That is the point. They won the right to vote regardless of the nature of the political system. That is the essence, understand? And women managed to win that right–be careful not to faint–under communism.
Žensko pravo glasa u Jugi nije se odnosilo samo na izbore nego i na opštu ulogu žene u društvu, institucijama i političkim strukturama tadašnje države.
— igbala skalonja (@iggyscully) August 11, 2020
Women's right to vote in Yugoslavia didn't only refer to elections but also on their general role in society, the state institutions and the political structures of that state.
ni ja. ako nista, to sto su se zene jugoslavije izborile za pravo glasa (i to relativno rano, ranije od mnogih) je na simbolickoj razini vazno. ali ne mogu oni animozitet prema sfrj staviti po strani ni za takve stvari.
— Em. (@matr0shka_) August 11, 2020
I don't understand the need of some people to mansplain this. Even considering the lack of democracy, the fact that women of Yugoslavia won the right to vote (which happened relatively early, compared to many other countries) is important in a symbolic way. However some people cannot restrain their animosity towards the SFRY even when discussing issues of this kind.
The conversation also expanded to comparisons with Western European countries:
Zanimljivost:
Žene u Švajcarskoj dobile pravo glasa 1971. godine.
Za verovali ili ne.
— Dusan Pavlovic (@dushanbay) August 11, 2020
Fun fact: Women in Switzerland got the right to vote in 1971.
This is for [Ripley's] Believe it or Not.

author: Kristina Hadzi-Vasileva


text:
The path to the square: The role of digital technologies in Belarus’ protests · Global Voices
Gregory Asmolov

A mass demonstration against President Alyaksandr Lukashenka in central Minsk, Belarus, August 16. Photo: Homoatrox / Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA 3.0. Some rights reserved.
This article originally appeared at oDR, openDemocracy's section on Russia and the post-Soviet space. It is republished here with permission, and has been edited for style and brevity.
Over the past decade, experience has shown how large protests at a single public square – like those in Cairo’s Tahrir square or Kyiv’s Maidan – can lead to real political change. At the same time, when state authorities are responsible for allocating spaces to protest – as was the case with Bolotnaya Square and Sakharov Square in Moscow in 2011 – even mass protests can end in nothing.
During the first two nights after the August 9 election results, the Belarusian authorities brutally suppressed protesters’ attempts to gather in the central squares of Minsk. This led to the protests dissipating and acquiring a hyperlocal character, whereby protests were not concentrated at a single point, but flared up simultaneously in different places, from street to street, from neighbourhood to neighbourhood.
This “scattered” protest had important advantages. Firstly, citizens themselves determined the protest’s course and the conditions they set, rather than the state bodies which authorised the demonstrations. Secondly, the “scattered” protest became a transitional stage ahead of protests on the square: a week later, on August 16, the protesters managed to reach Government House in the capital of Minsk peacefully and without resistance, and to gather at a nearby important war monument. This peaceful protest was now much more significant in terms of numbers than the pro-government rally in support of Alyaksandr Lukashenka.
Taking to the streets en masse, individual citizens have been integral to the success of Belarus’ protest, but so have enterprise and factory collectives – that is, group actors. How did the protest reach such a wide audience so quickly? It can hardly be said that internet channels have played a central mobilising role here, especially given the partially successful attempts of the Belarusian authorities to block the internet.
Despite the incredible growth in popularity of a number of Telegram channels (for example, the number of subscribers to the popular Nexta channel increased by 1.5 million in a matter of days), these information streams remained inaccessible to many inside Belarus, with a significant part of this growth in the channels’ popularity associated with the global audience. At the same time, it is important to note the high level of IT literacy in Belarus, where industries related to information technology have been actively developing in recent years. This level of literacy allowed significant numbers of people both to partially bypass the blocking of the internet and produce protest-related content.
Read more: Belarus shuts down internet as thousands protest election results
Instead, the key question to understanding the role of the internet in the Belarusian protests is: how has the cost of using violence exceeded its effectiveness for the state? In the Belarusian scenario, the internet did not become a key mechanism for mobilising and coordinating protests, but it did create conditions in which the rapid and mass involvement of citizens became possible. This can be attributed to two important characteristics of the protests: unprecedented state violence and the dispersed nature of the protests both in the capital and throughout the country.
When hyperlocal protests take place in the context of the modern information environment, even the most brutal violence does not achieve its goal of suppressing protests, but only contributes to their growth.
For more than a decade, researchers have debated the internet’s importance for the success of political protests. Internet technologies have played a large role both in protests that brought about serious political change (for example, the Arab Spring or Euromaidan) and those that did not lead to a change in power: during the elections in Iran in 2009, in Russia in 2011-2012, or during the Gezi Park protests in Turkey in 2013. On the one hand, researchers have pointed to a wide range of political and technological innovations that increase transparency of covering protests, as well as facilitating the mobilisation and coordination of actions.
In this vein, Lance Bennett and Alexandra Segerberg have discussed the emergence of a new type of collective action, dubbed “connective action”, that allows joint actions to be organised without the need for any formal organisation or party. Institutions are replaced by digital platforms in this model, making it easier and faster to organise political actions (for example, a Facebook event created by journalist Ilya Klishin played a key role in organising the first rally on Bolotnaya Square in Russia in 2011).
A live map of protests in Minsk, based on Google Maps.
On the other hand, these “connective actions” have vulnerabilities. For instance, sociologist Zeynep Tufekci has drawn attention to the cost of simplifying protest mobilisation. While technology makes it possible to quickly bring people onto the streets en masse without leaders or parties, these protests are much more difficult to translate into significant political change. This new type of protest can fade away without real results and as quickly as it emerges. In addition, technology creates new opportunities for surveillance and disinformation, as well as promoting insignificant forms of political participation like so-called “clicktivism” that carries few risks for participants and might be interpreted as a kind of simulation of real political activity.
Political crises are often accompanied by new waves of innovation that seek to change the balance of power between governments and protesters. For instance, in the 2019 protests during elections to the Moscow City Duma, one could observe several types of innovations in the coverage and coordination of protests as well as in technologies of mutual aid and surveillance. Most often, the authorities respond to the innovations of opposition activists with traditional force and repressive measures (ranging from arrests to shutting down the internet). But in some cases states have also employed innovative tactics, for example, using anonymous Telegram channels for provocation and disinformation. Recent events in Belarus can also be analysed in terms of the dynamics of political innovation. Many practices observed a year ago in Moscow are present in one form or another now in Belarus.
Firstly, citizens have learned to bypass internet blocks through a variety of tools: Belarusian users have made use of VPN and anonymisers like Psiphon. Protesters were also encouraged to use Mesh networks (the Bridgefy app) to communicate directly with each other if the internet was down. Telegram channels and telegram chats (which, with the support of the company, worked even in conditions of limited internet access) were actively used to coordinate actions and transmit information about the location of riot police, although the effectiveness of this communication in conditions of information overload and reliability remains in question.
At the same time, more complex crowdsourcing solutions for data collection were hardly used at all (with the exception of simple maps based on Google Maps). A little later, though, a crowdsourced “Map of Strikes” appeared.
Another issue has been that of mutual aid. Telegram channels showed information about access codes for buildings where protesters could hide (although this could also potentially be accessed by law enforcement agencies). The channels also reported where protesters could find water and medicine. Particular attention was paid to the coordination of assistance for those released from arrest.
Read more: ‘Concerned IT specialists’ launch database of detained Belarusian protesters
The Telegram channel Okrestina Lists was used to search for detainees and publish lists of all people detained in the now notorious Akrestina temporary detention centre. Finally, special channels were devoted to the “de-anonymisation” of state officials involved in violence. It is also worth noting the global crowdfunding initiatives through which users outside Belarus have been able to help victims of state violence (for example, an initiative launched by activist Alexey Leonchik raised more than US$2 million).
However, protesters’ choice of technologies is not the most important thing at stake. A more significant question is which technologies are most fundamentally important for transforming a political crisis into an opportunity for change – in this case to prevent the continuation of the Lukashenka regime. This question is essential because the current Belarusian protests are taking place in the absence of formal opposition leaders (most of whom are in jail, while Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya, who is considered by protesters to be the winner of the elections, was forced to leave Belarus) or institutions. By their very nature, these protests can be considered fragile and vulnerable ”connective actions” – the kind that make it so difficult to transfer the power of protest into the domain of real political change.
Recent events in Belarus show the key role of the internet in shaping motivations for participation in protests. The initial motivation was election fraud. In the hours after the first results were announced, widespread evidence of the scale of falsification began to appear online. There were photos of final protocols showing a convincing victory for Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya. The sheer scale of the falsification, above all, delegitimised the elections. But this was only the initial motive for the protests.
Soon after people started taking to the streets, there were reports of violent crackdowns on peaceful protests. Within hours, social media were flooded with evidence of violence. These kind of tragic snapshots of violence often quickly become symbols of a protest. For instance, during the 2009 protests in Tehran a video of the brutal murder of an Iranian woman, Neda Agha-Soltan, was seen all around the world. In the case of Belarus, the critical mass of state violence was unprecedented. Social media brought new evidence of brutality from police and security forces literally every minute, including the beating of bystanders with batons, people being assaulted from behind, and shooting at cars and residential buildings.
Belarusian Telegram channels, especially Nexta and Belarus of the Brain, became a stream of “reports from the battlefield”. This information flow was possible thanks in part to the failed attempt by the Belarusian authorities to completely block internet access. Another reason was the fact that violence was happening not only on the approaches to public squares, but everywhere, in courtyards and on the street. Police violence was witnessed by ordinary people filming from the windows of their homes and drivers who filmed what was happening in the opposite lane. This evidence was joined by footage of the ill-treatment of detainees in isolation, also filmed from the windows of neighbouring apartment blocks.
Read more: How one Telegram channel became central to Belarus’ protests
All this played out in an “a reverse Panopticon” effect: in an environment full of mobile phones, dashcams and CCTV, not only can the state observe its citizens, but citizens can also effectively monitor the state. The response to state violence is this “horizontal surveillance”. The critical mass of evidence of violence becomes the new key trigger for protests and general public mobilisation. Crimes against humanity replace election fraud as the main focus. Later, this evidence can potentially be used to prosecute the perpetrators. A number of organisations have already announced a joint open-sourcing initiative, whose goal is to systematically collect, verify and analyse all data on human rights violations committed during the suppression of the Belarusian protests.
American political scientist Elmer Eric Schattschneider argues that one of the main factors in the success of a protest is the “scope of contagion” of a political conflict.
Sometimes attempts by the state to limit the scope of citizen engagement through repressive measures have the opposite effect. For example, a number of studies show that internet shutdowns often serve to escalate protests, as the information vacuum forces people to take to the streets. There is still the question of what awaits those who leave their own homes. The brutal suppression of protest by the state creates a dilemma for protesters. On the one hand, the risk of participation in protests increases. Moreover, apparent success in suppressing protests can lead to an increase in the number of so-called “free riders” – people who hope that political goals will be achieved without their participation. On the other hand, the feeling that the number of participants is growing in response to violence and that the protest is gaining momentum becomes crucial if willingness to participate is to outweigh the “logic of risk”.
Social media turned out to be fundamentally important not for coordinating protests, but for creating a sense of its invincible growth. This applies both to the geographic spread of the protest and the diversity of participants – their location, gender, age and social status. Researchers speak of this as an issue of the “visibility” of protest: it is not enough to go out into the streets, but important to show this in such a way that it subjectively evokes for those remaining at home a feeling of mass participation. An example of a principled “technology of visibility” is the use of drones to photograph the size of a crowd from the air.
The authorities, meanwhile, strive not only to disperse people from the streets, but also to minimise the potential “visibility” of the protest. The problem of visibility becomes especially acute in a situation of hyperlocal protests. Unlike “one square” protests (as in Cairo or Kyiv), these cannot be shown in a single “drone’s eye view”. But the case of Belarus illustrates a solution to the “visibility problem”: the news feed formed by Telegram channels and local Telegram chat groups showed the protests taking place simultaneously in hundreds of locations.
Hyperlocality and multiple points of decentralised protest can often become an advantage for protesters – it is more difficult for the state to suppress such actions. However, in the past it was also difficult for such protests to create the effect of mass participation. As shown in Belarus, information technologies can compensate for this lack of the visibility of a “crowd on the square” by creating a mass effect through constant information flows and pointing to new sites of protest.
In the critical hours when riot police, using violence, were increasing the risk of participating in the protests and thus seeking to stop them, the opposite happened – the documented violence created a new motivation for mobilisation. The effect of the mass scale and geographic distribution of protests, as seen in the feeds of Telegram channels, exceeded the subjective threshold of participation – that is, the threshold beyond which the subjective feeling of danger of participation in actions is overshadowed by the willingness to go out because everyone was going out. The snowball mobilisation effect had begun. In the emerging information environment, people felt that, wherever they took to the streets, they would not be alone.
At the same time, the role traditionally attributed to social networks in the tactical coordination of protests may have played a secondary role, particularly during the first days of the protests. Some forms of online coordination were effective – for example, the emergence of closed women’s chats, created to organise chains of solidarity. At the same time, many other chats often could not cope with the chaos of conflicting mobilisation messages and instructions, which made it difficult to track the development of protests, including for the authorities.
Coordination is important when relatively small groups are protesting and there is no critical mass of participants. In this situation, it is possible to resist the more powerful pro-government resources precisely because of the increased efficiency of the action. However, when the ubiquitous chain reaction of involvement begins, numbers of protesters become more important than coordination. Going out onto the streets and squares, people self-organise without the help of information technology, and internet blocks only contribute to this scenario.
The mobilisation effect was also facilitated by the viral spread of stories showing the moments of protesters’ victories over security forces, footage of people beating away attempts to detain them or stories of law enforcement officers taking off their IDs, uniforms or epaulettes as a sign of non-violence.
Of course, the success of the Belarusian protests cannot be attributed to information technology alone. This is primarily the result of political and social factors that arose during the totalitarian rule of Lukashenka, and especially during his recent election campaign. Moreover, we still do not fully know what the political outcome of the current events will be. However, what is happening in Belarus is an important example of how information technology can help turn a political crisis into an opportunity for political change, despite the fragile nature of “connective action”.
Here let me recall the paradox described by the Strugatsky brothers and brilliantly shown by Andrei Tarkovsky in the film Stalker. Entering “The Zone”, the main characters find themselves far from “The Room”. However, the direct path to it is not the shortest. It is the same with protests: having entered the square immediately, the crowd may find itself in the trap described by Zeynep Tufekci. It may fail to gain critical mass, lose energy and disintegrate before it can achieve its political goals. The “path to the square” through which Belarusians have passed has helped them to avoid this trap – if at a tragic cost.
In the new information environment, the violence used against participants in the course of hyperlocal dispersed protests is becoming less effective at suppressing them. Quite the opposite: violence is becoming a new motive for people to take to the streets. The intimidation effect is neutralised by the general mobilisation effect and contributes to a sharp increase in the scope of involvement. It is at this point that a chain reaction begins, which is increasingly difficult to stop: repression becomes ineffective and even counter-effective; a crowd of protesters turns from an object of persecution into a subject of the political process. Over time, the crowd becomes ready to enter the central square, uniting hundreds of hyperlocal protests into a single column. It was this path to the square, laid in the first five days after Belarus’ presidential elections, that turned the crowd into a political force capable of escaping the trap of horizontal mobilisation and bringing about real change.
Will Belarusians be able not only to complete the impossible task of removing Lukashenka, but also prove the senselessness of violence as an instrument for achieving political goals? Perhaps, just like the “end of history” thesis, it is too early to announce the “end of political violence”. But events in Belarus may push other authoritarian regimes to rely less and less on traditional force to suppress internal discontent, instead investing more and more resources in innovative forms of control designed to create new, invisible barriers to the “path to the square”.

author: Gregory Asmolov


text:
In Sri Lanka, affected families resist climate of fear on International Day of the Victims of Enforced Disappearances · Global Voices
Rezwan

A Sri Lankan woman pays tribute to a relative at the Raddoluwa Missing Persons Memorial in Seeduwa, Western Province, Sri Lanka. Photo from 2013 by Flickr user Vikalpa. CC BY 2.0.
Family members of forcibly disappeared people in Sri Lanka gathered in several cities on August 30 to commemorate the International Day of the Victims of Enforced Disappearances while the government held no official events.
Thousands of people, primarily ethnic Tamils, are believed to have been forcibly disappeared by state actors during the final years of the 1983-2009 civil war that pitted the government against the separatist group Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), at a time when Mahinda Rajapaksa was president (2005-2015) and his brother Gotabaya Rajapaksa was the defence secretary.
After a brief opposition rule between 2015-2019, the Rajapaksa brothers were voted back to power as Prime Minister and President, respectively. In the parliamentary elections in 2020, their party Sri Lanka People's Freedom Alliance also obtained a majority of seats.
Gotabaya Rajapaksa has long denied the war crimes allegations made against him, while Mahinda Rajapaksa also denied allegations that he attempted to remain in power by force after he lost the 2015 elections.
Human Rights activist Ruki Fernando reported on the protests and other remembrance activities on August 30 for citizen media outlet Groundviews:
In Digana (Central province), families held a fair at a Catholic church. In Jaffna (Northern province), families from across the North joined a protest march. In Batticaloa (Eastern province), families from the East staged a protest march across the town. The day before, families of the disappeared in Vavuniya (Northern province) had religious observances and in Colombo (Western province). […]
Paangshu, a film highlighting the struggle of a mother looking for her missing son, has been screened in cinemas across Sri Lanka from August. In many cinemas, there were discussions after the screenings.
Buvini Liyanagamage, a web designer from Colombo, tweeted:
#Protests held in #Jaffna yesterday marking the #International Day of the Victims of Enforced Disappearances.#SriLanka #Lka #tamil #COVID19 #ltte #CivilWar pic.twitter.com/YirZ8m9jf2
— Buvini Liyanagamage (@BuviniL) August 31, 2020
Groundviews tweeted:
A moving photo-story capturing the unspoken truth behind enforced disappearances. That the pain of losing loved ones is a lived reality for both Sinhalese and Tamils, for mothers & fathers in the South of #srilanka as much as the North, who still wait in hope. @SRajasegar #lka https://t.co/6ENRINDgft
— Groundviews (@groundviews) August 31, 2020
Some of the events faced restrictions by law enforcement agencies. Ruki Fernando reports:
Many of the events faced restrictions and intimidation. Intelligence agents questioned the priest who hosted the event in Digana. Some families in Jaffna were asked not to join the protest and some bus operators pulled out of transporting them due to intimidation.
And Groundviews also said:
Despite efforts by the police to stop them, families of the the disappeared in the East marched to Batticaloa town to mark International Day of the Victims of Enforced Disappearances. #enforceddisappearances #humanrights #humanrightslka #lka #srilanka pic.twitter.com/DymLqHoGBR
— Groundviews (@groundviews) August 30, 2020
An analysis by TED & Ashoka Fellow Sanjana Hattotuwa showed that, while commemorations had good traction on Sri Lankan social media, only a few accounts from politicians engaged with the event:
On #InternationalDayoftheDisappeared, 5 diplomatic accounts & 1 #lka MP tweeted about enforced disappearances. On the face of it, suggests this tragic issue got traction in #srilanka, which is a good thing. Quick snapshot of data suggests things not so roseate. pic.twitter.com/8tKCoze52e
— Sanjana Hattotuwa (@sanjanah) September 2, 2020
When Maithripala Sirisena defeated Mahinda Rajapaksa in the 2015 elections, a glimmer of hope arose for families of the disappeared.
Sirisena admitted for the first time that 65,000 people were forcibly disappeared during the civil war. He promised to issue a certificate to the families that would allow them to access government welfare programs, as well as manage the property of their missing relatives.
In 2015, the government co-sponsored the landmark UN Human Rights Council Resolution 30/1, vowing to cooperate with the UN to promote reconciliation and accountability in Sri Lanka.
And in 2018, Sirisena created a department, the Office on Missing Persons, that promised to investigate and determine the fate of every disappeared person in Sri Lanka.
Progress was slow but steady until 2019 when the Rajapksa brothers returned to power.
In February 2020, they withdrew from its UN commitments. The brothers also created, according to many human rights groups, a climate of fear for the relatives of the victims, who face threats for making complaints or pursuing justice.
Human Rights Watch stated in February 2020:
Sri Lankan security forces and intelligence agencies have intensified surveillance and threats against families of victims of enforced disappearance and activists supporting them since Gotabaya Rajapaksa became president in November 2019.
In the past, President Gotabaya Rajapaksa was probed in Sri Lanka for being the “architect of the white van abductions.” In January this year, he stirred fresh outrage after saying, during a meeting with a UN representative, that the thousands missing were “actually dead.”
Minoli De Soysa, the editor of Groundviews, commented on his statement:
But how did they go missing, how did they die? Where is the evidence, where are the records? Can Sri Lanka just dismiss the fate of thousands of its citizens missing from all regions of the country as “actually dead?”
The President's office later said that media coverage of the statement had misquoted him and that what he meant was that investigations had to be conducted before a death certificate could be issued.
Vindhya Buthpitiya, a Sri Lankan expatriate student, tweeted remembering that hardly anyone in Sri Lanka has been held accountable for enforced disappearances, a crime that been committed by multiple ruling regimes throughout the country's history:
enforced disappearances have been pervasively used as an instrument of state terror since 1971 against every community in Sri Lanka, and no one has ever been held accountable. Tens of thousands of Lankans continue to live with irreconciled and irreconcilable loss.
— Vindhya Buthpitiya (@vindib_) August 30, 2020

author: Rezwan