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Tag: Karlos Zurutuza

  • The Baloch Women From Pakistan Want Their Missing Relatives Back

    The Baloch Women From Pakistan Want Their Missing Relatives Back

    A moment of the march as it passes through Punjab. Led by women, the march was an unprecedented protest in Pakistan. Credit: Baloch Yakjehti Committee
    • by Karlos Zurutuza (rome)
    • Inter Press Service

    “We are asking for an end to enforced disappearances and extrajudicial killings. We also demand the elimination of private militias,” the young woman explains in a phone conversation with IPS.

    Baloch and the group arrived after a march that started in Balochistan last November. Nested in the country’s southeast and sharing borders with both Afghanistan and Iran, it’s the largest and most sparsely populated province in Pakistan, enduring the highest rates of illiteracy and infant mortality. It’s also the one most affected by violence.

    Mahrang Baloch stresses that the trigger for the protest was the murder of a young Baloch man last November while he was in police custody. Following a two-week sit-in, the group decided to take the protest beyond the local province, embarking on a march to the Pakistani capital.

    Clad in colourful traditional Baloch costumes and bearing portraits of their missing relatives, they received the warmth and support of tens of thousands along the way. However, the march was eventually blocked at the gates of Pakistan’s capital on December 20.

    It was then that a police cordon permanently cut off their path on the outskirts of the city. The protesters refused to disband, so security forces responded with sticks, water jets and made hundreds of arrests.

    Many women were dragged onto buses that took them back to Quetta, the provincial capital of Balochistan – 900 kilometres southwest of Islamabad. The rest set up a protest camp in front of the National Press Club, in downtown Islamabad.

    After spending several hours in police custody, Baloch was eventually released. “We have carried the mutilated bodies of our loved ones. Several generations of us have seen much worse,” the young woman stresses.

    She claims to be “mentally prepared” for the possibility of joining the long list of missing persons herself. “We have reached a point where neither forced disappearances nor murders can stop us,” adds the activist.

    Mutilated and in ditches

    Divided by the borders of Iran, Afghanistan and Pakistan, Balochistan is the land of the Baloch, a nation of 15-20 million with a distinct language and culture. After the British withdrawal from India, they declared a state of their own in 1947, even before Pakistan did. Seven months later, however, Balochistan would be forcefully annexed by Islamabad.

    Violence has been rife ever since.

    In a report released on January 2023, Human Rights Watch accused Pakistani security forces of committing “serious human rights violations which include arbitrary arrests and extrajudicial executions.”

    In November 2021, Amnesty International published a report, titled “Living Ghosts,” calling on Islamabad “to end policies of enforced disappearances as well as secret and arbitrary detentions.”

    Baloch human rights organization Voice for Baloch Missing Persons(VBMP) points to more than 7,000 missing people in the last two decades.

    It was exactly for that reason that Mahrang Baloch was first imprisoned at 13, when she was protesting the disappearance of her father, Gaffar Lango, in 2006 in Quetta. After his release, Lango would be kidnapped again three years later. His body was found savagely mutilated in a ditch in 2011.

    Next on the list was her brother Nasir, who was abducted in 2018. “That was a turning point for me. It was clear that no one was safe, that it could happen to anyone,” recalls the activist.

    This square-jawed woman has become one of the drivers of change that the traditionally conservative Baloch society is undergoing through civil platforms such as the Baluche Unity Committee (BYC). They launched this protest.

    From a less visible position, Saeeda Baloch, a 45-year-old Baloch woman who works for an NGO she prefers not to disclose, has devoted herself to raising funds to offer food and shelter to the participants. Her reasons are powerful.

    “My husband was shot to death in 2011 when he was working collecting information about the disappeared and the killed. Moreover, his brother and my nephew have been missing since 2021,” Baloch explains to IPS by phone from Quetta.

    He says the initiative has been highly successful “despite the violence they had to face in Islamabad.”

    “Women have taken to the streets, many of them spending sub-zero nights with their babies. I can’t think of a more eloquent image of the determination of our people,” says the activist.

    Solidarity

    It was not the first time that Baloch men and women marched to the capital of Pakistan to protest over enforced disappearances. In October 2013, an initiative that started in the permanent protest camp of Quetta turned into a foot march to Islamabad.

    It was led by a 72-year-old man known as Mama Qadeer. His son’s body was recovered 800 kilometres from Quetta, where he had been kidnapped. He had two gunshot wounds to the chest and one to the head, cigarette burns on his back, a broken hand and torture marks all over his body.

    The figures of the so-called Great March for the Disappeared were as impressive as they were terrifying: 2,800 kilometres in 106 days during which 103 new unidentified bodies appeared in three mass graves.

    “What differentiates both protests is the great participation of women in the last one and, above all, its leadership,” Kiyya Baloch, a Norway-based journalist and analyst of the Baloch issue explains to IPS by phone.

    “This last march has already become a movement. Other than gathering great support in Balochistan, the Baloch who live in the province of Punjab, historically more silent, have also mobilized for the first time,” the expert emphasises.

    The expert also highlights the support received from sectors of Pakistan’s also neglected Pashtun minority, as well as from international personalities including activists Malala Yousafzai and Gretha Thunberg, and the writer Mohamed Hanif.

    The renowned British-Pakistani novelist made public that he had returned an award he had received in 2018. “I cannot accept this recognition from a State that kidnaps and tortures its Baloch citizens,” Hanif posted on his X account (formerly Twitter).

    So far, the Pakistani government has turned a deaf ear.

    In a televised appearance in January, Pakistani Prime Minister Anwar-ul-Haq Kakar referred to the protesters as “relatives of the terrorists” before adding that “anyone who supports the protest or writes about it should join the guerrilla.”

    “Enemies of humanity”

    At 80 years old, Makah Marri set foot in the capital of Pakistan for the first time in her life in the heat of the protest. She does not even speak Urdu – the country’s national language – but she is a well-known face at the numerous protests for the missing held in Balochistan.

    She misses her son, Shahnawaz Marri. She has not heard from him since he was taken away in 2012. “What the relatives of the disappeared suffer is daily mental torture,” Marri recalls over the phone to IPS from Islamabad.

    The images of the old woman, lifting the photo of her son above her head or being treated on the floor after fainting, have gone viral on social media. Today, she takes advantage of the conversation with the press to ask the rest of the world for “attention and support” for their cause.

    The “enemies of humanity,” she emphasizes, not only took away her son, but also the father of her grandchildren.

    © Inter Press Service (2024) — All Rights ReservedOriginal source: Inter Press Service

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  • Navigating Russian Censorship from the Polar Circle

    Navigating Russian Censorship from the Polar Circle

    Northern night in Kirkenes, 400 kilometres north of the Arctic Circle. This Norwegian town on the Russian border has become home to four exiled Russian journalists. Credit: Elizaveta Vereykina/IPS
    • by Karlos Zurutuza (madrid)
    • Inter Press Service

    “I was informed of this development last March. I won’t say it came as a surprise to me but it still made me worried,” the journalist explains to IPS by telephone from Kirkenes, a Norwegian town with just over 4,000 inhabitants bordering Russia.

    Chentemirov, 38, is one of many journalists who have been forced to leave the country in the past two years. He labels Moscow’s invasion of Ukraine — in February 2022 —as a “turning point” for the press in Russia.

    “The Censorship Law was passed under which it was considered a crime to talk about ‘war’ in Ukraine instead of ‘special operation’. We could only cite official sources, excluding even those from the UN. Going off script, even today, can lead to long prison sentences,” recalls the Russian journalist.

    Beyond his prominence in Russian media, Chentemirov also served as the president of the Union of Journalists of Karelia, his regional jurisdiction. “Despite the subservience of the Union of Russian Journalists is, we were very independent, we were never silent,” he underscores.

    Chentemirov speaks of a country where censorship is also exercised by blocking countless web pages and social networks and where many editors live under the pressure that an out-of-tone article may force them to fold.

    “Unfortunately, real journalism in Russia involves signing with pseudonyms to protect your identity and publishing for media outlets that are not in the country,” explains Chentemirov.

    Today he works for the Barents Observer, a digital media that has collaborated with Russian journalists for 20 years and has recently added three other Russian journalists to its staff.

    “It is key to have a Russian-speaking media that can call a war ‘war’, and that covers topics banned in Russia such as certain civil initiatives, the political opposition, the brutality of the Ukrainian front, the lies of the Kremlin…,” Thomas Nilsen, editor-in-chief of the Barents Observer, explains to IPS over the phone from Kirkenes.

    Over the years, they have gained deep experience in avoiding Russian censorship. In 2019, however, it became the first Nordic media to be blocked in Russia. Nilsen claims to have resources today to overcome obstacles on the Internet.

    His readers are also forced to use alternative ways to access information.

    “As most foreign media outlets that do real journalism are banned in Russia, millions access the Internet through tools like VPNs,” explains the Norwegian journalist.

    “Climate of terror”

    The Committee to Protect Journalists has denounced the classification of dozens of media outlets and more than 100 journalists as “foreign agents” in Russia since 2021.

    The NGO which promotes the rights of journalists worldwide, points to at least 19 Russian journalists currently in prison. The most recent two were sentenced on November 17, to sentences of 9.5 and 10.5 years under “fabricated” charges according to the CPJ statement.

    Russia has fallen to 164th place (out of 180) in Reporters Without Borders’ World Press Freedom Index.

    “It is today, with the war in Ukraine, that we see all this disinformation machinery operating at full capacity, but we need to remember that it was created by Vladimir Putin back in 2005,” Alfonso Bauluz, president of Reporters Without Borders Spain, explains to IPS from Madrid.

    Bauluz regrets the “impossibility” of disagreement in Russia. He points to “insane” regulations that, he stresses, are pushing many independent journalists into exile and forcing those who stay to keep a low profile.

    Among the initiatives launched by RSF, the one led by the German section of the NGO stands out: two million euros have been raised to give economic viability to newsrooms in exile and to assist in evacuating journalists.

    However, harassment is not exclusive to Russian journalists. There are two Americans among those imprisoned in Russia and many more foreign correspondents based in the country have been forced to leave.

    “Before the war in Ukraine it was already difficult and dangerous to work in the country. Today, however, we can say that journalism no longer exists in Russia,” Marc Marginedas, correspondent in Moscow for eleven years for the Periódico de Catalunya, told IPS by telephone.

    He speaks from his native Barcelona after leaving the country last year. Other than a “climate of terror” that, the journalist says, the press in Russia lives in, Marginedas describes the Kremlin’s communication policy as an “orgy of fake news.”

    “There´s also the administrative offensive: visas that need to be renewed every three months, the bureaucratic nightmare of renting an apartment and obtaining registration from the Migration Service…,” explains the Spanish journalist.

    Starting over

    Everything is more painful when it’s your house you can’t return to. After seven years working for the BBC, the British public broadcaster, Moscow reporter Elizaveta Vereykina left Russia a few weeks after Moscow launched its offensive in Ukraine.

    “I worked for the channel for a few months in Turkey and Latvia. Then the BBC asked me to go back because they needed people in Russia and I did, in May 2022,” Vereykina tells IPS in a telephone conversation from Tromso, in Norway´s far north. It was barely four months until she decided to leave the country again.

    “The situation was getting worse every day and I felt it was dangerous. People were afraid to talk to us because it was a foreign channel. Besides, it was increasingly difficult to travel within the country and even do things as simple as making a reservation at a hotel,” she recalls.

    Her colleague at the BBC, the veteran British journalist Sarah Rainsford, had been forced to leave the country in August, 2021. “Even before the invasion it was clear that things were beginning to change, that we were heading towards a real witch hunt,” adds the Russian reporter.

    After passing through the United Kingdom and Georgia, Vereykina accepted the Barents Observer’s invitation to join its staff last February. Without losing sight of current events in her country of origin, she also focuses on the threats suffered by the delicate Arctic ecosystem.

    “I am in love with this part of the world and, today, I enjoy the freedom of being able to choose my own topics,” she says, just before adding that she does not see a future for herself in Russia.

    © Inter Press Service (2023) — All Rights ReservedOriginal source: Inter Press Service

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  • Iran, a Murdered Teenager and a Fading Protest

    Iran, a Murdered Teenager and a Fading Protest

    Several women dance and burn their veils during a nighttime demonstration in Bandar Abbas, southwestern Iran. The protest is in response to the tragic deaths of Jina Amini, who was beaten for not wearing the veil properly, and Armita Geravand on October 28 for similar reasons. Credit: Social networks
    • by Karlos Zurutuza (rome)
    • Inter Press Service

    Geravand’s death took place 13 months after Jina Amini´s, a 22-year-old Kurdish woman also beaten to death after being arrested in Tehran. She was also wearing her veil in the wrong way.

    Amini’s murder, however, was the trigger for one of the largest protests that have shaken the Islamic Republic of Iran since its foundation in 1979. Hundreds of thousands of young women and men took to the streets chanting “Women, life, freedom” all across the country.

    The Government responded with a wave of repression that resulted in hundreds of deaths and thousands of arrests between 2022 and 2023.

    Removing the Islamic veil in public, or even burning it, has been a recurring gesture nationally to denounce the constant violation of women’s rights in Iran.

    Such a powerful image became the key symbol in protests which also included demands from the country’s minorities.

    Both the previous monarchical regime (1925-1979) and the current one have focused on building a national identity as a homogeneous Persian society, ignoring the rest of the nations of Iran.

    Thus, Farsi is the only official language in a country where any expression of identities other than Persian is banned and even punished. But it turns out that minorities are the majority: more than 60% of the almost 90 million Iranians are not Persians.

    This is the case of the Baloch, a people numbering about four million in the extreme southeast of Iran, bordering Pakistan and Afghanistan.

    A former political prisoner, Shahzavar Karimzadi is today the vice president of the Free Balochistan Movement, a political party banned in Iran that brings together Baloch people from three territories: Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan.

    “We have been fighting for our most basic national rights for many years. We advocate for a secular, decentralized and democratic State, but that does not mean that we rule out our right to self-determination,” Karimzadi told IPS over the phone from London.

    Apparently, Balochistan under Iranian control is the only corner of the country where the protest has not yet faded away. Karimzadi stressed that his people continue to demonstrate every Friday in Zahedan – the provincial capital, 1,100 kilometres southeast of Tehran – “despite the violence with which the regime responds.”

    It’s true. An Amnesty International report published on October 26 denounced cases of torture of detainees in mass arrests in Balochistan that included children. The NGO urged the Iranian authorities to allow access to a UN mission to investigate human rights violations related to the protest.

    The statistics speak volumes. Although the Baloch in Iran make up 4% of the country’s total population, a study by the Iranian NGO Iran Human Rights found that 30% of those executed by the State in 2022 belonged to this ethnic group.

    From the mountains to the sea

    Like the Baloch, the Kurds are also predominantly Sunni Muslims, an added stigma to their distinct ethnicity from the Persians under the ruling Shiite theocracy..

    With a population estimated between ten and fifteen million, they live mainly in the northwest of the country, on the borders of Turkey and Iraq.

    In an interview with IPS in the mountains between Iraq and Iran, Zilan Vejin, co-president of the Party for a Free Life in Kurdistan (PJAK), recalled that the slogan, “Woman, life and freedom” was coined by the Kurdish movement during a 2013 meeting.

    “The protest started in Kurdistan led by women. From there, it spread throughout the country because it brings together people of all nationalities within Iran,” explained Vejin.

    According to the guerrilla leader, calls against the mandatory use of the Islamic veil are “nothing more than the excuse for a revolt that calls for freedom and democracy.”

    Vejin outlined his political project not only for Iran but for the region as a whole. It is a decentralized model, “a democracy built from the bottom up that advocates secularism, gender equality and the right of all peoples to develop their culture and language.”

    It could be a solution that the Ahwazis of Iran could also accept.

    They number about twelve million and concentrate on the shores of the Persian Gulf, right on the border with Iraq. They have paid for their Arab language and culture with decades of repression — from both the previous and current Iranian regimes.

    Faisal al Ahwazi is the spokesperson for the Ahwazi Democratic Popular Front, one of the minority’s main political organizations. In a conversation with IPS by telephone from London, Al Ahwazi explained why his people had distanced themselves from the latest wave of protests.

    “The repression we suffered in November 2019 is still too present. Back then, more than 200 Ahwazi protesters were murdered by the regime. That protest had no replicas in the rest of the country and we did not feel solidarity towards us,” lamented Al Ahwazi.

    He highlighted the “lack of coordination” in the most recent protests and warned of dangers that may arise from a falsely executed regime change. “If the Persians want to remain in power, there will be a civil war,” said Al Ahwazi.

    “Separatists”

    One of the features of the last wave of protests in Iran has been the high level of participation by young people and their commitment to a “horizontal” movement. Although the absence of leadership has often been taken as a virtue, many analysts identify it as one of the reasons behind its failure.

    Mehrab Sarjov, a political analyst and observer of the Iranian issue, also points out the lack of common goals and plans. “We don’t even know what kind of a country they vow for when the clerics are no longer there,” Sarjov explained to IPS from London over the phone.

    The expert also recalled that Azeris make the country’s main minority and he highlighted their ties with both Turkey and Azerbaijan.

    “Even if it´s Azeri, Kurdish, Arab or Baloch autonomists asking for decentralization and democratization of the country, they´re always labelled as ‘separatists’ by the Persians and automatically discarded,” explained Sarjov.

    “It is the rhetoric of the ‘developed centre’ versus a ‘periphery’ whose economic and social backwardness is a consequence, they say, of its distance from that very centre,” he added.

    In the absence of an inclusive project from the Persian core of the country, Sarjov points to the country’s minorities as “the main opposition force to the Government.”

    But further steps need to be taken.

    “Even the most secular and progressive Persians still do not recognize the rest of the peoples of Iran. It will still take time until they understand that they have to sit down and talk to them in order to articulate a movement with a chance of success,” concluded the expert.

    © Inter Press Service (2023) — All Rights ReservedOriginal source: Inter Press Service

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  • After Nagorno-Karabakh, is Armenia Next?

    After Nagorno-Karabakh, is Armenia Next?

    Civilians are evacuated in Stepanakert, the capital of Nagorno-Karabakh, after the Azeri attack on September 19. Local administration data estimates the population of Karabakh at 120,000. Credit: Siranush Sargsyan/IPS.
    • by Karlos Zurutuza (rome)
    • Inter Press Service

    Also called Artsakh by its Armenian population, Nagorno-Karabakh is a self-proclaimed republic within Azerbaijan which had sought international recognition and independence since the dissolution of the Soviet Union in 1991.

    But that´s unlikely ever to happen.

    Aware of the enemy’s military superiority, and exhausted by a ten-month blockade by the Azeri army that has left its residents without even the most basic supplies, the Armenians of the enclave capitulated in less than 24 hours.

    These fast-moving events, however, are just the latest chapter in a violent, painful saga dating all the way back to the end of the Cold War.

    During the Soviet collapse, conflict between Armenians and Azeris led to a chain of forced expulsions and violence escalated sharply in Nagorno-Karabakh.

    Thirty years ago, the First Nagorno-Karabakh War (1988-1994) ended with an Armenian victory this time, leading to the exodus of more than half a million Azerbaijanis back to Azerbaijan.

    For the next 25 years, Armenians in the enclave enjoyed their own de facto republic, which they resumed calling by its old name: Artsakh.

    However, the international community did not recognize Artsakh. Meanwhile, Azerbaijan spent those decades investing new profits from gas and oil to strengthen its army, investing heavily in new, high-tech military technology.

    Azerbaijan would unleash its new force in 2020, during the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War. After 44 days of horror, Baku would retake many of the areas lost years before.

    Armenians fled, some even digging up their dead from cemeteries and driving away with their ancestors in the trunk of their cars for reburial elsewhere, so certain they would never return to that land again.

    For Azerbaijan, however, it was an incomplete victory. The Armenians had lost two-thirds of the territory under their control in the second war. But the areas Armenian troops had held on included key regions such as the capital and its surrounding districts.

    Carnegie Europe’s Thomas de Waal, author of Black Garden: Armenia and Azerbaijan Through Peace and War, describes the conflict between Armenians and Azeris as “ethnic cleansing by each side in turn, rather than diplomacy.”

    That the Azeris had squandered their turn three years ago became clear on September 19. The job had to be finished.

    Now what?

    Local sources point to hundreds of dead and thousands of displaced, although it is still too early to know the real figures. What can be confirmed is the mass exodus of thousands of Karabakhis to Armenia.

    In addition to the disarmament and dismantling of the Armenian administration of the enclave, Baku has called for its “full integration into Azerbaijani society.”

    Could the enclave become an autonomous region within Azerbaijan? It’s unlikely.

    If nearly a million members of the Talish people -a Persian-speaking minority, many of whom people also live in neighbouring Iran- do not enjoy any rights as a minority in Azerbaijan, what could the 120,000 Armenians from Karabakh possibly expect?

    The only thing standing between them and the Azeris were the Russian peacekeepers deployed after the 2020 peace agreement launched by Moscow.

    But it didn´t quite work.

    During the three years since the second war, armed incidents were common along an uneasy contact line between the two sides. Russian peacekeepers were hesitant to get between the two longstanding enemies, with Russian forces limiting themselves to observing and taking cover during frequent flareups.

    Armenia’s Prime Minister, Nikol Pashinyan, had frequently accused the international community of looking the other way. Calls for Russia to be more assertive in its peacekeeping mission on the border received a cold shoulder from the Kremlin.

    In early September, Armenia and the United States conducted joint military manoeuvres, widely interpreted as a signal that Armenia had run out of patience with Moscow.

    Five Russian soldiers are reported dead in the current Azeri attack. But even that appears to have drawn little response from Moscow.

    Complicating the situation further, the European Union maintains gas supply agreements with Azerbaijan, which have become key to making up Russian supplies disrupted by the war in Ukraine.

    A complicit silence from the EU on the invasion has allowed Baku and Moscow to close ranks against the West. Only Turkey -a close ally of Azerbaijan- is likely to find an open line to Baku and Moscow now, and may play a crucial role as a third voice.

    Amid the high-wire diplomacy, regular Karabakhis have been abandoned to their fate, and for most fleeing to Armenia is the only option. Images from the brutal 2020 second war, of Azeri soldiers cutting off the noses and ears of civilians and vandalizing monasteries, remain fresh in local memory.

    Just a slice of land

    The new conflict has also shed light on a longstanding strategic objective of Baku: to join the region to Turkey and the Mediterranean. Azerbaijan has been deploying troops in Armenia´s recognized territory since 2020, in a southern region called Syunik.

    The strategic strip of land is the only thing standing in the way of connecting the Caspian region to commercial and military access to the open sea. Importantly, it’s a longstanding goal Baku shares with a key regional power, Turkey.

    Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev clings to point 9 of the peace agreement that ended the 2020 war.

    Where it says: “Ensure the free movement of people, vehicles and goods,” Aliyev believes he reads something about a certain “corridor” that, of course, he would control but that could isolate Armenia from its Persian neighbour.

    Its consequences for Armenia would be disastrous: Iran is the only country with which Armenia maintains a fluid commercial link given that its borders with Azerbaijan and Turkey have been closed since the 90s.

    On the other hand, relations with Georgia tend to be problematic due to ties of this with Ankara.

    On Monday 25, while Karabakhis were fleeing in their dozens of thousands, Turkish President, Recep Tayyip Erdogan visited the Azerbaijani enclave of Nakhchivan for the first time.

    Bordering Turkey, Nakhichevan would be a strategic part of the controversial corridor.

    The fate of Nagorno-Karabakh will surely ripple through the region and beyond. “If Artsakh falls, Armenia will also fall,” Davit Baboyan, former Foreign minister of the enclave, told IPS several months ago.

    Baboyan calls the current situation the “worst moment in Armenian history since the genocide.” More than one and a half million Armenians were exterminated in the Armenian genocide, the notorious Anatolian purges that occurred in the first decades of the 20th century.

    On August 9, a former prosecutor of the International Criminal Court, Luís Moreno Ocampo, warned of “the threat of a new genocide against the Armenian people.”

    As the world watches the exodus of the Karabkhis from the land they have inhabited for thousands of years, the images may be repeated in Armenia in the short term.

    © Inter Press Service (2023) — All Rights ReservedOriginal source: Inter Press Service

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  • In Northern Syria, Palestinians Finance Settlements in Kurdish-Occupied Areas

    In Northern Syria, Palestinians Finance Settlements in Kurdish-Occupied Areas

    An elderly woman joins a caravan of displaced people during the joint offensive by Ankara and Islamist militias against the Kurdish-Syrian enclave of Afrin, in January 2018. Only 20% of the original population remains in the occupied zone today. Credit: HH/IPS
    • by Karlos Zurutuza, Gilad Sade (rome)
    • Inter Press Service

    “I was very curious so I asked a relative to send me the video to see what state our house was in,” Hassan Hassan told IPS by phone. This 50-year-old English teacher lived there with his family before they were expelled in 2018.

    Today he lives with his family in Shehba, a Kurdish region 30 kilometers to the east that has welcomed thousands of displaced people.

    The Syrian Kurdish enclave of Afrin – 300 kilometers north of Damascus – was a Kurdish-majority territory bordering Turkey that enjoyed self-government.

    In January 2018, Turkey launched Operation Olive Branch, a cross-border attack through which Ankara gave air support to Islamist militias on the ground.

    The offensive caused the displacement of more than 150,000 people – almost 80% of the population of Afrin – according to UN data, as well as a chain of abuses and human rights violations.

    During the siege, the Hassans barely had time to flee. “We were 19 Kurdish families living in that block, but we lost everything: our books, our photos, memories… Of course, we also lost the right to claim our property,” recalls the Kurd.

    The reasons can be found in a report published in June 2022 by Syrians for Truth and Justice. The France-based NGO which documents human rights violations in Syria points to an ambitious settlement project that kicked off in 2020.

    According to the investigation, the project is commanded by Rahmi Do?an —governor of the Turkish border province of Hatay— and financed by organizations from several countries in the Middle East. The beneficiaries are Islamist combatants and ex-combatants and their respective families.

    The NGO has found “indicators of demographic change” and draws a parallel with displacement and resettlement in East Timor after Indonesia invaded the territory in 1975.

    David M. Mañá, a Spanish journalist specializing in the Kurdish issue, recalls that barely 20% of the original Kurdish population remains in Afrin. He points to “a forced repopulation campaign” moving displaced Arabs from the rest of Syria into the enclave.

    “It´s not just about expelling the local Kurdish population; they also want to erase all traces of their language or self-government. Today the Turkish flag is flown even in schools where Kurdish is no longer taught, but Turkish is,” the expert told IPS, by phone from Barcelona.

    Access to the Kurdish enclave remains under the exclusive control of the Turkish Interior Ministry. In February, 2022 and 2023, the Turkish authorities organized two tours for reporters who worked under the constant surveillance of government agents.

    According to data obtained by the North Press Agency —a media outlet in northeastern Syria —the more than 20 settlements built in Afrin add to approximately 100 that Turkey has built throughout the occupied areas of northern Syria.

    “We Kurds cannot and do not want to live under the control of these people. We only ask to return to our homes, but that will never be possible without an international protection that guarantees our safety,” Ibrahim Shekho, the president of the Afrin Human Rights Organization, told IPS over the phone from the Shehba refugee camp.

    Shekho said he is not surprised by the presence of countries like Kuwait, Qatar or Oman behind the project. The Palestinian involvement is something else.

    “I cannot understand that there are Palestinians who are able to forget the injustice they suffer at the hands of the Israeli authorities and wish the same to us,” he lamented.

    Palestinian involvement

    Living with Dignity is one among several Palestinian NGOs legally registered at Israel’s Ministry of Justice. They also introduce themselves as Alaysh 48 (“People of 48”), recalling that they are Palestinian citizens of Israel who reject the country’s borders established in 1948.

    On its Facebook page, they claim to be raising funds for Syrian settlements through Hapoalim Bank. It is a financial entity known for channelling money for the construction of settlements in Palestinian territory. They have a branch in the settlement of Ariel.

    According to documentation from the Israeli Ministry of Justice examined by IPS, it was in November 2019 when Living with Dignity contacted Turkish organizations “to help Syrian refugees in Turkey.” Their first project included the construction of 112 apartments and 10 mosques in Afrin in 2021.

    Since then, they have not stopped raising funds for similar settlements in the region.

    The last one that they have co-financed is that of Shadere, which opened last May. What remains of its original Yezidi population has been forced into an Islamic education by the Islamist factions controlling the area.

    Initially, Shaikh Sallam, an executive member of Living with Dignity, agreed to answer questions from IPS, but he ended up declining the invitation.

    However, Living with Dignity is not the only Palestinian-run NGO involved in settlement construction in northern Syria.

    Ajnadin, an NGO which has its headquarters in Bayt Hanina — an occupied district in east Jerusalem —is behind several projects, such as the Adjanin Palestinesettlement, opened last January.

    On their website, Albairaq -another Palestinian NGO- also claims to be raising money for the programme. IPS contacted Rashad Wattad, an executive member of Albairaq .

    “The only aid we have provided to Syrian refugees was after the earthquake and includes food for tents and other basic humanitarian aid,” the Palestinian explained over the phone from the Triangle, a cluster of Arab towns adjacent to the Green Line separating pre-1967 Israel from the Occupied Palestinian Territories,

    Asked about the settlements in Syria mentioned in their own reports, Wattad admitted that they had been built in collaboration with Living with Dignity. “They have access to the area,” Wattad clarified.

    The Palestinian refused to disclose the number of houses built and still in the pipeline. He said he did not see any contradiction in supporting a settlement program similar to the one his people suffer on their own land.

    “We just want to help the people,” said Wattad.

    Wafa Al-Muhsinin is an Istanbul-based Palestinian organization involved in the Al Zaim settlement. It owes its name to a Palestinian town occupied in 1967.

    It opened last year in Jindires, very close to that empty house that appears in the video sent to Hassan Hassan.

    “They told us that a family from Idlib (northwestern Syria) had settled in our house, but that they later moved to a settlement after the earthquake. It is still standing, but it is damaged and it is no longer safe”, said the Kurdish man.

    Jindires settlement was one of the points mentioned in a letter that Kurds from Afrin sent to Nazmi Hazouri, the Palestinian consul in the Kurdish Autonomous Region of Iraq.

    “The word ‘settlement’ horrifies us, and we categorically reject the construction of any in our name,” Hazouri told Kurdish journalists.

    Meanwhile, the human flow is directed through northern Syria through a concrete riverbed.

    Hassan Hassan is reluctant to rule out going back to Afrin in the future, but he prefers to be realistic. In Shehba the danger is constant and he fears going through the same thing again.

    “We´ll have to leave again, that´s our only certainty.”

    © Inter Press Service (2023) — All Rights ReservedOriginal source: Inter Press Service

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  • Journalists in Balochistan: Keep Quiet or Die

    Journalists in Balochistan: Keep Quiet or Die

    A protest in front of the Quetta Press Club against repression by the Pakistani state. Credit: Karlos Zurutuza / IPS
    • by Karlos Zurutuza (hamburg, germany)
    • Inter Press Service

    “I still don’t understand how a territory divided by the borders of Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan remains so unknown to the rest of the world. I can’t think of a people who receive as little attention as the Baloch,” Martin Axmann told IPS.

    This doctor in Political Science and author of one of the most referential recent books on the Baloch question – Back to the Future (Oxford, 2008) – points to a strategic territory the size of France which boasts huge reserves of gold, gas and uranium.

    Axmann is one of the speakers at a conference organized by the Movement for a Free Balochistan – a political organization with a “secular and democratic” project -, on the 75th anniversary of Balochistan´s forced annexation by Pakistan.

    Today it is the most depopulated province, the one with the highest rates of illiteracy and infant mortality, and the one most affected by violence. It´s also the most hermetic one.

    The German expert would not have been able to access the area if he had travelled as a journalist. The few that have tried have been expelled from the country and banned, or even worse.

    Carlotta Gal was a correspondent for The New York Times when she was brutally beaten in Quetta – the provincial capital, 900 kilometers southeast of Islamabad – in 2006 by a group of men who identified themselves as “members of a special section of the Pakistani police.”

    They told her that she lacked permission to be in Quetta.

    After nine years as an Islamabad correspondent for The Guardian and The New York Times, Declan Walsh was expelled from the country in 2013 for “undesirable activities”. He had written an article about the missing Baloch in Pakistan.

    Due to this firewall against the foreign press, the responsibility for reporting falls exclusively on local journalists. Pakistani journalist and best-selling author elaborates on this:

    “Reporters on the ground face constant threats from Pakistani secret services, Baloch movements and sectarian groups. We often never get to find out who is behind many of the attacks,” Rashid told IPS by phone from his residence in the Pakistani city of Lahore.

    He claims that many of his colleagues resort to “self-censorship”:

    “It’s simply not reported. And if Balochistan is not in Pakistan’s media eye, it will not reach the outside world either as most of the Western media is fed by press agencies.”

    In its latest report on press freedom worldwide, Reporters Without Borders ranks Pakistan 157th, describing it as “one of the most dangerous countries in the world for journalists.”

    The Balochistan Union of Journalists points to more than 40 journalists killed in Balochistan between bomb blasts and targeted killings, some of them committed outside the country.

    Sajid Hussain’s body was found Baloch in a river on the outskirts of Uppsala (Sweden). RSF then pointed to the possibility that it was the work of Pakistani agencies.

    “Eight months later, the body of Karima Baloch, a Baloch activist and human rights defender, was rescued from the waters of Lake Ontario (Canada). The BBC had included her on its list of “the 100 most inspiring and influential women” of 2016.

    On “ground zero”

    “When you are a journalist in Balochista, it is the security agencies that contact you directly: they call you by phone, they reach out when you cover a press conference, a protest in the street…”.

    Thus begins the story of Ahmad, an exiled Baloch journalist who prefers not to disclose his full name or country of residence to IPS to avoid reprisals on his family back home.

    “One of the most sensitive stories is that of the enforced disappearances. In the eyes of the agencies, the simple fact of speaking with their relatives means that you are working against the State,” underlines the Baluch man on a videoconference.

    In 2022 alone, Amnesty International reported more than 2,000 cases in Pakistan, a phenomenon that the NGO describes as “frequent” in the province of Balochistan .

    Ahmad recalls how difficult it was to cover the news about Balochistan, and also that phone call while he was covering the story of a murdered colleague:

    “We know who you and your brothers are. We also know that you have two children, what school do they go to… Do you want them to stay alive?” he was told over the phone.

    Ahmad soon realized that he was being followed. A few days later, he was run over while riding his motorcycle to work.

    “I was lucky to get out unharmed and that there were a lot of people around. The car turned around and left,” recalls this journalist who left the country soon after.

    It was the same threats that pushed Kiyya Baloch into exile. He´s a seasoned reporter with several publications The Guardian , The Telegraph or the BBC .

    “That pressure ended up affecting my family. They couldn’t stop thinking that I could be assassinated at any moment,” told IPS over the phone this reporter who prefers not to reveal his current coordinates.

    “I even receive threats in this country where I am now,” he apologizes, before pointing to other coercive measures.

    “The Government also puts the pressure on the media so that they do not hire you, or you get fired; they drown you financially in order to cut your wings as a journalist until. Eventually, you end up leaving the country,” adds Baloch.

    Listening to the BBC and Voice of America radio broadcast at home from a very young age was what sparked Zeynap’s vocation . She chooses a random name in order to protect herself.

    She speaks from “ground zero” and from a “much more fragile” position than that of her male colleagues.

    “We share with them the fear of state surveillance, but then there are those cultural barriers that only us, women, face,” the reporter told IPS by phone.

    An example of that, she explains, is how women are perceived in those “all-men protests.”

    “You want to do your job but at the same time, want to respect the culture so at the end, you heavily rely on sources. Even if you are not very far from the place you are researching, you make phone calls to ask others instead of going to the spot yourself”, she explains.

    Zeynap points to “human” issues beyond the purely political. “Did you know that more than half of the girls here do not go to school? Few issues seem more important to me than this one,” she stresses.

    How to tell that and other stories from Balochistan to the outside world?

    The reporter recalls the veto on international NGOs, and she also does not foresee any changes in the government’s policies towards journalists.

    “The international community and human rights organizations will have to step in,” says Zeynap. “I do not see any other way around.”

    © Inter Press Service (2023) — All Rights ReservedOriginal source: Inter Press Service

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  • Turkish Writer Pinar Selek Faces Her Fifth Life Sentence

    Turkish Writer Pinar Selek Faces Her Fifth Life Sentence

    Pinar Selek, a Turkish writer, is the victim of one of the most Kafkaesque trials in Turkey’s history. Credit: Juantxo Egaña/IPS
    • by Karlos Zurutuza (biarritz, france)
    • Inter Press Service

    According to Turkish courts, she also planted a bomb that killed seven people and injured more than 120 in Istanbul’s Spice Bazaar 25 years ago.

    “Up to four scientific reports, including the one from the Turkish police themselves, pointed to a gas explosion, but later they said that it had been a bomb, and that I had planted it,” Pinar Selek tells IPS. This 51-year-old Turkish woman is embroiled in one of the strangest trials in the history of the Turkish judiciary.

    “It’s Kafkaesque,” she blurts. “The case is based on the testimony of a Kurdish man who said that we had planted the bomb together. Later, he claimed to have confessed under torture, and that he didn’t even know me. He is free in Turkey, and I am in exile.”

    On June 21, 2022, the Turkish public news agency Anadolu announced the annulment by the Supreme Court of Turkey of Pinar Selek’s fourth acquittal. Previously, she had been found innocent in three criminal proceedings.

    But the sentence to life imprisonment is already firm and unappealable. On January 6, 2023, the Istanbul Court of First Instance issued an international arrest warrant for her.

    Martin Pradel, Selek’s lawyer, talks about a “purely political case”.

    “I have never heard of any other case that has gone on for 25 years without legal evidence of any kind. And this is without mentioning that Pinar has been acquitted up to four times,” Pradel told IPS over the phone from Paris.

    The lawyer urged the French state to give Selek protection as a French citizen. If not, he added, the next step would be to appeal to the European Court of Human Rights.

    “Where are they?”

    Born into an Istanbul family of left militants, Pinar Selek has devoted her life to making visible those “invisible” in her country of origin: women and Kurds, prostitutes, Roma, homosexuals, Armenians…

    “Where are they?” has always been her question as a researcher, and also as an activist. It was this vital commitment that brought her to prison in 1998, after refusing to hand the police a list of Kurdish contacts for one of her sociological studies.

    “When they started building new prisons, we resisted being transferred. More than 300 died under attacks in which prisons were even bombed,” remembers Selek.

    She was released after more than two years of captivity, torture, and a hunger strike in which, she says, dozens died. Back on the street, she was one of the founders of Amargi, a groundbreaking feminist organization in Turkey, and also the first feminist bookstore in the history of her country.

    She has added a set of tales and a few books of her own to its shelves, but she has not been back in a long time. She had to leave the country in 2009 and, after getting her French citizenship in 2017, she settled down in Nice, where she teaches at the University Côte d’Azur, a public institution.

    Ilya Topper, a Spanish journalist and analyst based in Istanbul for more than ten years, sees the trial opened against Selek in 1998 as “part of that brutal campaign against everything that seemed to treat Kurdish demands as a topic that could be discussed.“

    “Until around 2005, anyone within a hundred meters of a protest which held a banner with a slogan that had any remote resemblance to a phrase once said by someone from the PKK (Kurdistan Workers’ Party) would be put in jail for many years,” the expert told IPS over the phone from Istanbul.

    Until just over a decade ago, he adds, mayors were still sentenced for saying something in Kurdish on charges of “speaking a non-existent language.” He illustrates it with a concrete case:

    “In 2011, a Kurdish mayor was sentenced to half a year in prison and a fine of 1,500 euros for naming a public park after Ehmedi Xani, an 18th-century Kurdish poet. The controversial issue was not the writer, but the initial letter of his last name: it is written with X, which exists in Kurdish, but not in Turkish.”

    The trial against Selek, underlines the analyst, “highlights the deterioration of the Turkish Judiciary in a country where you can go to prison for any reason.”

    Solidarity

    Several human rights watchdogs have consistently denounced Selek’s case. Human Rights Watch describes it as “the perversion of a criminal justice system”; the International PEN Club – a world association of writers with consultative status at the UN- includes Selek in its list of 115 authors who suffer harassment, arrest or violence around the world.

    In a telephone conversation with IPS, its president, Burhan Sönmez, mentioned other notorious cases in Turkey, such as that of the publisher and human rights defender Osman Kavala, or the opposition politician Selahattin Demirta?

    “Both remain behind bars despite the European Court of Human Rights ruling for their immediate release,” Sönmez stressed from London.

    Solidarity goes hand in hand with denunciation. More than a hundred personalities including intellectuals, political leaders and social agents will attend the hearing to be held in Istanbul on March 31. It’s a legal formality to notify Selek of her firm life sentence.

    Michele Rubirola, former mayoress of Marseille and today the first deputy of the consistory, is the one chosen to represent the city. In a telephone conversation with IPS, Rubirola spoke of “someone who is a victim of injustice and oppression.”

    “Selek ‘s academic struggles have turned into political struggles, and the relentlessness of the political and judicial power she is facing consolidates her as a true human rights activist,” added the delegate.

    A judicial process that has lasted a quarter of a century is reaching a key moment just a few weeks before decisive elections in Turkey, a referendum on the more than two decades in the power for Turkey’s President, Recep Tayyip Erdo?an.

    “My trial is one of the indicators of the evil rooted in Turkey: it reflects both the continuity of the authoritarian regime and the configurations of the repressive devices,” laments Selek.

    She also confesses concern about how it may affect her family in Turkey, and herself in her host country.

    “I am convicted of a massacre and my movement may be restricted internationally, and even within France. Moreover, Turkey is asking me for millions in compensation for the deaths and the destruction and there´s an international financial convention that could be executed in France,” she recalls.

    Today, her only certainty is that she will try to move on with her life. Other than her work at the university, she also gives talks and organizes events and protests. Exile, she says, “may have uprooted me from my country, but not from the street.”

    © Inter Press Service (2023) — All Rights ReservedOriginal source: Inter Press Service

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  • The Sami People’s Fight Against Norwegian Windmills

    The Sami People’s Fight Against Norwegian Windmills

    The Sami people protested in the centre of Oslo against the Fosen wind farm, in the north of Norway (Jannicke Totland/ Natur og Ungdom)
    • by Karlos Zurutuza (rome)
    • Inter Press Service

    But it is not a mirage.

    “The wind farm crisscrosses areas of winter pasture that can no longer be used because the reindeer will never come near the windmills. Thus, an ancestral migration route that is crucial for us has been destroyed,” says Maria Puenchir, a 31-year-old human rights activist who is well-known in the region, and presents herself as “queer, Sami and disabled”, told IPS over the phone.

    The Sami, also known as Lapps or Saami, are a people spread across the northern borders of Norway, Sweden, Finland and Russia, in a territory they call Sápmi.

    Puenchir spoke from her native Trondheim, very close to the peninsula where the wind complex stands today under scrutiny. Its construction began in 2016 despite numerous calls for its suspension, including one from the United Nations, citing its potential impact on the way of life of local communities.

    Five years later and one after its completion, the Norwegian Supreme Court ruled unanimously among its eleven judges that the installation was illegal and violated the rights of reindeer herders to develop their culture.

    “The ruling is clear, but it does not explain what to do with the wind turbines. Not only have they not been dismantled, but they continue to function,” laments Puenchir.

    On January 30, Amnesty International launched a campaign asking that the judicial resolution be respected and “a continuous violation of human rights be stopped and repaired.”

    It was on February 23 when a group of young people dressed in traditional Sami costumes decided to wrestle with the Norwegian state. After occupying the offices of the Ministry of Oil for four days, they were evicted by the police, but managed to block several other ministries before a crowdy sit-in in front of the Royal Palace, on March 3.

    “The initiative arose from an Instagram campaign among the Sami youth. They began to count the days that passed without any finger being lifted since the Norwegian Supreme Court ruling. When the account reached 500, they took to the streets,” Puenchir recalls.

    She did not hesitate to fly to Oslo to join the group, nor did Greta Thunberg. The well-known activist for the defense of the climate this time joined a protest against a “green” energy project.

    “I had the chance to come and show my support to this struggle. All those who have a possibility to support local struggles like these should do so,” Thunberg explained to IPS, by phone from the streets of Oslo.

    “All over the world we are seeing the continuation of land grabbing and exploitation of indigenous land, but we can also see that the resistance is continuing and growing,” claimed the activist before calling for “the end of the colonization of Sápmi.”

    On March 2, the Sami heard an apology from the Norwegian Government delivered by Terje Aasland, the country’s minister of Oil and Energy

    “They have spent a long time in a difficult and uncertain situation and I feel sorry for them,” Aasland said, after meeting with the president of the Sámi Parliament, Silje Karine Mutoka

    For the moment, Oslo has repeated a mantra that the wind power project can coexist with reindeer herding. A firm decision is lacking on the future of the controversial infrastructure, however.

    From north to south

    According to data from the International Energy Agency, 98% of Norway’s electricity supply comes from renewable energy. The six wind farms in the Fosen complex produce more energy than all the wind farms built in the rest of the country combined.

    Although Fosen’s turbines are the work of a multi-company conglomerate with Swiss and German participation, 52% of the investment remains in the hands of Norway’s Statkraft.

    Responding to questions posed by IPS, Statkraft stressed that the Supreme Court ruling “does not mean that the licenses for the wind farms have lapsed and it did not conclude what should happen to the turbines.”

    The operation of the Fosen wind farm, the company adds, “can be maintained without irreparable damage to reindeer husbandry as long as there is an ongoing process to clarify the necessary mitigation measures necessary for a new licensing decision that does not violate the rights of the Sami.”

    The company claims it is “working actively to contribute to reaching a solution that enables the Sami people to continue their cultural practice in line with international law.”

    On its website, Statkraft claims to be “Europe’s largest renewable energy producer and a global company in energy market operations.” Their figures point to 5,300 workers in 21 countries.

    Complaints and legal rulings against the Norwegian energy giant have also come from other continents.

    On February 23, Chilean police violently repressed a demonstration against the Los Lagos power plant project Statkraft is building on the banks of the Pilmaiken River, 370 kilometers south of Santiago de Chile.

    “It is a place of great importance for the Mapuche people with a ceremonial complex and a cemetery. According to ancient beliefs, the Pilmaiken river is where souls travel after they die so that they can continue their cycle,” Fennix Delgado, a 35-year-old construction worker active in the Pilmaiken support network told IPS by phone.

    All across Sápmi

    “Both in Chile and in Norway we are witnessing the plundering of indigenous ancestral territory without the consent of the affected communities or any respect for their cultural realities.”

    That´s the take of Eva María Fjellheim, a member of the work team of the Sami Council — its largest civil society organization. She spoke to IPS by phone from Tromso, 1,100 kilometres north of Oslo.

    “Although the Sami Council supports efforts to combat the climate and ecological crisis, these cannot be implemented at the cost of fundamental rights,” explains 38-year-old Fjellheim.

    She combines her work for the council with her research for his PhD at Norway’s Arctic University on “green colonialism” and Sami resistance to the development of wind power on pasture lands.

    Ancestral knowledge and practices of indigenous peoples, she believes, “could be considered as part of the solution and not as an obstacle.”

    The researcher also points out that, in addition to Norway, Sweden, Finland and Russia are promoting similar wind projects across Sami territory.

    “The Nordic countries tend to defend their image as leaders in terms of respect for rights and sustainability, but their reaction to the Supreme Court ruling on the Fosen case is the latest proof of very much the opposite,” says Fjellheim.

    “It’s as if human rights violations only occurred in other regions, and not in a democratic welfare state like Norway.”

    © Inter Press Service (2023) — All Rights ReservedOriginal source: Inter Press Service

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  • “An Israeli Senior Minister Asked Me To Commit Hate Crimes”

    “An Israeli Senior Minister Asked Me To Commit Hate Crimes”

    Gilad Sade, in white, with Itamar Ben Gvir, to his left, during Gvir’s visit with alleged recruits during a trial in 2004. All the minors were convicted. Credit: Ilan Mizrahi.
    • by Karlos Zurutuza (rome)
    • Inter Press Service

    “I was first jailed at thirteen and would go back to prison many times. During those years, Itamar Ben Gvir and I were thick and thin,” Sade tells IPS from Rome, Italy.

    Itamar Ben Gvir is Israel´s newly appointed Minister of National Security.

    His party, Jewish Power, won six seats in the November 2022 legislative elections. Today, it forms a far-right government considered the most extremist in the country’s history, led by Benjamin Netanyahu.

    Raised in a family of secular Jewish immigrants from Iraq, Ben Gvir, 47, joined the Kach movement —an ultra-Orthodox organization designated as a terrorist group in the nineties by Israel, the US, the European Union, Canada and Japan— as a teenager. In 1995 he became famous for threatening then-Prime Minister Isaac Rabin three weeks before he was assassinated.

    “When he first moved out of his family house, he hung a photo of Barouch Goldstein in his new residence in Kiryat Arba,110 kilometres southeast of Tel Aviv,” recalls Sade. Also known as the “Butcher of Hebron,” Goldstein was a medical doctor from New York who murdered 29 Palestinians with an assault rifle in 1994.

    Sade recalls that, as a child, he was often in the care of Ben Gvir. He was in primary school when he received his first assignment.

    “We used to distribute leaflets calling for the expulsion of the Arabs from Israel or the demolition of the al Aqsa Mosque. Ben Gvir asked me to hide them under my shirt. As a child, the police would not search me.”

    At the age of 14, Ben Gvir asked him to bring a ski mask and handed him a wire cutter to break into the United Nations compound in Jerusalem to vandalize UN cars and spray anti-UN graffiti on walls.

    “He would never take risks. I could easily get in trouble or even get killed while he waited in his car listening to Hasidic music,” says Sade

    Ben Gvir, he explains, recruited young people from broken families. “He boasted that he kept them away from the streets and drugs but actually paid them cash to commit these kinds of crimes. The boys sought the approval of the group by spitting on the Palestinians, pushing them to the ground, pepper-spraying them,” he recalls.

    Contrary to what one might think, Sade says that there was no room for improvisation. “They trained us to deal with all sorts of situations: from occupying the home of a Palestinian family to handle a police interrogation,” explains Sade.

    In an interview with Israel’s Channel 7, Ben Gvir said he had been arrested “hundreds of times” — the first time at 14 —and bragged about having been accused “in only just eight occasions.” At 18, his criminal record exempted him from military service.

    Before launching his political career, he was convicted for “incitement to racism and support of terror,” by calling for the expulsion of Arabs from Israel.

    “Today he has moderated his speech, at least in public, in order to reach parliament. But everyone knows that he is still the same racist influencer he´s always been,” says Sade.

    Sade quit the extremist movement at 21.

    “It was a very long and painful process to be able to overcome, among other things, the hatred towards myself for the damage inflicted,” he admits. He also regrets that many of his former colleagues “did not manage to break the walls of that mental prison.”

    Sade would become an adventure travel guide, and his fondness for photography would open the doors to journalism. As a freelance reporter working for both Israeli and international media, he works in places like Nagorno Karabakh and Kosovo. However, part of his job has focused on exposing those who, he insists, ruined his life and the lives of hundreds of young people.

    But the price to pay was exile. The frequent target of threats, he cannot return to Israel. Especially today, when those who were his mentors are in power.

    Itamar ben Gvir ‘s spokesman declined to answer to questions forwarded by IPS. He told this news agency that any accusation of hate crimes against the minister is “not serious” and “just jihadist propaganda.”

    Domination

    Last November, weeks before the new government was formed, Palestinian Authority officials warned that Itamar Ben Gvir´s appointment could have a “potentially catastrophic impact.”

    Their concern appears to have been well-founded. In a report released by Amnesty International on February 1, the London-based NGO denounced the death of 35 Palestinians at the hands of Israeli forces during January alone.

    “The killings help sustain the Israeli apartheid regime and constitute crimes against humanity as well as other measures such as administrative detention or forced displacement,” the Amnesty report said.

    On January 27, seven people were killed in a synagogue and a dozen seriously injured in two attacks on Jewish settlements in East Jerusalem. Two weeks later, two Israelis were killed, including one child, in an intentional car-ram attack in Jerusalem.

    The recent violence under the new administration continues a worrying trend. In its World Report 2023, Human Right Watch points to “a policy to maintain the domination of Jewish Israelis over Palestinians” under a new government which, the New York based NGO underlines, “includes Itamar Ben-Gvir, who has been convicted by an Israeli court for incitement to racism and support of a terrorist organization.”

    For Alberto Spectorowsky, an Uruguayan-Israeli citizen and professor of Political Science at Tel Aviv University, the current climate of violence in the country is related to corruption charges against the prime minister.

    “There is a conflict unleashed between those who defend a democracy with liberal institutions and those who want to take away the power and independence of the Court of Justice,” Spectorowsky told IPS from Tel Aviv over the phone.

    The current prime minister was sworn into office immersed in an open process for bribery, fraud and breach of trust. “Without this pending trial, Netanyahu would be another defender of liberal democracy,” claims the political scientist.

    As for Ben Gvir, Spectorowsky points to “an open scenario”:

    “Netanyahu has no interest in setting the Middle East on fire, and that is why he tries to contain Ben Gvir. However, the latter announced that he will leave the coalition if they take away his authority,” the expert underlines.

    In an interview given to Israeli Channel 12, on February 4, the senior minister gave the government a period of three months to implement measures such as the death penalty for terrorists or the creation of a security body made up of armed civilians.

    “As long as I continue to have influence, I will not overthrow the government,” said Ben Gvir. His most recent measure has been to increase by 400% the number of weapons permits that can be granted monthly.

    Sade believes Ben Gvir is seeking to create his own armed militia.

    “Now he wants to arm everyone to contain these attacks, which, however, have increased since he took office,” he adds. “What could you possibly expect from a country whose National Security minister asked me and others to commit hate crimes?”

    Israel has become a trap, he says, “not only for the Palestinians, but also for anyone who thinks differently.”

    © Inter Press Service (2023) — All Rights ReservedOriginal source: Inter Press Service

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  • Turkey’s Shaky Foundations

    Turkey’s Shaky Foundations

    A week after the earthquake that shook Turkey and Syria, cleaning up works continue in Adiyaman, in Turkey´s south-east. Credit: Lara Villlalón.
    • by Karlos Zurutuza (rome)
    • Inter Press Service

    The earthquake’s epicentre lies in a chasm that has been widening since World War I (1914-1918), when the Kurdish people were left stateless. Over 40 million Kurds remain spread across the borders of Iran, Turkey, Syria and Iraq.

    Half of them live in the southeastern region of Turkey. It is not by chance that the broken North-South socioeconomic divide in Anatolia actually shows itself from west to east.

    Tour operators offer two main tourist packages: touring the west of the country in clockwise or anti-clockwise directions.

    The east is never an option, even if you miss the astonishing Neolithic archaeological site of Gobekli, or the source of the Tigris and Euphrates, among other treasures.

    Actually, “Kurdistan” has always been a taboo word for the Turkish national narrative, which favours euphemisms such as “the southeast” to refer to that part of the country. After all, what name can be given to what doesn’t even exist?

    For decades there was no talk of Kurds, but of “mountain Turks.” Their language, Kurmanji, still has not reached newspapers or schools. There is indeed a television channel in Kurdish – there are around fifty in neighbouring Iraq – but it is government funded. Accordingly, there´s no deviation from the official discourse.

    Without leaving the epicentre of the earthquake, the city of Kahramanmaras owes its name to the Turkification of its original Maras (of disputed origin) to which is added the Turkish Kahraman, “hero”. Also, better not look for “Amed” on maps when trying to get to Diyarbakir, Turkey’s main Kurdish city.

    These are just two of the thousands of examples that speak of this drive to erase all “foreign” traces from the maps. The next step is to do it physically. The city of Hasankeyf, a 12,000-year-old archaeological treasure once protected by UNESCO, was completely flooded in 2020.

    Today, Hasankey lies out of reach under a network of dams through which the water supply from the Tigris and the Eufrates to Syria and Iraq is often cut off.

    The most modern cities are not spared either. In the 1980s and 1990s, thousands of Kurdish towns were burned down by the Turkish Army in the war against the Kurdish guerrillas of the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK).

    In the wake of the umpteenth military operation launched by Ankara in 2015 and 2016, the rubble in several of them was reminiscent of that of the last earthquake. Once again, the civilians then took the worst part.

    “You are not Kurdish, you are Armenian and we are going to do the same we did to you a hundred years ago,” this reporter heard a Turkish police officer shout over a loudspeaker during the curfew enforced on the Kurdish city of Cizre, in September 2015.

    Two earthquakes (in 1912 and 1914) announced what was to become the first genocide of the 20th century, when more than a million and a half Armenians were swallowed by that same fault.

    Today, in Turkey there are barely 60,000 castaways from that Eurasian plate, and the waves are still hitting neighbouring Armenia, which remains sandwiched between two Turkic states (the second one is Azerbaijan).

    “How happy is the one who says I am a Turk,” read murals across Turkey, paraphrasing Kemal Ataturk, the controversial father of the republic. “The homeland is indivisible” is also a recurrent one.

    The cruelest paradox decrees that the country celebrates its first hundred years of existence slit open. Turkish President Recep Tayip Erdo?an has already declared a state of emergency for three months in ten devastated regions.

    The complaints that relief does not arrive pile up, creating an even more precarious situation for over three million Syrian refugees who´ve crossed the border to Turkey since the war started in Syria in 2011.

    The earth has burst under their feet after more than a decade since the war broke out in his country. They are the most direct victims of the Arabian plate, the one governed by autocrats such as Bashar al Assad in Syria, General Abdulfatah al Sissi in Egypt or the satraps of the Persian Gulf.

    They all share with Erdo?an an obsession with perpetuating themselves in power and an exclusive discourse on which to articulate their respective country models.

    More paradoxes in history make Erdo?an come to power in the aftermath of the Izmir earthquake in 1999 -it left more than 17,000 deaths-, and the last one occurred on the eve of decisive elections next May.

    But perhaps the deepest fault is that of democracy.

    After more than two decades in power, Erdo?an had shielded his re-election by disqualifying Ekrem Imamoglu, the mayor of Istanbul and his most direct rival in the opposition Republican People’s Party (CHP).

    He had also outlawed the third political force, the pro-Kurdish Peoples’ Democratic Party (HDP). Their leaders, Selahattin Demirtas and Figen Yüksekda?, have been in prison since 2016.

    “If my mother tongue is shaking the foundations of your state, it probably means that you built your state on my land,” said Musa Anter, a Kurdish journalist and writer assassinated by Turkish intelligence agents in 1992.

    Add to that the brutal jolts of geology, and disaster is served.

    © Inter Press Service (2023) — All Rights ReservedOriginal source: Inter Press Service

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  • The Journalist Stranded in Europe’s "Guantᮡmo"

    The Journalist Stranded in Europe’s "Guantᮡmo"

    Pablo González during a previous trip to Ukraine. Credit: Juan Teixeira/IPS
    • by Karlos Zurutuza (nabarniz, spain)
    • Inter Press Service

    González was arrested on the night of February 27th in Przemysl, a Polish city bordering Ukraine. A journalist specializing in the post-Soviet space, the reporter had worked in Ukraine several times and he was planning to cross the border to cover the Russian invasion of the country launched a few days before.

    Three days after his arrest, the Polish government released a statement that the Internal Security Agency (ABW) had arrested González “on suspicion of having carried out operations for the benefit of Russia, taking advantage of his status as a journalist.”

    “They said they had ‘irrefutable proof’ that he is a spy, but no one has yet seen it. The secrecy around it is overwhelming,” Oihana Goiriena, González’s partner, told IPS from her residence in Nabarniz, in Spain’s Basque Country.

    Following the latest three-month extension granted by the court handling the case, Polish authorities still have not made public the evidence they claim to have against the journalist. His lawyers in Poland are not allowed to speak publicly about the case, there is no date for the trial and not even a formal accusation against González.

    “He has lost a lot of weight, but the worst thing for him is being in solitary confinement, not being able to talk to anyone all day,” explains 47-year-old Goiriena. She was able to visit him on November 21 of last year. A Polish security agent supervised the reunion, for which Goiriena travelled to Poland.

    González is prevented from making telephone calls and has to rely on letters to communicate with the outside world. The letters need to be translated and filtered by Polish security first, however, and replies can take four months. “Two for the letters to reach him and another two to receive his,” says Goiriena. As for her three children, “they have not seen their father in all this time.”

    Goiriena describes the Spanish Government’s response to the case as “tepid.”

    “So far we have only had contact with the Spanish consul in Warsaw, no one else has reassured us or shared any hints,” she says.

    The reason González has been dragged to the Polish cell remains vague, she says. Goiriena believes her partner’s two passports, Russian and Spanish, set off alarm bells in Warsaw.

    The son of a Russian and the grandson of an exile from the Spanish Civil War, Pablo González was born in Moscow in 1982 as Pavel Rubtsov. When his parents split eight years later, the child was left in the custody of his mother -the granddaughter of another Spanish exile- who returned to Spain and registered her school-age son as Pablo, the Spanish translation of Pavel, and under her last name, González.

    Alternatively, Goiriena says her partner’s reporting might have also caught Polish officials’ attention. “Pablo had previously worked a lot in Poland, covering stories such as the anti-government protests, the threats faced by the LGTBI community or the migratory crisis on the Belarusian border, where people were left to die in the cold in the “no man’s” land between both countries,” she says..

    “He is an ‘uncomfortable’ journalist,” for Polish officials, she says. “I think they went too far and now they don’t know how to get out of this.”

    Administrative silence

    A Polish lawyer was hired in April 2022, and Goiriena sought advice from a criminal justice panel in the country last October. González’s primary lawyer since he was arrested, though, has been Gonzalo Boye.

    A Chilean based in Spain for over three decades, Boye is an expert in European International Law who has been involved in several high-profile cases including the March 11, 2004 jihadist bombing of Madrid’s Atocha train station, and Edward Snowden´s whistleblower case, among others.

    Speaking to IPS by phone from Madrid, he said González’s arrest is “unprecedented” within the European Union. “It is an unsustainable case, one of those in which someone is arrested and later investigated.” Boye has not yet been allowed to visit his client.

    “Neither Brussels nor Madrid have lifted a finger, their only answer so far has been silence,” says Boye. Claiming institutional indifference to what he describes as “a kind of Guantánamo within the European Union,” he has already forwarded a protection request to the UN Working Group on Arbitrary Detentions.

    “Europe has sided squarely with Ukraine, and Poland is key in the conflict. Pablo González is just another victim of that war,” argues Boye, in an attempt to find a logic to González´s arrest in Poland.

    Alongside a platform that struggles to make the case visible, several personalities and professionals in communication and law have requested Spain’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Spain for greater involvement in its resolution.

    In a reply to repeated efforts at contact from IPS, Spain’s Ministry of External Affairs stated by email that Spain’s embassy in Warsaw “is up to date on the case and following it closely.”

    The statement says González has been offered an opportunity for consular assistance, and received seven visits, with “the next expected soon.”

    “At all times, the need to respect their rights has been stressed to Polish authorities. In addition, efforts have been made at different levels in relation to his case, conveying the same message,” the ministry said, in its statement.

    The Damages

    The war in Ukraine has turned Poland into a main hub for supplies of all sorts in Ukraine – from basic food items to hit-tech weaponry -, as well as the main exit point for millions of refugees fleeing the war. It is the focal country in a conflict whose consequences are felt globally.

    Poland’s role in the conflict, however, has not prevented the progressive deterioration of its democracy.

    In its 2022 report, the US NGO Freedom House claimed that Poland had the fastest decline in democracy among the 29 countries in Central and Eastern Europe and Central Asia monitored by the organization.

    “I don’t recall a case similar to that of Pablo González in the European Union,” Alfonso Bauluz, the president of Reporters Without Borders in Spain told IPS over the phone from Madrid.

    While he pointed to the “complicated scenario” posed by the war in Ukraine, he also highlighted that Poland is “one of those EU countries that have toughened measures against plurality of information.”

    “For Poland, it´s already been eight years of consecutive decline in the World’s Press Freedom Index we release at RSF,” stresses Bauluz. The eastern European country ranks 66th (just behind Cyprus, Mauritius and Montenegro) on a list of 180 countries.

    On January 10, RSF Spain called again for the “end of the prison cruelty inflicted on Pablo González,” that his presumption of innocence be respected and that “all the guarantees for a fair trial” are met.

    “All I want is a trial as soon as possible, either public or private, but as soon as possible,” says Oihana Goiriena. Although the journalist’s partner is confident that his innocence will finally be proven and he will be released, she also stresses that the damage has already been done:

    “In a few weeks, he will have served a year in prison. In addition, paying lawyers and costs has put us in debt for a long time, not to mention the professional damage it entails for a journalist specializing in the post-Soviet space”.

    © Inter Press Service (2023) — All Rights ReservedOriginal source: Inter Press Service

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  • The Humanitarian Rescue Fleet Faces Hurricane Meloni

    The Humanitarian Rescue Fleet Faces Hurricane Meloni

    Migrants spotted aboard a sinking dinghy boat somewhere off the Libyan coast. Credit: Karlos Zurutuza / IPS
    • by Karlos Zurutuza (barcelona)
    • Inter Press Service

    The response to the humanitarian emergency in the Central Mediterranean is one of the challenges for the new Italian far-right government led by Giorgia Meloni, its prime minister.

    As it happens, a serious diplomatic crisis broke out last November between Rome and Paris after Italy prevented the landing of the SOS Humanity’s ship, the Ocean Viking and diverted it to the port of Toulon, in the south of France.

    About the same time, the Geo Barents (run by MSF) refused to comply with a partial disembarkation order from Rome, which would have allowed only some of the 572 rescued to leave the ship. MSF ended up winning the fight and all those rescued finally got to set foot in Catania (Sicily).

    “The selective disembarkation does not have any regulatory framework. It is nothing more than a new attempt to block the NGOs,” Juan Matías Gil, head of the MSF Search and Rescue mission in Italy, told IPS over the phone.

    However, all those rescued on the 11th landed without facing any further administrative obstacles. Gil cited the recent crisis with France as a possible motivation for the Meloni government finally allowing the ship to dock and let the rescued people disembark.

    The Italian Ministry of the Interior claimed it was the weather, “the imminence of a storm and the need not to saturate the reception centres.” There has been no change whatsoever in Rome’s policies, Italian officials stressed.

    Successive Italian governments have been the Mediterranean rescued fleet’s fiercest adversary since 2017, two years after it went to sea.

    Closed ports, requisitioned ships, judicial processes: Rome has resorted to every tool at its disposal to block a fleet that today has nine ships operated by different NGOs.

    “Under the previous government of Mario Draghi, we already had a glimpse to those policies that Meloni subscribes to today, but there was hardly any talk about it,” recalls Gil, an Argentine today based in Rome. “Back then, we could easily spend up to ten or twelve days waiting until we were granted a safe port.”

    According to UNHCR data updated on December 4, more than 94,000 people arrived in Italy by the sea in 2022. Most departed from Libya, almost always aboard fragile rafts and skiffs run by human traffickers.

    Although international law requires the granting of a safe port as soon as possible to any ship with vulnerable people on board, the rescue fleet faces waits that can exceed two weeks.

    Gil sees it as yet one more ingredient in a campaign against the rescue fleet.

    “On the one hand, there is the use of resources which lack a legal basis, such as selective landing. Making us go to France or Spain means tripling the distances and drastically reducing the time we spend in the rescue zone”, says Gil.

    He also points to the “criminalization” of NGOs by the Italian government. They are often accused of collusion with the trafficking mafias, and even of posing a “pull factor”. However, Gil stresses that the fleet as a whole is only responsible for 14% of the landings in Italy, according to data from the Italian Institute for International Political Studies.

    “What stings in Rome is that we make the problem visible, that’s all,” said Gil.

    “A cheating game”

    That the vast majority of the rescued arrive from Libya results from instability caused by the absence of a stable government since the 2011 war. Rival factions in the east and west are still fighting for control of the country.

    To contain the migratory flow, Europe began training and equipping a Libyan coast guard fleet in 2016. But the force is widely accused of using violence against migrants and being infiltrated by trafficking mafias.

    NGOs say that many of those migrants returned to land end up being victims of human rights abuses in the same Libyan detention centres managed by the two Libyan governments.

    According to International Organization for Migration data, more than 25,000 people have died or disappeared in the Mediterranean since 2014. As the southern border of the European Union turns into a mass grave, the humanitarian rescue fleet faces all kinds of obstacles to avoid more drownings.

    Draconian inspections by the Italian Coast Guard can block ships in port for months. With an old Basque fishing boat converted into a rescue ship, Salvamento Marítimo Humanitario (SMH), a Spanish NGO, knows this first-hand.

    SMH coordinator Iñigo Mijangos spoke to IPS from Vinarós in eastern Spain, where the rescue ship is currently docked.

    “Just missing a fire extinguisher can have an impact on the qualification of the entire Spanish merchant fleet that makes international voyages,” explained the 51-year-old Basque. They undergo inspections by the General Directorate of the Spanish Merchant Marine before leaving port, to prevent problems with Italian officials.

    “As the total calculation is done on a triennial basis, we have postponed our next mission until next January, just after the start of the new year,” Mijangos clarified.

    Italian politicians have on occasion faced consequences for overreach against the fleet. Matteo Salvini, who served as Italy’s Interior Minister between June 2018 and September 2019, currently faces a judicial inquiry into his efforts to block a hundred migrants rescued by Open Arms, a Spanish NGO, from disembarking in Italy. They were forced to stay aboard for 19 days, in apparent violation of Italian and international sea laws.

    Salvini faces 15 years in prison in a process that started in November 2021 but which defence lawyers have so far managed to stonewall. Matteo Piantedosi, formerly Salvini’s right hand, now has his old job, as minister of Interior in the Meloni government.

    From the port of Barcelona, David Lladó, head of the Search and Rescue mission with Open Arms, spoke to IPS while his crew struggle to set sail for the central Mediterranean on December 24.

    “We are counting on the delays in granting us a port, so this time we are carrying food for 30 days and 300 people. We don’t know how long they will have us waiting,” said the 38-year-old sailor.

    Delays can get even longer when rescue operations are carried out in Maltese territorial waters, which are near Libya. Lladó recalls that the government in Valletta rarely allows rescue ships to disembark— the last time was in July 2020. But international sea rescue protocols dictate that they first try the island, before contacting Rome.

    “It’s like a cheating game in which those in charge change the rules as the game progresses,” claims Lladó. “At sea, on land, in court… You never know what will come next, but you can’t just wait in port.”

    © Inter Press Service (2022) — All Rights ReservedOriginal source: Inter Press Service

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  • LGBTI in Iraq: Defending Identity in the Face of Harassment, Stigma and Death

    LGBTI in Iraq: Defending Identity in the Face of Harassment, Stigma and Death

    23-year-old Varin poses next to a mural for queer rights in Sulaymaniyah. It was not long before it was vandalized. Credit Andoni Lubaki/IPS
    • by Karlos Zurutuza (sulaymaniyah, iraq)
    • Inter Press Service

    It could be a trendy cafe in Berlin, Paris or any other European capital, but the sunset call to prayer reminds us that we are in Sulaymaniyah. After Erbil, it’s the second city in the Kurdish Autonomous Region of Iraq.

    We cannot disclose the cafe’s exact coordinates, nor the full name of the person who has brought us here. She is dressed in white -shorts and a T-shirt- and boasts a rainbow bracelet on her left wrist. She asks to be quoted as Kween. “It’s just queen with a k for Kurdish,” she explains. Kween is a trans woman.

    The youngest of five children from a Kurdish family in Diyala, a district in the east of the country, this 33-year-old Kurd admits to IPS that she was “a boring man” for the first 25 years of her life.

    “I learned to block my needs. However, I first dressed as a woman in my mother’s clothes and also put on makeup when I was only five,“ she recalls. In a dress, she adds, “I feel the person I am and the person I have always been.”

    But that freedom mostly enjoyed in solitude has its price. How to forget the beating her older brother gave her when she was first caught, at six; the humiliation and bullying she suffered at school…

    She was almost killed when she was 24. Someone contacted her on the Internet and asked to meet on the outskirts of the city. But they were five individuals, waiting to give her a thrashing. Completely numb from the beatings and covered in mud and blood, Kween still mustered the strength to walk to a local judge’s office.

    “You have two options: either file a complaint and stain your family’s name forever, or simply stop doing what you do,” the magistrate blurted at her. Back home, she could not say what she had gone through or, above all, why. Even today, no one in Diyala knows that Kween is a woman.

    Against all odds, she’s been working for several years with a foreign NGO focusing on the protection of vulnerable groups. Among other projects, she´s working on a list of Kurdish words to talk about the rights of the LGBTI collective that are not offensive.

    An example: Hawragazkhwaz (literally, “someone attracted by members of their own sex”), is, so far, the only inclusive form for “homosexual;” miles away from commonly-used terms that include ideas such as “paedophilia” or “rape”.

    Kween has not yet decided to have surgery or take hormones, but she hasn’t had much time for it either. The work at the NGO and the search for a place in society for the members of the LGBTI community, she says, absorb most of her time.

    “If I have a mission in life, this is it.”

    “Immoral conduct”

    A transgender woman is beaten, burned alive and thrown in a dumpster; assailants torture, then murder a gay man while his partner is forced to watch; a lesbian is stabbed to death while being told to stop her “immoral conduct”.

    These are just three cases among the many included in a Human Rights Watch report on the LGBTI collective in Iraq released in march 2022. Kidnapping, rape, torture and murder of queer people at the hands of armed groups, “often by the state’s security forces,” are also reported.

    “The members of this community live under the constant threat of being captured and killed by the Iraqi police, and under total impunity,” Rasha Younes, an HRW researcher, denounced in the report.

    The images of gay people the Islamic State pushed from rooftops are still fresh in everyone’s minds. Also the ones Doski Azad, a Kurdish trans woman, posted on Instagram before her body was found in a ditch last February. She was murdered by her own brother.

    “I know a lot of people who never go out on the streets,” Varin, a 23-year-old queer activist tells IPS from the same terrace. It was thanks to the Internet that she discovered that, like her, there were people who did not feel identified with any single gender expression.

    The activist works in a swimming pool, but her chemistry studies have opened up a job opportunity for her in Qatar that she does not want to miss.

    “I showed up for the job interview dressed as a demure woman and, of course, with long sleeves so the tattoos wouldn’t show,” she bursts out with a loud laugh.

    Varin points to “around 30 members” within Sulaimaniyah LGBTI community. They meet in cafes like this one. Social networks also make it easier to get to know each other.

    Do they organize protests? No, too dangerous. Actually, the mural that she will choose to pose for our photograph has already been vandalized (it would be completely destroyed a few days later).

    Despite the threats, this Kurdish city has become the safest space in the country for members of the LGBTI community. Many queer people from the south of the country seek refuge in cities like Erbil, the Kurdish capital of Iraq.

    The situation is by no means comparable, but Varin underlines that Erbil is still a very conservative city, “one of those in which time stands still during the month of Ramadan and where you can never let your guard down.”

    Suicidal tendencies

    In April 2021, several young men from Sulaimaniyah were arrested “for being homosexual and for their immoral conduct.” That´s how the leader of the operation labelled it before the press. The Sulaimaniyah Police refused to answer questions from IPS. Nonetheless, harassment seemingly extends to anyone who may dare to show any kind of support.

    Such is the case of Rasan, a local NGO constantly forced to answer to justice for “promoting the LGBTI community.” They are still awaiting trial after the most recent lawsuit, filed by a member of the Kurdish parliament.

    From their office in Sulaimaniyah, Tanya Kamal Darwesh, director of Rasan, assures IPS that their mission is not to promote the LGTBI community but “to raise awareness in society about it.” But even more worrisome, she adds, is that the arrests of members of the collective are still common currency in Iraq´s Kurdish region.

    “Instead of accepting the existence of these people, they insist on criminalizing them: they are accused of prostitution, drug trafficking or whatever else to kick them off the streets,” denounces the human rights activist.

    “All the clans, the parties, the leaders, both religious and political, coincide in their animosity towards the queer collective. They often stick to religious issues to justify violence, or simply they make politics out of it,” rounds up Darwesh.

    Their defenselessness is overwhelming, and the psychological impact of intolerance towards this group translates into cases of depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress and even suicidal tendencies.

    That’s the diagnosis conveyed to IPS via videoconference by a trauma psychologist who prefers not to give her real name for the interview. She has been working with victims of sexual violence and torture in the Middle East for over a decade and she wants to avoid a veto at all costs.

    Other than attacks at almost every level, she also highlights the risk of being “excluded from the labour market, or even from their own families in a region where they play such a key role.”

    After several trips to the region, the specialist has had the chance to meet Varin and Kween in person. “Other than hope to the community, they also offer a space in which to ask questions,” she stresses. “Just by being visibly queer, they’re already showing great courage.”

    © Inter Press Service (2022) — All Rights ReservedOriginal source: Inter Press Service

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  • The Women Who Fight Against the Ayatollahs from the Kurdish Mountains

    The Women Who Fight Against the Ayatollahs from the Kurdish Mountains

    PJAK copresident Zilan Vejin and a fellow fighter somewhere in the Kurdish mountains. Credit: Karlos Zurutuza/IPS
    • by Karlos Zurutuza (iran-iraq border)
    • Inter Press Service

    We are somewhere in the mountains across the border between Iran and Iraq. We cannot give our coordinates, nor can we photograph the guerrilla fighters or any spatial references that may give clues about their location. That’s the deal.

    The PJAK is an organization made up mainly of Kurdish men and women from Iran fighting for the democratization of the country through the lines of “democratic confederalism,” a libertarian-left, culturally progressive ideology and political system defined by Abdullah Öcalan. He is the co-founder and leader of the PKK (Kurdistan Workers’ Party) in prison since 1999 and sentenced to life by the Turkish state.

    Two women in their thirties invite us to take a seat around a table inside a humble mountain hut. One of them is Zilan Vejin, the co-president of PJAK. We ask her about the most pressing issue: the chain of protests in Iran that are challenging the Shia theocracy in power since 1979.

    It was last September 16 when Mahsa Amini , a 22-year-old Iranian Kurdish woman, was beaten to death by the Iranian “morality police” for wearing the Islamic headscarf incorrectly. Since then, thousands of men and women have taken to the streets chanting “Women, Life, Freedom”, a slogan that, Vejin recalls, was coined by her movement during a 2013 meeting.

    “The problem of women’s freedom is an issue whose importance was identified, analyzed and defined by our leadership 40 years ago. Today, all the peoples of Iran are facing it,” the guerrilla fighter tells IPS.

    Several international organizations such as Amnesty International have denounced the difficulties of ethnic minorities -such as Kurds, Baluch or Arabs- in accessing education, employment or housing.

    In addition to socioeconomic discrimination, all women regardless of their ethnicity have seemingly become the target of the theocratic government.

    In its latest report on the country, Human Rights Watch denounced the marginalization of half the population in matters such as marriage, divorce, inheritance and child custody. The lack of options for women in situations such as domestic violence or child marriage is also noted by the NGO.

    Could this civil uprising put an end to all this? The PJAK co-leader is optimistic.

    “This revolt is very different from all those that have occurred in the 43 years that the ayatollahs have spent in power. It started in Kurdistan led by women, and from there it spread throughout the country because it brings together people of all nationalities within Iran,” claims the senior guerrilla fighter.

    The hijab, she stresses, is “the excuse for a revolt that calls for freedom and democracy. People don’t just want reforms without seeking to change the current policies, the system and the administration”.

    On whether the armed struggle can be one of the means to achieve it, Vejin sticks to the right to “legitimate defense”.

    “The armed struggle is only a part of our strength that also includes civil, social and democratic actions. Of course, if the State commits massacres, we will not remain idle,” says the Kurdish woman.

    On the Iranian board

    PJAK militia women are not the only Kurdish women in Iran ready to take up arms. There are women fighting alongside men in the ranks of the PDKI (Democratic Party of Iranian Kurdistan), while the PAK (Kurdistan Freedom Party) even has an all-female contingent.

    The latter’s ultimate goal is the creation of an independent Kurdish state that includes the four parts into which it is currently divided (Turkey, Iran, Iraq and Syria).

    Hana Hussein Yazdanpana, the spokesperson for the PAK women’s contingent, spoke to IPS by telephone from an unspecified location in the mountains. Apparently, their bases in the valley have become a recurring target for Iranian missiles.

    “The last one happened on September 28: we lost ten of ours and 21 were injured. Iran has threatened us with doing it again if we don’t stop supporting the protests and giving shelter to those fleeing the country,” explained Yazdanpana.

    According to her, the PAK has 3,000 Peshmerga (“Those who face death,” in Kurdish) fighters. One-third are women who received training from the American and German contingents, among others, included in the international coalition against the Islamic State.

    They have also fought Tehran-backed Shiite militias operating on Iraqi soil. As to whether they will take advantage of that experience to fight against the ayatollahs, Yazdanpana was blunt.

    “The fight must be peaceful. The protest will only be successful if the free world openly supports the people and takes action against the Islamic Republic.”

    Other than in the Kurdish mountains, the guerrillas can also be found on the Internet. On its website, the Komala Party of Iranian Kurdistan defines itself as “a social democratic party that advocates for a free and democratic federal Iran.”

    With its bases in the southeastern corner of the Kurdish Autonomous Region of Iraq -very close to the border with Iran- Komala claims to be the first Kurdish organization to ever set up a battalion of women fighters, back in 1982.

    “When Komala was founded in 1969 one of its main pillars, besides socialism and Kurdish self-determination, was gender equality,” Zagros Khosravi, a member of its central committee, told IPS over the phone.

    He pointed to a contingent of “a few hundred fighters deployed in the mountains,” but insisted that their main strength lies in the “thousands” that can be mobilized inside Iran. “Many of them have been trained in civil resistance tactics,” noted the guerrilla.

    One of the most recent milestones, he added, was the creation, together with the PDKI, of a cooperation node between Kurdish-Iranian political parties. “You can see the result in the high level of participation of the Kurdish nation in these protests,” he added.

    From the Kurdish Peace Institute, Kamal Chomani, a Kurdish affairs analyst, told IPS over the phone that coordination between the Kurdish-Iranian organizations will be “key” if a potential escalation of violence against the protests leads to an open armed conflict with the regime.

    The differences between the different Kurdish-Iranian organizations, he added, respond to the diversity of the Kurdish political arc as a whole.

    “Whereas in Syria and Turkey the majority of Kurds subscribe to a leftist, progressive and communalist ideology, in Iran and Iraq we come across a nationalist and traditionalist variable in which tribal keys are also crucial,” explained Chomani.

    As to how these actors are deployed on the troubled Iranian chessboard, the expert foresees this scenario:

    “The PJAK is the one with the most experience in guerrilla warfare due to its links with the PKK and they have great organizational capacity. The PDKI, and especially Komala, have strong roots in Iran because they have been very active politically and militarily since the 1970s, and that will allow them to mobilize fighters within the country.”

    Meanwhile, Iranian women continue to take to the streets. According to data from the HRANA news agency -managed by human rights activists-an estimated 300 have been killed since the protests began. The number of detainees now exceeds 13,000.

    © Inter Press Service (2022) — All Rights ReservedOriginal source: Inter Press Service

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