Originally published on Global Voices

Green Line app operators on duty, taking calls about environmental crimes in the Dominican Republic. Photo courtesy of the Ministry of Environment of the Dominican Republic, sent to Raíz Climática, used with permission.

This article by Carolina Pichardo and Jesús Gómez first appeared in Raíz Climática on October 30, 2025, in Spanish. An edited version is republished on Global Voices with permission.

When we think of justice, we often picture courts dealing with corruption, theft, and homicide cases, but we rarely consider that those who cut down trees, pollute waterways, or traffic in endangered species are also prosecuted. According to Jhonnatan Manuel Cabrera, head of the Office of Access to Public Information of the Dominican Republic’s Judicial Branch, as of September of this year, 118 cases have been brought to justice for violations of Law 64-00 on Environment and Natural Resources.

This is where a network of three institutions, both state and judicial, comes into play. Their functions, although different, are linked by the common denominator of environmental protection and complement one another in the pursuit of environmental crimes. These crimes, although increasingly frequent, are also being reported more frequently thanks to increased environmental awareness.

What is an environmental crime?

According to the DR’s Article 175 of Law 64-00 of the Ministry of Environment, anyone who “damages the national system of protected areas, cuts or destroys trees in protected forest areas and in fragile zones; who hunts, captures or causes the death of species declared to be in danger of extinction or legally protected; who uses explosives, poisons, traps or other instruments or devices against species; who pours toxic and dangerous substances into bodies of water, releases them into the air or deposits them in places not authorised for this purpose, or in authorised places without permission or clandestinely” is committing an environmental crime.

The country’s Ministry of the Environment is not working alone in this fight; it manages the Green Line app, the main channel for citizen communication and reporting of illegal activities that harm the environment. In the same vein, the National Environmental Protection Service (SENPA), a specialised body within the Ministry of Defense, coordinates joint operations with the Ministry of the Environment and the Specialised Prosecutor’s Office for Environmental Protection. This alliance allows the unit to act with legitimacy, legal rigor, and institutional support.

Magistrate Francisco Contreras Núñez, who heads the Environmental Prosecutor’s Office, the National Environmental Protection Service and the Green Line all agree that the most common environmental crimes are indiscriminate logging, noise pollution, hunting, fishing, and trafficking/commercialisation of protected and endangered species; extraction of aggregates without the proper permits, mainly along riverbanks, pollution of rivers, burning of protected areas that often leads to forest fires, the manufacture of charcoal and illegal construction of infrastructure and transport of material without the corresponding environmental permits.

In the five-and-a-half years spanning 2020 to September 2025, as detailed in the request signed by SENPA’s Director of Operations Erwin Rommel Vargas González, 9,350 crimes were listed for tree felling and 2,620 for makeshift dumps and water pollution. Between 2023 and mid-2025, the Ministry of Environment seized 63,613 unidentified units of sand, 16,449 sacks of coal, and 416,087 pieces of wood. Additionally, in the first quarter of 2025, 647 pounds of parrotfish — the sale of which is prohibited — were seized, as well as 40 pounds of other fish. Official sources confirmed that as of September 22, SENPA had led at least 165,514 environmental operations between 2020 and mid-2025, with 2024 being a bumper year that accounted for 22 percent of the total.

In the first six months of 2025, there were roughly 10,940 security and control patrols, and 1,161 vehicles were seized. The materials they contained — wood, coal, tools, and the vehicles themselves — were handed over to the appropriate authorities for evaluation, legal disposal, or reuse in institutional programmes, with everything being documented transparently and in accordance with the law. Noise pollution is also considered an environmental crime.

Green Line, meanwhile, indicated that the largest number of environmental complaints came from the National District, Santo Domingo, Santiago, Dajabón, and La Altagracia.

The Ministry of the Environment’s Directorate of Social Participation shared that in 2023, the main environmental complaint was for air pollution, with 664 cases. In 202, the trend was repeated, this time with 576 complaints. However, as of October 15, 2025, the most frequently reported type of offence nationwide was solid waste pollution from farms — pigsties, chicken coops — with 308 cases. Green Line attributes these figures to the growth of unregulated agricultural activities, especially in rural areas where livestock farming exists without adequate waste management systems.

The expansion of agricultural and urban settlements also puts pressure on forested areas — people log for land use or firewood, and the lack of emissions control from workshops, ovens, and small industries increases the number of complaints about air pollution. There is also “a sustained trend in reports of illegal logging and air pollution, the latter mainly associated with the operation of power plants, industrial chimneys and informal workshops, which reflects a greater public awareness of deforestation and air quality issues,” according to Green Line.

What happens when an environmental complaint is filed?

Green Line allows citizens to report any environmental crime directly and accessibly, thus promoting their participation in the conservation, protection and improvement of the environment and natural resources. By connecting citizens with the state system that manages these illegal activities, it strengthens collaboration in defence of the DR’s natural heritage. Head office-based app operators have liaisons in provincial offices across the country, who are responsible for receiving complaints in person, by phone, via WhatsApp, and from Green Line’s webpage and social media accounts.

These liaisons coordinate with technicians in the provinces, who then conduct surveys and follow up on complaints within their respective areas. Each complaint takes anywhere from 10–15 business days to be processed, which is also the timeframe for the initial site visit. Timeframes vary, however, depending on the type of complaint and whether it requires further investigation.

Citizens often provide their name and contact information, but they also have the option of keeping their complaint confidential. The app allows users to submit completely anonymous reports and check their status using a unique code. In situations involving conflicts that directly affect the complainant, the ministry aims to establish contact in a controlled and respectful manner. Once a violation is confirmed, a report of the findings is sent to the Directorate of Inspection as a complex case, to which the corresponding sanctions are applied in accordance with current regulations.

In certain cases, like smoke emissions from power plants or other specified illegal activities, a period for readjustment is granted. Once this deadline has passed, a new inspection is carried out to verify that the indicated measures have been implemented within the established timeframe. If compliance is confirmed, the case is closed; otherwise, the corresponding sanctions are applied and the process comes to an end.

Success stories

On July 7, 2025, community organisations and concerned citizens publicly denounced the alleged systematic destruction of sea turtle nests and endangered species, attributed to the operations of the Hotel Sirenis and the Matute Hotel Group, in the tourist area of ​​Uvero Alto in La Altagracia.

The hotel allegedly used heavy machinery to collect sargassum on the beach shore without proper authorisation from the environmental authorities, causing the destruction of sea turtle nests, including the Hawksbill species, by crushing the buried eggs. Their actions also caused irreversible damage to the coastal ecosystem, affecting the fauna and natural dynamics of the beach, as well as posing a risk to the environmental balance of the coast through the extraction and displacement of sand, which aggravates erosion.

The Environmental Law, as well as the technical provisions issued by the Vice Ministry of Coastal and Marine Resources, prohibit the use of heavy machinery within the high tide zone. They also stipulate that sargassum collection must be carried out only with specialised equipment, and strictly regulate the schedules, methodologies and areas of intervention in sensitive areas. The actions of the hotel were further compounded by the absence of an accredited environmental manager, which represented a direct threat to the integrity of coastal and marine ecosystems.

Green Line recommended the initiation of an administrative sanction process according to the seriousness of the facts verified; the stoppage of activities until a coastal environmental remediation plan was presented, and — because of the impact on areas of high ecological vulnerability — due process for the restoration of the affected area was exhausted, and the case referred to the Vice Ministry of Coastal and Marine Resources and the Directorate of Biodiversity.

In another case, the trade and possession of parrotfish and conch in a closed period was reported in a restaurant called Pescadería L&R. A technical commission from the Environment Department went to the site on September 3, where they verified that both species were being sold in violation of Decrees 281-23 and 266-25 — 28 pounds of parrotfish and 15 pounds of conch were seized, commercial activities were halted, and the establishment temporarily closed. The case was referred to the Specialised Prosecutor’s Office for due judicial processing, and the report sent to the ministry’s legal directorate.

Another incident, which happened in February 2025, involved environmental pollution in the Río Verde after someone was caught dumping contaminated water into the river. According to the community report, the individual fled the scene after being confronted by local residents. During the inspection, the technical team discovered a pig farm with a total population of 1,154 fattening pigs without the presence of mothers or sires, as its production model was established exclusively for fattening. The enterprise was located in a building constructed with blocks, cyclone mesh and wood, with a zinc roof. Hygiene was poor because of the presence of internal puddles and waste accumulation.

While they also noticed a biodigester system with an approximate area of ​​290 m², intended for wastewater and excreta management, multiple signs of inoperability were identified, including broken pipes, the biodigester’s perforated plastic dome, the methane burner turned off, and the accumulation of solid matter in the outlet pipe. The biodigester was only receiving wastewater from the front building; the rear was discharging its water through a channel directly onto the adjacent land, which borders the course of the river.

This combination of poor wastewater management and inadequate handling of pig waste created unsanitary conditions and polluted discharge into the river. This is in violation of Article 82 of the DR’s Environmental Law, which “prohibits the dumping of polluting substances or waste into soils, rivers, lakes, lagoons, streams, reservoirs, the sea and any other body or course of water.” To make matters worse, the pig farm did not have valid environmental authorisation, in violation of Article 40 of the same law, which requires prior environmental approval for operations with potential ecological impact.

Green Line’s recommendations included immediately halting the discharge of the farm’s wastewater into the Río Verde or any other water source; applying an administrative sanction proportional to the damage caused to the river, soil, and subsoil; granting a period of 30 working days for the comprehensive correction of the excreta management system and the proper treatment of wastewater and constructing a rainwater channeling system that prevents it mixing with contaminated or untreated water.

Mechanisms used to deal with environmental crimes

SENPA, which has 305 active agents spread across 12 operational regions, is trained in environmental legislation, human rights, patrolling techniques, first aid, wildlife and flora management, use of surveillance technologies, report writing, and proportional use of force.

The agency’s mission is to protect the country’s environment and natural resources through the monitoring, prevention and prosecution of environmental crimes, to guarantee compliance with the law and maintain the ecological well-being of the nation. Environmental crime investigations are conducted through patrols, citizen reports, satellite monitoring, environmental intelligence, and joint operations with other agencies, based on technical evidence, geo-referencing, and legal follow-up.

SENPA also conducts operations to prevent wildlife trafficking, rescues animals in danger of extinction, collaborates with conservation centres, monitors critical habitats, and supports protection campaigns for emblematic species such as the solenodon and the hawksbill turtle. Some of its most outstanding operations have dismantled networks of illegal logging, trafficking of species, and irregular occupations in protected areas.

By employing new technologies like drones, communication radios and mobile applications for environmental monitoring, patrols can be carried out faster, more accurately and more efficiently, but just as technology can be used for good, there are also new mechanisms designed to accommodate the breaking of environmental laws. Drones, for instance, have been used for illegal fishing and in the digital trade of wild species.

When an offender is captured, he is taken into custody, respecting his fundamental rights. After he is placed at the disposal of the Public Prosecutor, the case is documented, and the judicial process begins. As a technical body, SENPA assists with presenting evidence and monitoring the case file. It also operates the National School of Environmental Protection (ENPA), primarily for its own members, but through which it also offers specialised training to staff from other environmental agencies. Its curriculum includes environmental legislation, patrolling techniques, conflict management, ecological education, and environmental training.

SENPA also supports reforestation days, river and beach clean-ups, environmental education in schools, and community awareness campaigns, collaborating with the Ministry of Environment to restore degraded ecosystems. In the first half of the year, they led 40 reforestation days in which 54,440 trees were planted, and 1,399 participants took part. Its volunteer programmes and community brigades, as well as its partnerships with local organisations, allow citizens to get involved in environmental education, reforestation, and participatory monitoring.

Court cases and consequences

According to the Office of Access to Public Information, between 2020 and September 2025 — save for the year 2023, for which there is no recorded data — the Dominican judiciary processed 575 cases for violation of Law 64-00 on Environment and Natural Resources. During the same time period, 219 people were convicted for crimes related to environmental law violations.

The website of the Attorney General’s Office detailed some of these cases. In February 2022, for example, a two-million-peso bond was imposed on Agroforestal Macapi for allegedly removing material and causing forest damage in an area of San José de Ocoa. Four months later, the Sixth Court of Instruction of the National District sentenced two people to a year of suspended imprisonment and a fine of 50,000 pesos for illegally extracting and transporting sand. To compensate for the damage, the defendants had to reforest the Nizao River basin by planting 100 trees of different species within 25 days.

Authorities also ordered the closure of a pig farm for polluting the waters of the Cacique River in Moca. The manager was given a one-year suspended sentence in exchange for planting 1,000 trees and giving talks to the community about environmental pollution.

Other measures include a six-month suspended prison sentence for three men for extracting caliche without an environmental permit. They had to plant 200 trees in the Yaguasa River basin and pay a fine of three minimum wages, totaling 30,000 pesos. For extracting construction aggregates without a permit, another man had to attend 50 talks at the environmental ministry and perform 50 hours of community service.

Not all cases involve the extraction or destruction of trees. Crimes against wildlife have also been reported, like the case of two people in Pedernales trafficking eight baby parrots, deemed a protected species.

One of the country’s most high-profile environmental cases took place in October 2024, when the Environmental Prosecutor’s Office in the province of Espaillat obtained a one-year suspended prison sentence and the payment of 25 million pesos in state compensation by businessman Andrés Avelino Sarante Castillo and his company Endy Agroindustria, for dumping solid waste and contaminated water into the Licey River.

The role of the Environmental Protection Agency

Article 165 of Law 64-00 on the Environment speaks about the creation of the Office of the Attorney for the Defense of the Environment and Natural Resources, derived from the Attorney General's Office , which has among its powers “to exercise the actions and representation of the public interest, as a procedural party, in all those trials for violation of this law and other complementary legal provisions.”

Article 165 of Law 64-00 on the Environment speaks about the creation of the Office of the Attorney for the Defense of the Environment and Natural Resources. Derived from the Attorney General’s Office, it retains the power “to exercise the actions and representation of the public interest, as a procedural party, in all those trials for violation of this law and other complementary legal provisions.” In an interview, Magistrate Contreras Núñez confirmed that the entity comprises 35 members of the public ministry and has 20 offices nationwide.

The Attorney General’s Office collaborates with various stakeholders, such as the Environmental Commission of the Autonomous University of Santo Domingo and the Academy of Sciences, from whom they request technical reports. “In many cases,” Contreras Núñez explained, “we exhaust the alternative solutions established by the Dominican Procedural Code […] in other cases, we reach a settlement; the defendants remain subject to technical and economic obligations.” These often include financial payments and remediation of the affected areas.

On occasion, cases wind up in court, like the case against SAENA Investments for the indiscriminate felling of mangroves in the coastal area of ​​Uvero Alto, and the one against the Villa Palmeras tourism project, which carried out construction within 60 metres of the high tide line.

The office’s triumphs include the prosecution of Las Cuevas del Pomier for illegal extraction of aggregate, and the recovery of Los Haitises National Park and Loma Quita Espuela, both of which were being adversely affected by commercial operations.

Imposed penalties are typically anywhere from six days to three years of imprisonment, while fines range from 25 percent of the minimum wage to 10,000 times the minimum wage. Additional penalties may include the confiscation of materials, revocation of permits, and more. Like SENPA and Green Line, the Attorney General’s Office also receives complaints from communities and citizens, mostly through social networks, via telephone or personal channels. “In cases of personal complaints,” Contreras Núñez said, “citizens go to the different specialised departments; in remote cases, there is staff to attend to them and they are referred to the members of the Public Prosecutor’s Office to begin the investigation processes.” He stressed that all complainants have the support of the Public Prosecutor’s Office as well as the country’s military corps.

System limitations

Although there has been significant progress, there is still room for improvement. The head of the Environmental Protection Agency, for instance, pointed out an urgent need for additional financial and human resources, and suggested the creation of an environmental police force that could carry out preventative measures as well as work with the Public Prosecutor’s Office on environmental crimes.

Stating that the prosecution of environmental crimes must continue to be strengthened, he urged the Attorney General’s Office to create a technical unit composed of professional environmental experts — biologists, surveyors, chemists, geographers, etc. — to prepare technical reports in environmental crime cases, thereby allowing the Public Prosecutor’s Office to bring cases to court more efficiently.

Meanwhile, Green Line plans to strengthen its multi-channel service, ensuring the solid, coordinated and resilient operation of all environmental complaint channels, guaranteeing maximum accessibility and reliability, and ensuring agile and consistent response times.

Naturally, continuous training of staff responsible for handling complaints would improve the quality of service, infusing it with a focus on ethics, transparency and respectful treatment of users. There are also suggestions to make the registration and records system more robust in order to monitor the progress of each environmental complaint and ensure a response within a maximum of 15 days, while keeping the complainant informed of the status.

Raising public awareness through increased communication and education campaigns that promote citizen participation and commitment to environmental protection would also go a long way and quite likely result in more widespread use of Green Line as “an agile, transparent and efficient tool for environmental complaints, promoting active citizen participation and contributing to the conservation and restoration of the environment in the country.”

Originally published on Global Voices

Muslim women wearing burqas in the courtyard of the Shah Mosque, Isfahan, Iran. Photo by LBM1948 on Wikimedia Commons (CC BY-SA 4.0).

Across continents, women face the same struggle under different names. Some are told to cover their faces in the name of morality, others are told to uncover them in the name of freedom. The result is the same. A woman’s right to choose remains in the hands of men and lawmakers rather than her own.

The year 2025 began with Switzerland enforcing its nationwide ban on the burqa. Soon after, Portugal followed, and now Canada has joined the list through Quebec’s expanding secularism laws. The idea behind these bans is often framed as liberation, yet the outcome feels more like restriction. In these societies that call themselves “free,” women are once again being told what they can and cannot wear.

In Quebec, the government has recently reinforced its secularism policy with a new law that prohibits students, teachers, and even volunteers in public schools from covering their faces or wearing religious symbols. While the officials defend this move as necessary for equality and neutrality, it has become an obstacle to education and employment for Muslim women who wear the hijab or niqab. Those who once taught or took care of children are now excluded because they choose to practice their faith.

The policy has spread further into childcare. The government plans to ban religious symbols in daycares, claiming it protects young minds from religious influence. Yet many daycare directors and staff argue the move will worsen staff shortages and push out skilled workers. A teacher wearing a headscarf is not preaching a sermon. She is caring for children. The idea that her clothing threatens neutrality exposes a deeper fear of visible diversity.

Political competition in Quebec has made the issue worse. The Parti Québécois recently vowed to ban religious symbols for elementary school students if elected. The ruling Coalition Avenir Québec party also plans to restrict public prayers. Both sides are pushing minorities towards marginalization and promoting such measures in the race for secularism.

This debate has now centered on the courts. The federal government has questioned the exercise by Quebec to use the “notwithstanding clause” to shield the analysis of Bill 21. Ottawa argues that this clause, used repeatedly, weakens the Canadian Constitution and undermines minority rights. 

Legal experts remain divided. Some call this use of the clause preventive and dangerous; others say it preserves provincial independence. The coming Supreme Court decision will determine not only the limits of religious freedom but also how far governments can go in shaping private choices.

This wave of bans is not limited to Canada or Europe. In some West Asian and South Asian countries, the control works in the opposite direction. In Afghanistan, women are forced by law to wear the burqa. In Iran, they face punishment for removing the hijab. In Saudi Arabia, although some restrictions have eased, women still live under moral policing. Even in places like Syria, Jordan or Egypt, traditional pressures push women to conform. Across borders, the message is consistent. Whether it is forced covering or forced unveiling, women’s bodies remain the battleground of political and cultural agendas.

The contradiction is striking. Western democracies, while condemning religious coercion abroad, impose dress codes of their own. They argue that removing the veil helps integration, but in doing so, they push women further to the margins. A Muslim woman who chooses to wear a headscarf in Paris or Toronto should not have to defend her choice any more than someone choosing not to wear one in Tehran. The heart of freedom is the ability to decide without fear or punishment.

The argument that these bans protect equality is weak. True equality comes from opportunity, not uniformity. Excluding women from classrooms, offices, and daycares because of their dress strips them of economic independence. It also conveys a message that religion and serving the people are not compatible. The more the government controls what individuals believe, the less accommodating society becomes. As history has recorded, when one group starts to lose its freedom, it will become limited in no time.

Most Western leaders promise to champion the rights of women in other countries, yet they do not defend those of their own. The very cries about religious conservatism in West Asia are cheers of the laws, limiting religious expression in Europe and North America. This double standard exposes the political nature of the debate. Religion is not the real threat. Fear of difference is.

What is missing from these debates is the voice of women themselves. Few policymakers ask how women feel about being told what to wear, either in Kabul or in Quebec. For some, the hijab is an act of faith. For others, it is cultural or personal. The right answer is not to remove or enforce it, but to respect the choice behind it. When a woman decides for herself, that is freedom. When others decide for her, that is control.

The challenge today is to protect individual freedom without turning it into another form of dominance. Governments must stop using secularism or religion as tools for social engineering. It is not about a woman covering her face or not, but about whether she will be able to live without being judged and discriminated against.

Freedom should not depend on geography or ideology. It should mean the same in Toronto, Tehran, or Kabul. The real measure of a free society is simple. It is not how women look, but how much control they have over their own lives.

In conclusion, the struggle over the veil has become a mirror reflecting society’s fears and insecurities. Different parts of the world claim to defend with dignity, yet deny women agency in different ways. True liberation will come only when a woman’s appearance is no longer a matter of state policy or public debate. Until then, the world will continue to argue about freedom while denying it in practice.

Originally published on Global Voices

Talia Levitt, ‘50/50,’ 2025. Acrylic on canvas, 91.4 x 121.9 x 3.0 cm (36.0 x 48.0 x 1.2 in). Photo courtesy of the artist.

In her recent exhibition “24/7,” New York-based artist Talia Levitt offers a tender yet technically audacious meditation on the early months of motherhood. Conceived when the boundary between caregiving and studio life dissolved — “I was painting in bed with my daughter,” she has shared — this body of work reflects a life lived in overlapping rhythms of urgency, exhaustion, elation and tenderness. 

Levitt’s works merge lullaby-soft domestic objects with art-historical rigor: pacifiers, baby clothes and childhood jewelry boxes appear alongside fruit, flowers and candles rendered in layered “trompe-l’oeil” and textile-like pattern. Through deeply considered material decisions — scored grids, piped paint mimicking embroidery, sequins and cast acrylic embellishments — she builds visual diaries that honor labor, intimacy and attention while expanding the language of contemporary still life.

A fourth-generation New Yorker, Levitt’s roots in the city are not incidental; they inform both her sensibility and research-based projects. In “Schmatta” (Uffner Liu, 2023), she examined the history of New York’s garment industry — a lineage she connects to through family history and a longstanding interest in textile traditions. Levitt received her BFA from the Rhode Island School of Design in 2011 and her MFA from CUNY Hunter College in 2019, and attended the Skowhegan School of Painting and Sculpture in 2019. Her grounding in drawing, paired with years immersed in New York’s contemporary art scene, shaped her evolving hybrid vocabulary of painting, craft, and illusion.

Talia Levitt, ‘Will My Daughter be a Painter Too?,’ 2025. Acrylic on canvas, 182.9 x 152.4 x 3.0 cm (72.0 x 60.0 x 1.2 in). Photo courtesy of the artist.

Levitt’s practice sits in dialogue with Dutch still life, feminist pattern-and-decoration movements, and craft histories, while posing contemporary questions about perception: “To force the viewer to ask themselves, is this honest or what is honest, is this real or what is real, what am I looking at, and how do I look at it?” she notes. “24/7” will next travel to the K11 Art Foundation in Shanghai, expanding the conversation to new audiences and contexts.

Visually lush, contemplative and narratively grounded, Levitt’s paintings locate harmony within layered chaos — where everyday objects glow with symbolic charge and domesticity becomes monumental. “Motherhood has changed the way I make and the way I see,” she reflects. “My daughter is my teacher.”

In a conversation with Global Voices, Levitt discussed the emotional and material shifts that motherhood sparked, the balance of rigor and play in her trompe-l’oeil technique, the democratizing history of still life, and how caregiving and studio life shape each other in real time.

Excerpts from the interview follow: 

Talia Levitt, ‘Again!,’ 2025. Acrylic on canvas, 182.9 x 152.4 x 3.0 cm (72.0 x 60.0 x 1.2 in). Photo courtesy of the artist.

Omid Memarian (OM): For “24/7,” you emerged out of early motherhood, when studio and domestic life blurred. How do you think this profound experience permanently redefined your visual language?

Talia Levitt (TL): I can’t overstate how profoundly the merging of these worlds, or motherhood as the impetus, has changed the way I make and the way I see. My reference points in terms of imagery have shifted, for example. I have different experiences now to associate with a vast range of symbols. Therefore, changes are made to what is included in the paintings. I consider more deeply who my paintings would be legible to … now that I am watching my daughter learn how to look and discover. She is most drawn to photographic imagery, which serves as a gateway for her to explore illustration and other more abstract images in her books. I get to witness this development firsthand, and it has been truly inspiring.

Because I have created an expectation in my paintings that a variety of different languages will be employed, I can broaden my use of paint and range between realism and abstraction based upon what I’ve been learning through her.  

Talia Levitt, ‘My Body is a Mountain, My Body is Nourishment,’ 2025. Acrylic on canvas, 76.2 x 61.0 x 3.0 cm (30.0 x 24.0 x 1.2 in).

OM: Your interplay of trompe l’oeil illusion and symbolic motifs (Dutch still lifes vs. contemporary objects of childhood) dismantles hierarchies of the elevated and the everyday. Do you see this restructuring as situational or as a long-term reorientation in your practice?

TL: That’s a really interesting phrasing! I actually don’t think of one vs. the other, but rather the same genre and some similar content happening at two different time periods. Still life, even during the Golden Age of Dutch painting, was considered the lowest genre in the European academic hierarchy. Prints of and even original still-life paintings at the time were relatively affordable and accessible. This history has definitely emboldened me to bring a lot of muscle, academic skill, and some cheekiness to my work and to play with this history as well as to contemporarize motifs that were traditionally associated with trompe l’oeil. 

Artist Talia Levitt paints with her newborn resting on her shoulder — a glimpse into the intimate reality behind ‘24/7,’ the body of work shaped in the blur between caregiving and studio practice. Photo courtesy of the artist.

OM: Could you take us through your process step by step — from scored grids to cast acrylic embellishments? What were the breakthroughs that convinced you to make this hybrid of painting, craft, and illusion your primary method?

TL: In 2019, while on residency at Skowhegan [in Maine], I was attempting to paint the screen door of my barn studio. I thought, ‘There has to be a better way of realistically rendering this screen than to paint every tiny line of a grid.” So I took my ruler and a utility knife and began scraping it out of the painting of the door behind the screen. What I discovered was that I could use the paint or absence of paint to represent something extremely convincingly, while also creating the exact physical texture and behavior of the thing I was representing in reality. This opened up a door (pun intended!) to experimenting with and thinking about paint and trompe l’oeil as a genre in ways I had never considered before. 

Step by step – first, imagery is painted directly onto the canvas with brushes. Then a grid is scored into the surface with a utility knife and ruler, and sealed with gloss medium. Then ‘stitching’ is piped out of sandwich bags, and lastly, the painting is embellished with casts, glitter, etc. It sounds very routinized, but there’s actually a lot of improvisation taking place within the described process.

Talia Levitt, ‘Emptied Out my Childhood Jewelry Box For Her and Found my Heart,’ 2025. Acrylic on canvas, 50.8 x 40.6 x 3.0 cm (20.0 x 16.0 x 1.2 in).

OM: Narratives seem central to your work, functioning as diaristic yet universal. How do you think narrative painting — often sidelined in modernist discourse — is reinvigorated in your work, especially in light of contemporary politics and social upheaval?

TL: I need to organize my response by narrative and use of paint. Narratively, I don’t think my experiences are unique, so hopefully, if I bring as much generosity and thoughtfulness to my work as possible, viewers may be able to connect with it. Perhaps this perspective reinvigorates narrative painting, or maybe it has been a strategy adopted by painters in some regard, with every progressive generation?

Materially, I am interested in using the properties of paint to disrupt direct interpretations. To force the viewer to ask themselves, is this honest or what is honest, is this real or what is real, what am I looking at, and how do I look at it? These questions are contemporary. While not necessarily political or social, they do explore themes that I know are both pertinent and universal. 

Talia Levitt and her daughter share a moment of play — a glimpse into the life that fuels her tender, intricate paintings and the world of ‘24/7.’ Photo courtesy of the artist.

OM: Because of what you said, your works invite close looking — the craft detail recalls textile traditions, yet the imagery resonates immediately. How do you think about accessibility in relation to art historical precedents like feminist pattern-and-decoration movements, Dutch still life, or even folk traditions?

TL: I definitely think about the accessibility of these traditions as a history to agitate in terms of craft’s relationship to Art History (capital A) and gender. This is an interest and motive that pairs conveniently with my fixation on and fascination with pattern and labor. I’ve always been attracted to craft, whether it be mosaic, stained glass, or embroidery, because of the extraordinary time involved in making the work, its beauty, history, and applications. 

Learning about how mosaics are made, for instance, and traveling to see ancient examples of the craft employed in situ has motivated my interest in learning to mimic the craft with paint. Hopefully, this will continue to develop. 

Talia Levitt, ‘Emptied Out My Childhood Jewelry Box For Her and Found my Heart,’ 2025. Acrylic on canvas, 50.8 x 40.6 x 3.0 cm (20.0 x 16.0 x 1.2 in). Photo courtesy of the artist.

OM: As both artist and parent, how do you navigate the lived realities of caregiving alongside studio practice? Do you see motherhood as a source of tension, of inspiration — or both?

TL: It has been a real blessing, but also quite challenging, balancing motherhood and painting.

My daughter has been an inspiration to my work in innumerable ways. She is my teacher, showing me how to see and think in a different way. I do feel a lot of guilt being away from her to paint, and that’s been tricky to navigate. I’ve often picked her up from daycare early because of this, and end up painting at night. She’s always at the forefront of my mind. Perhaps this will change over time as she ages. What I can say, though, is that while my production has admittedly decreased a bit, I think my most recent body of work, created for Victoria Miro Projects after her birth, is my strongest to date. 

Talia Levitt, ‘All at Once,’ 2025. Acrylic on canvas, 50.8 x 40.6 x 3.0 cm (20.0 x 16.0 x 1.2 in). Photo courtesy of the artist.

OM: Your phrase “life lived all at once” captures both personal intensity and contemporary chaos. Looking ahead, do you envision continuing with diaristic motifs or moving toward broader social allegories? 

TL: I love this question because it captures what's happening in the studio now — both! I'm best able to explore allegory through personal experience. ‘All at once’ actually came to me as I was trying to capture the democratic surface quality of my work, with the tirelessness of balancing home and studio —both themes in my recent show, ‘24/7.’

Originally published on Global Voices

Graffiti in the subway, underground in Vienna, Austria’s Favoriten district: ‘Solidarity not charity’ and ‘EU disarm!’ Photo by Herzi Pinki on Wikimedia Commons (CC BY-SA 4.0).

Author’s note: I write this piece from a place of proximity. My brother served as an ER doctor in rural, border-adjacent areas of Turkey, giving me (with consent) access to frontline realities and perspectives. I’ve seen how a missed meal can become a missed school day, which can lead to a tense night shift for someone at the ER. Through my brother’s work and my studies in international relations and politics, I’ve spoken with teachers, municipal officers, shopkeepers, and families caught between broken systems and survival. I don’t offer easy answers; I offer observed connections between food security, healthcare, education, and policy. This is a call for solidarity across borders and time, because what happens in Van or along Turkey’s margins reflects struggles everywhere. Understanding how systems fail or succeed in one place teaches us how to show up for one another in all places.

A baby’s fragile body leans against her mother’s shoulder, lips parched and cracked like the dry earth. The watered-down bottle in the bag is a desperate attempt to turn poverty into survival. The infant’s faint cry cuts deeper than any scream. With each new disaster, the growling stomachs, the paychecks sacrificed, and the buses that never arrive, the crisis escalates with brutal intensity. By the time they reach the triage desk, exhausted and depleted, they’re no longer just statistics; they’re real people bleeding into our weekend, into our lives.

Elsewhere is an illusion. We’re fooled into thinking humanitarian issues are confined to a separate world called “overseas,” and safety belongs to a different world called “home.” But the truth is, these two worlds bleed into each other. I’m not suggesting that we should only care about aid because it keeps us safe. I’m saying we need to face the reality that our world is connected. When people’s basic needs are met before crises erupt, our communities stay peaceful, not because we police more, but because fewer people are pushed into making desperate choices.

How do shocks travel? Here are three ways: First, supply chains. Drought, blockade, or harvest failure in one region shows up as price spikes in another. A bread line there becomes a grocery bill here. Second, they spread quickly through timelines and algorithms. Outrage travels faster than context. Disinformation finds people who are already tired, anxious, and angry, whether in Gaziantep or Glasgow. Third, routes of human movement. When safe, legal paths are choked off, people don’t stop moving; they move in more dangerous ways, empowering smugglers and organized crime. 

None of this is abstract if you are a teacher, a nurse, or a shopkeeper. It shows up in attendance, waiting rooms, and receipts. Investing in basic needs upfront brings a safety dividend, not surveillance. By providing school meals, we get kids back in classrooms, not on the streets. Cash support stabilizes monthly expenses, shutting out loan sharks. When municipalities work together across borders, both neighborhoods brave the cold with fewer crises. This isn’t preaching on generosity; it’s a clear-eyed look at how the system works.

So, what actually helps? Knowing that this issue exists entitles us to take action. By spreading awareness and holding leaders accountable, we can shape policy and create meaningful change. It’s not about grand gestures but rather small, collective actions: a social media post, a brief message to a representative, or a small donation to support a worthy cause. Most importantly, we must remember that the individuals affected are human beings, not just numbers. Only when they are safe can we truly experience harmony. This may not fit a catchy slogan, but it’s a doable, actual goal.

Today, with AI and surveillance on the rise, national borders gaining importance, and leaders emerging who only consider themselves, we must think of one another. We can’t afford to give away our solidarity, not even for a second. This is the time when we’re more connected than ever with people across the oceans. We have to stand together, or one day, we’ll face crises we never thought possible in our lifetime. Our dignity, humanity, values, and families are all at stake. We must shout for people’s rights globally. We are one, and we just need to remember that.

I head back to the ER, where two drowsy brothers wait. The room smells of damp ash from the stove they moved inside when the cold snap hit, and their bill skyrocketed. Oxygen revives them, clearing the haze from their eyes. A safer heater and winter assistance could have kept them safe and warm at home. When we ignore the struggles of others, preventable problems turn into costly emergencies. It’s not about panicking or feeling sorry; it’s about staying alert and spotting the connections between a late-night tweet in London, a bread line in northern Syria, and a packed triage room in eastern Turkey — connections rooted in supply chains, timelines, and policies that we can actually change.

We need clarity, not charity or fear. Solidarity, not sympathy. So, when spring arrives next year, more of us can walk the streets with serenity.

Originally published on Global Voices

Image made via CanvaPro.

This article is part of the “Information abundance in Southeast Asia” project by Australian National University. Irma Garnesia is a research assistant working on the Indonesian part.

In Indonesia, female journalists and activists face relentless digital attacks. Many women report harassment from political “buzzers” (paid online propagandists) and “wibu” (obsessive anime fans), to K-pop fandoms and people with opposing political views. Journalists, editors, activists, lawyers, and digital rights advocates explain how this violence has unfolded over the last five years and why the violence remains a widespread problem.

Bunga (a pseudonym) never expected that her presentation at a Japanese cultural festival would make her a target. Her talk explored how Japanese comics often depict women in demeaning ways and how these portrayals reflect Japan’s patriarchal norms. But then, her presentation went viral on social media, and anime fans flooded her social media, accusing her of being a “hardcore feminist” who misunderstood Japanese culture.

Soon, her personal information spread online. Her identity as a women’s magazine journalist was doxed, her photos were circulated and edited on Discord groups. “The attacks didn’t just criticize my work,” she recalled. “They came after me as a person.”

The harassment left her traumatized and fearful of being recognized in public. “What if they stab me on public transportation?” she half-joked, though the anxiety behind her words was real.

Bunga’s experience is far from isolated. Kania, a freelance journalist and activist, frequently faces online harassment from political buzzers of former Indonesian President Joko Widodo. Pipit was attacked by people online after criticizing Indonesia’s national health insurance agency. Meanwhile, Nala, a fact-checker, was targeted by anti-vaccine groups within Indonesia.

These cases reveal a pattern of gendered digital violence where professional criticism was blurred by personal attacks rooted in misogyny.

The hidden scale of abuse

Much of this violence remains invisible. A 2021 survey by the think tank PR2Media, which involved 1,256 female journalists, found that 85.7 percent had experienced some form of violence, and 70.1 percent said it occurred both online and offline.

The Southeast Asia Freedom of Expression Network (SAFEnet) has documented the types of digital violence that predominantly target female journalists and activists. It can include doxing, gender or sexuality outing, online surveillance, photo manipulation, account hacking, DDoS attacks, where users intentionally overwhelm a server to bring down a site, and persistent online harassment.

These victims describe not only the attacks, but also how their colleagues or editors often blamed them for being “too reactive” or “too emotional” on social media. As they said, institutional protection was minimal.

“They simply told me to stay off social media for a while,” said Bunga. Yet her harassment had already spread across every platform she used.

Institutions on the defensive

However, it is not that institutions do not want to protect their workers. Even media organizations that champion gender equality are not immune. Magdalene, an online publication focused on women’s rights and diversity in Indonesia, faces daily online backlash and, in May 2020, suffered a massive DDoS attack that took down its website.

According to Managing Editor Purnama Ayu Rizky, the newsroom is still developing safety protocols for field reporting, though they already have protocols for digital safety. “We coordinate with groups like the Alliance of Independent Journalists (AJI) and the Press Legal Aid Institute (LBH Pers) if we face backlash related to our reports.”

Human rights groups like KONTRAS, which handle cases of impunity and state violence, face similar intimidation, from digital surveillance to anonymous harassment. Vebrina Monicha, who works in the Legal Division of KONTRAS, explained that exposure to such pressure has led some staff to normalize it.

Many institutions in Indonesia prioritized reactive responses over long-term protective measures, even after five years of sustained digital attacks. More than that, digital violence is becoming normalized, and digital security among journalists and activists often depends on outside organizations like AJI, LBH Pers, or SAFEnet.

Fragmented legal frameworks

According to Siti Aminah Tardi, Executive Director of the Indonesia Legal Resource Center and former commissioner at the National Commission on Violence Against Women (Komnas Perempuan), violence against women increasingly blends online and offline elements. “The [COVID-19] pandemic shifted how abuse operates,” she explained. “Perpetrators and victims may never meet in person, yet the harm is deeply real.”

Komnas Perempuan’s 2024 CATAHU report recorded 330,097 cases of gender-based violence against women, up 14 percent from the previous year. However, this data is likely lower than the actual representation. “This is the tip of the iceberg,” said Bahrul Fuad, the current commissioner of Komnas Perempuan.

Indonesia has introduced several laws addressing digital and gender-based violence, yet the enforcement remains weak. The country passed The Sexual Violence Crime Act (TPKS Law) in 2022. The law formally recognizes Electronic-Based Sexual Violence (KBSE), including non-consensual sharing of sexual content and digital stalking. The law also guarantees victims’ rights to erase online traces, though implementation has stalled.

Meanwhile, the Personal Data Protection Law (PDP), intended to safeguard privacy, still fails to treat women’s bodies and images as personal data. Siti Tardi mentioned that when the PDP was being drafted, digital violence, such as deepfakes, artificial photos or videos where a person’s likeness is superimposed upon fake content, was not widely known. Although Komnas itself continued to advocate for women’s bodies to be considered personal data, this was not accommodated.

The older Electronic Information and Transactions Law (ITE) remains problematic, as it focuses on information transmission rather than victim protection and the violence itself. “Law enforcement often refuses to use the TPKS Law,” Siti explained, “arguing, what if the distribution was consensual. But how can we know that once the image is already out there?”

Siti also noted that a long-promised government mechanism for removing harmful content still does not exist. “The key feature of online violence is speed,” she said. “Without rapid response, victims are left exposed.”

Platforms that remain unaccountable

Because digital violence unfolds online, tech platforms play a central role, yet their accountability remains elusive. According to SAFEnet’s executive director, Nenden S. Arum, global tech companies often “wash their hands” of responsibility, outsourcing safety work to civil society groups. “Reporting mechanisms are slow and ineffective,” she said. This is dangerous, as the content is still spreading while the moderation could take time.

Platform moderation also reflects global politics. After Donald Trump’s latest accession to office, companies like Meta and Twitter (now X) loosened moderation rules in the name of “free speech.” Nenden argued this shift has emboldened online harassment worldwide.

For Southeast Asia, the problem is even deeper. The platform may have a lack of cultural understanding of the region. Many moderation teams fail to grasp how Southeast Asian women experience shame, modesty, and exposure differently. “Look, I wear a headscarf,” said Siti Tardi. “When someone edited my picture of not wearing a hijab, it felt like being stripped naked.”

Yuri Muktia from the Civil Society Coalition Against Sexual Violence (KOMPAKS) described months of unsuccessful attempts to remove doxing content from Instagram. “Meta said there wasn’t enough evidence,” she recalled. “Even after multiple reports, the posts stayed up.”

KOMPAKS and SAFEnet continue meeting with platform representatives, urging them to adopt faster, culturally aware moderation systems, yet progress remains slow. “Platform rules often mirror how seriously national regulators treat these issues,” said Yuri. “If our government doesn’t prioritize digital safety, neither will they.”

The global paradox of safety

Digital violence against women journalists and activists is not unique to Indonesia, but the country’s experience exposes a broader global paradox. While laws, watchdogs, and advocacy networks have multiplied, the architecture of online spaces still reproduces misogyny and impunity.

Despite new frameworks like the TPKS and PDP Laws, implementation lags behind. Media outlets and NGOs, lacking resources or digital literacy, rely on external support, while platforms, the very spaces where violence occurs, remain largely unaccountable.

There is not yet a regulation in Indonesia that fully and explicitly holds tech platforms responsible for digital violence (such as harassment, doxing, gender-based online abuse) in a way that mirrors their responsibility for content moderation. The ITE Law is often used to punish individuals for content rather than to require platforms to proactively prevent or remove harmful content. For example, a study mentioned “the absence of national legal norms that explicitly regulate the responsibility of platforms also weakens legal protection for victims.”

As Siti Tardi put it, “Without rapid response, victims are left exposed.” Indonesia’s struggle mirrors those of many countries across the Global South, where patriarchal norms, weak institutions, and unresponsive tech companies intersect.

After five years of advocacy, reports, and investigations, survivors like Bunga are done waiting for justice and for safety online. In Indonesia’s digital space, silence and inaction continue to speak the loudest.

Originally published on Global Voices

Among the main issues addressed by residents are flooding, lack of forest coverage, and inadequate housing. Photo by Isabela Alves/Agência Mural, used with permission.

This story, written by Isabela Alves, was originally published on October 31, 2025, on Agência Mural’s website. The edited article is republished here under a partnership agreement with Global Voices.

Not expanding landfills in poorer neighbourhoods, promoting environmental education in schools and other spaces, creating a green currency for recycling, and holding big polluters and public authorities accountable for preservation.

These are some of the proposals developed by activists from the peripheries — marginalized, poorer neighborhoods — of São Paulo, Brazil, the largest city in Latin America. They are to be taken to COP 30 (the 2025 United Nations Climate Change Conference), being held between November 10 and 21, in the city of Belém, in the northern Brazilian state of Pará.

In total, about 30 proposals appear in the “Letter from the Peripheries on Commitments for the Climate – The Atmosphere is Tense!,” signed by 50 collectives and 1,000 community leaders. As well as the proposed ideas, the document provides an analysis of the situation in these areas in the face of climate change.

“We plan to connect with people from other countries, other regions and marginalized areas of Brazil, so that together we can present a project shaped by society’s peripheries,” said Edson Pardinho, 50, coordinator of the Peripheral [Neighbourhoods’] Front for Rights, which organized the letter.

The Peripheral [Neighbourhoods’] Front for Rights came out of the collaboration of social movements during the COVID-19 pandemic, when they acted to help families by distributing food, hygiene kits, and masks. Following the pandemic, the collectives continued their work together.

In the months before the COP, the front mobilized activists to discuss climate goals in their neighbourhoods and draft their collective proposals.

“[Climatic changes] first affect the outer peripheries, and only then are they felt in the more protected areas. Those who live in peripheral neighbourhoods have been dealing with climate change for a long time,” Pardinho observed.

The letter presents ideas with the objective of guiding public policies and community practices that promote socio-environmental justice. It emphasizes the importance of strengthening public involvement in decisions concerning their territory. The suggestions include actions aimed at waste management, environmental education, decent housing, a solidarity economy, and basic sanitation.

Marginalized voices speaking about the climate

Jaison Lara is an environmental activist working on culture and the education of children and young people. Photo by Isabela Alves/Agência Mural, used with permission.

The letter highlights that the historical expansion of São Paulo’s peripheral areas was driven by the lack of urban planning. “The city’s rapid expansion was not [socioeconomically] neutral: it prioritized major economic interests, such as those of the real estate market, whose exclusionary logic relegated poorer people to dilapidated, risky areas.”

“People have developed their own technologies to make sure they survive, even with the worsening climate situation,” said Pardinho, a resident of the Dom Tomás Balduíno Settlement in Franco da Rocha, São Paulo.

Mateus Munadas, 34, is one of the founders of the Peripheral [Neighbourhoods’] Front for Rights and a resident of Itaquera district. For him, it is important that peripheral activists attend the COP, as the perspectives of those who truly feel the impacts of the climate emergency daily are never taken into account.

“There are common points of vulnerability between these marginalized neighbourhoods, and there are also many people fighting for change in these areas,” he said.

Among their proposed solutions are actions such as cleaning streams, community vegetable gardens and farms, solidarity groups during storms, environmental support networks, and community communications. In the field of education, social educators, culture collectives, and teachers are working tirelessly to raise awareness about SDOs (Sustainable Development Objectives), and warn about the environmental racism experienced in marginalized areas.

There are also other solutions, such as community reforestation, strengthening recycling cooperatives, expanding rainwater collection networks, and plans for local adaptation guided by the communities themselves, according to sources Mural spoke to. 

A place for discussion

Children and teenagers from Jardim Lucélia and Jardim Shangri-lá, from Grajaú, spoke about climate change. Photo by Isabela Alves/Agência Mural, used with permission.

The Guaraní people from the Tekoá Pyau Indigenous Village, in Jaraguá, called for the protection of Indigenous peoples, and highlighted that their survival is essential for environmental preservation.

“It is not only about the increase in temperature, but [also] the survival of human beings who cohabit wooded and forested spaces. They are directly targeted by landowners and real estate speculation,” Pardinho said.

The coordinator of Casa Ecoativa, Jaison Lara, explained that the manifesto also questions the logic behind an event historically composed mostly by older, white, and cisgender men who nevertheless speak on behalf of the diverse range of residents and territories.

“If there are only diplomatic figures [present], the [same] powerful people as always, it will likely be an empty event as it won’t take into account knowledge from the peripheries, quilombolas [settlements of residents descended from enslaved people who escaped to freedom], Indigenous and riverside dwellers,” said Lara.

In one of the meetings, Lara talked to more than 200 children. “These are the main people facing the environmental disasters that have been happening. We are leaving [them] a collapsing planet, and this isn’t their fault. There are no public policies that relate to this age group, that look at these children,” he said.

The housing issue

A key question for those living in the peripheries is the right to housing, especially in areas such as the very south of São Paulo. Here, there are houses built irregularly in the “APAs” (Environmental Protection Areas). In recent months, Greater São Paulo has seen a series of actions by authorities and judicial decisions against these occupations.

“Housing and the environment must go together,” argued Clair Helena Santos, 67, coordinator of the housing movement for Missionária-Cidade Ademar and Cecasul (Citizenship and Social Action Centre – South).

Santos joined the social movement at the age of 17 and has been selected as an activist to attend COP30. “Having housing, I understood that it is the channel for all other human rights: health, education, transport, leisure, and so many others,” she said.

Clair Helena Santos has been an activist for housing rights since the age of 17; she was selected to go to COP30. Photo by Isabela Alves/Agência Mural, used with permission.

The letter to the COP proposes an “end to evictions and violent practices against settlements and favelas,” and programs aimed at people living in at-risk areas, so that they do not find themselves with nowhere to go if anything happens to their homes.

The letter shows the main demands of communities in areas such as Cidade Ademar and Pedreira, regions hit hard by climate change, as they are near dams or sewage flows.

A recent example of environmental impact was the construction of a bridge on Alvarenga Road, which passes over the Billings Dam, one of the largest water reservoirs in São Paulo, affecting aquatic fauna and plants.

“There’s no point in the big guys staying there discussing the environment and fighting floods if the peripheries and social movements are not represented, right? For us, it’s the maxim of nothing about us, without us,” Santos observed.

Originally published on Global Voices

Laura Jasper. Photo by Vančo Džambaski, CC BY-NC.

This interview by Elida Zylbeari was first published by Antidisinfo.net as part of the Western Balkans Anti-Disinformation Hub on November 12, 2025. An edited version is republished here under a content-sharing agreement between Global Voices and Metamorphosis Foundation. 

The nature of foreign interference is fundamentally changing. Laura Jasper, a leading expert on Foreign Information Manipulation and Interference (FIMI) from The Hague Centre for Strategic Studies (HCSS), in an interview for Antidisinfo.net, says that the greatest strategic threat posed by generative AI is the unprecedented speed, scale, and personalization of disinformation campaigns. She highlights that attributing complex attacks is now a matter of probability, not certainty, due to adversaries using proxies and commercial tools. Across Europe and the Indo-Pacific, hostile actors exploit a single, shared vulnerability: a high dependency on commercial platforms coupled with deep societal social trust fractures. Also, Jasper reveals that to measure success, analysts must shift from tracking opinions to verifying real-world behavioral outcomes, the ultimate goal of disinformation. 

Elida Zylbeari (EZ): How is Generative AI fundamentally changing the game for foreign actors? In simple terms, what is the single biggest new strategic threat that AI poses to our democracies right now? 

Laura Jasper (LJ): Put very simply, GenAI poses challenges on the following aspects: 1) speed at which disinformation is disseminated, 2) scale at which it is spread, and 3) how it allows for the ‘personalization’ of messages. Meaning that it becomes easier to tailor messages at a large scale for different target audiences.  

EZ: When you analyze a disinformation campaign, how hard is it to say definitively: “This country or group did it?” What unique information or data do analysts need to confidently attribute a complex attack? 

LJ: The question of attribution is more often one of probability rather than it is a binary/clear cut decision. Therefore we speak in terms of ‘it is likely that’ rather than very matter-of-factly stating with 100 percent certainty that one actor did it. This is because adversaries increasingly make use of  proxies, false flags and commercial tools (including GenAI). It is much more feasible and workable for an analyst to assign confidence levels (e.g., low/medium/high) rather than absolute certainty. There does not exist one specific tool or piece of information that will magically make the question of attribution easier to solve. Assigning probabilities, communicating these and publishing the basis of the evidence that analysts gather is a way we can preserve credibility and also build our knowledge base by sharing this with other parties.  

EZ: HCSS studies FIMI across the globe. What is the most dangerous shared vulnerability that you see in both Europe and the Indo-Pacific that hostile actors are currently exploiting in their information campaigns? 

Laura Jasper, a leading expert on Foreign Information Manipulation and Interference (FIMI). Photo by Antidisinfo.net, used with permission.

LJ: We have recently published these two studies that you can look at in regard to this question: Building Bridges: Euro-Indo-Pacific Cooperation for resilient FIMI Strategies and FIMI in Focus: Navigating Information Threats in the Indo-Pacific and Europe. 

In these studies we highlight that the main shared vulnerabilities are: high dependency on commercial platforms combined with social trust fractures (polarization, low institutional trust). These are exploited the same way across regions. The most dangerous there is the use of existing social trust fractures which are exploited and amplified by hostile actors.  

EZ: Disinformation aims to change behavior, not just opinions. How do you measure if a foreign campaign is succeeding in the real world? What data shows analysts that a society is truly resilient? 

LJ: Behavior is driven by opinions. For example, someone might have changed their opinion but this change is not visible in the physical world up until the point where the person’s behavior changes due to the change of opinion. For instance, they vote differently or express their opinion in a physical, material manner. Therefore as analysts we look at the changes of behavior since we can see changes in opinion, we can register it and we can thus measure it.    

The question asks for two different sets of measurements: 1) the impact of FIMI campaigns and 2) how well a society can sustain these campaigns.  

For both questions there are a couple of important factors to keep in mind: I will explain on the basis of an example. Disinformation’s real goal is to change behavior, so analysts must first define the specific behavioral end-state they want to measure — for example, reduced voter turnout or increased protest participation. Measuring success then requires clear baselines and counterfactuals to see whether behavior actually shifted after a campaign. Analysts combine quantitative data (polling, mobility, transaction or participation records) with qualitative insights (interviews, focus groups) to link observed actions to exposure. True resilience appears when societies quickly recover from attempted manipulation — when intended behaviors do not materialize or rebound rapidly. In short, effective measurement starts with the end in mind: defining, tracking, and verifying observable behavioral outcomes rather than just opinions.

This answer is mostly derived from this study we did some time ago: Start with the End: Effect Measurement of Behavioural Influencing in Military Operations.

Journalist Elida Zylbeari and Laura Jasper during the interview. Photo by Antidisinfo.net, used with permission.

EZ: When foreign influence falls into a “grey zone” — meaning it’s harmful but not strictly illegal — what is the most effective, non-legal strategic tool governments should use to push back against it? 

LJ: I would strongly advise to not use the word ‘non-legal’ as this suggests that you are operating outside of the law. As such I can thus not answer this question as it would suggest that I am advising how to operate outside of the law.  

In general I believe these tools and the responsibility should not solely be left with the highest level of government. The strength lies in engaging more local actors across borders to build trust within societies. With local I mean community builders, investigative journalists, etc. So I believe this should not solely come top-down from the government but rather be handled on a more granular level throughout the whole of society.  

Originally published on Global Voices

The Mekong river stretches across six countries: China, Myanmar, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam. Image from Flickr. CC BY 4.0

This article was submitted as part of the Global Voices Climate Justice fellowship, which pairs journalists from Sinophone and Global Majority countries to investigate the effects of Chinese development projects abroad. Find more stories here.

Around 10,000 people dressed in white polo shirts gathered near the Mekong River in Prek Takeo Village in Cambodia’s Kandal province on August 5, 2024. A huge stage with yellow and blue decorations floated above the water, with colorful balloons and Cambodia’s flag swaying here and there. At 9:09 am, the sound of bells, gongs, and drums echoed across Cambodia as Prime Minister Hun Manet took the stage and pressed a symbolic button.  

It was the groundbreaking ceremony for the construction of a new mega project called the Funan Techo Canal, which was attended by many high-profile guests from across the world. 

Cambodians were required to celebrate the groundbreaking ceremony with a one-day national holiday. The ceremony was broadcast by every state and private television station in the country and covered by journalists from national and international media alike.  

“The Funan Techo Canal will link the capital Phnom Penh to the deep water port in Preah Sihanouk province… facilitating the country’s trade exchange with the world,” said Hun Manet in his speech at the groundbreaking event.

The canal will span 180 kilometers, starting from the Mekong River’s Preak Takeo tributary in Kandal province, passing through Takeo and Kampot provinces to the coast in Kep province. It will connect Phnom Penh to the Gulf of Thailand and is projected to enhance Cambodia’s industrial, agricultural, logistics, and real estate sectors by directly connecting with international trade routes. 

But after the grand inauguration, the construction of the canal was halted for several months, reportedly due to “funding issues” with China. The Cambodian government denied the allegation, slamming the media reports as “misinformation.”

In April 2025, a deal was made between Cambodia and China Communications Construction Company (CCCC), the parent company of China Road and Bridge Corporation. Structured under a 51–49 ownership model of the Public Partnership Contract agreement, the budget was revised from an estimated USD 1.7 billion to USD 1.16 billion. 

During his remarks, Wang Tongzhou, Chairman of CCCC, emphasized that the Kingdom is an important strategic market in Southeast Asia.  

“More importantly, it marks a significant milestone in deepening cooperation between the two nations,” he said, as quoted by Khmer Times.

Expected to finish in 2028, this project is not without its controversies. Aimed at boosting Cambodia’s economy, there have been some environmental and human rights concerns related to the project, especially for the Mekong Delta, a vital part of people’s livelihoods in other neighboring Southeast Asian countries. 

The Funan Techo Canal route. Image via Wikimedia Commons. License CC BY-SA 3.0.

What is the Funan Techo Canal? 

Initially announced in 2021, the Funan Techo Canal is a major waterway infrastructure that would be 100 meters wide, 5,4 meters deep, and designed to accommodate vessels of up to 3,000 deadweight tons. Once completed, it will strengthen Cambodia’s position as a regional logistics hub and reduce its dependence on Vietnamese ports for trade access. 

This project reflects the country’s aspiration to become a major logistics hub in Southeast Asia. It is expected to reduce shipping costs by 70 percent and is projected to earn USD 88 million annually from transportation by 2050. The canal will be a shortcut to international trade that will stimulate more foreign investment and create jobs.  

The Cambodian government claimed that 1.6 million people living on both sides of the waterways will benefit from the project. Hailed as a “revolutionary engineering achievement,” this canal is expected to boost the agricultural sectors and enhance flood mitigation and water conservation efforts, especially in the dry season, according to Mey Kaylan, a senior adviser to the Supreme National Economic Council of Cambodia.

“It will open up a new horizon for the development of Cambodia,” said Mey to China Daily. 

During the inauguration ceremony, Hun Manet stated that the canal will be built “no matter what the cost” as it brought “national prestige” to the Cambodian people. Yen Samnang, a research fellow at the Phnom Penh-based Asian Vision Institute think tank, shared optimism that this canal will enhance regional connectivity and economic integration. 

 “The project is truly in line with Cambodia’s values of sustainability, innovation, and global cooperation,” he told the Khmer Times.   

Environmental and human rights concerns

While the Cambodian government has insisted the canal is environmentally sustainable, environmentalists are concerned about the future of the Mekong waterway. 

The Mekong River is a vital resource for millions who live on the banks of the river, from China to Myanmar, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam. It is the world’s largest inland fishery, sustaining at least 40 million people and generating over USD 11 billion annually, according to the World Wildlife Fund. Mekong is also the world’s third most biodiverse river, with at least 1,148 fish species, and an important food zone for the world. 

Vietnam has raised concerns that the Funan Techo Canal would disrupt the ecosystem balance, especially in the Mekong Delta in southern Vietnam. The canal’s high embankments will prevent silt-laden floodwater from flowing downstream to Vietnam, which could cause drought in Vietnam’s agricultural “rice bowl” and Cambodia’s floodplains, according to Brian Eyler, director of the Washington-based Stimson Center’s Southeast Asia Program.  

For Vietnam, this could undermine its agricultural sector, which accounts for 12 percent of its economy. In 2024, Vietnam exported over 9 million tons of rice, generating a value of USD 5.7 billion. This number accounted for 15 percent of global exports, raising global food security concerns, SCMP reported. 

Vietnam accounted for 15 percent of global rice exports. Image from Wikimedia Commons. License CC BY-SA 3.0 

Furthermore, Le Phat Quoi, head of Vietnam’s Institute for Environment and Natural Resources, told Mongabay that digging the canal will disrupt the region’s Holocene soil, “a potential acid sulfate soil” which will oxidize into “actual acid sulfate soil,” producing sulfuric acid. This process could corrode canal infrastructure and release dangerous concentrations of heavy metals into the floodplain, threatening both agriculture and aquatic ecosystems. 

However, Cambodian President Hun Sen debunked these concerns via a post on X, arguing that “this canal has no impact on the flow of the Mekong River, as it does not connect directly to the Mekong but rather to the Bassac River.” 

Locals would also be threatened by the construction of the canal, as many who live along the banks may lose their homes. Dim Mech, a businessman living along the planned canal route since before 2000, told CamboJA News that he has yet to receive any official notice regarding compensation or relocation, even though local authorities have already documented his land, home, and crops.

“I’m afraid to leave. I’ve worked so hard to build this life. If I lose it, I won’t survive,” he said to CamboJA News.   

Strengthening China-Cambodia relations

This canal has also raised questions about the future of Cambodia’s geopolitics. The Chinese ambassador to Cambodia, Wang Wenbin, said this project marks a “new stage” in China-Cambodia cooperation. 

Analysts believe that the Funan Techo Canal could help China to expand its economic and geopolitical influence in Cambodia and in the wider region, but China’s rising dominance would concern the US and Vietnam. 

“Regarding the controversy [with Cambodia] over the canal, environmental protection or other arguments are not substantial reasons,” Zhou Chao, a researcher at Anbound Consulting’s Beijing Research Center, told the South China Morning Post. “Fundamentally, it is the wariness and resistance of the US and Vietnam towards the continuous rise of China’s influence.”

Politically, China has invested heavily in Cambodia to expand its soft power and diplomatic influence. For Cambodia, China is the largest source of its foreign investment, providing an important boost to its infrastructure development and economic growth. While the canal project might increase the risk of government debt, in the short term, it helps to address Cambodia’s unemployment crisis, could boost its economic growth, and expand exports to China. By aligning with China economically, Cambodia also gains geopolitical protection in the region. 

Nguyen Tan Dung, former Prime Minister of Vietnam, and Hun Sen, the President of the Cambodian State. Image from Wikimedia Commons. License CC BY-SA 3.0.

However, this project could have a negative impact on the Cambodia-Vietnam relationship as it will reduce around 10 percent of international trade to and from Cambodia via Vietnamese ports. This could divert substantial trade from Vietnam to the Gulf of Thailand, strengthening China’s economic leverage over Vietnam. China and Vietnam have a fraught history and ongoing territorial disputes.  

While critics believe the canal represents a risk of Cambodia’s overreliance on China, Chinese media commentator Yuan Ye argued that, on the contrary, the Funan Techo Canal is an attempt for Cambodia to even the balance of power in the region. 

Yuan said to Guancha, a Chinese nationalistic media outlet:

与越南不同，柬埔寨并不把中国视为直接的安全威胁，相反，借助中国力量以制衡越南，是柬埔寨历史上的惯常策略。

Unlike Vietnam, Cambodia does not view China as a direct security threat. On the contrary, relying on China’s power to balance Vietnam has been a common strategy in Cambodia's history.

Originally published on Global Voices

Students studying at a library in Wuyuan, China. Photo by Jason Hu on Pexels. Free to use.

By Salima Ennasabi

A growing number of African students are moving to China for higher education as economic and social pressures push many young people to seek opportunities abroad.

Between 2011 and 2018, the number of African students studying in Chinese higher education institutions increased from 20,744 to 81,562, making China the second most popular destination for African students, after France.

Morocco has emerged as one of the leading countries for students studying abroad, ranking 18th globally in 2022 with 74,289 students pursuing their education internationally.

Why are students leaving?

For Moroccan Gen Z, who struggle to keep up with living costs and who must rely on their families to stay afloat, studying abroad offers pathways to better education and job prospects that promise greater social protection and financial stability. 

In some European countries, as well as in China, graduates can secure jobs that allow them to live independently and plan for the future. This stability is often hard to find back home, where the unemployment rate among young people aged 15 to 24 reached an unprecedented 39.5 percent in the first half of 2025, according to a labor market report from the High Commission for Planning (HCP). 

Meanwhile, if they do find a job, the first average net salary for university graduates does not exceed MAD 4,959 (USD 550) monthly, which in cities like Casablanca or Rabat, where rent is exceptionally high, barely covers basic living costs. 

This reality leaves many feeling trapped in a system that fails to reward their efforts.

“There are no opportunities, and no choices,” 20-year-old Ihsan explained in a conversation with the Friedrich Neumann Foundation. “Some really talented people, smart geniuses, I would describe them, are working jobs that do not pay well. And it’s very unfortunate, because I would see myself being one of them in the future after getting my degree,” the English literature student added. 

Gen-Z protests

Frustration with these conditions led hundreds of young Moroccans to organize a series of protests that began on September 27. The protests, which faced backlash from authorities, demanded reforms in employment, healthcare, and education — critical sectors for the nation’s human capital development — as the education system continues to fail many students. 

Despite government efforts, including a budget increase to around 16.9 percent in 2021 (well above the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development, OECD, average of 12.4 percent), systemic problems persist in higher education. Universities remain overcrowded, forcing some students to sit on floors. Resources are limited in science labs, leaving experiments to the students’ imagination. Access to quality programs differs significantly by region, making many move hundreds of kilometers away from their hometown to a new city where dormitories are full and scholarships are unavailable. 

It is no surprise that many young people are developing a mobility mindset, which creates a cycle of social peer pressure to leave the country, as Hakim describes from his own experience living near coastal cities closest to Spain. From the moment they are born, even children from well-off families hear that Europe is “heaven,” and they want to leave Morocco, influenced by cousins abroad or by what they see on television.

In response to this, educational agencies and content creators have capitalized on the rising demand for study-abroad options, transforming the educational consulting market in the process.

Content creators filling the information gap

Electronic word-of-mouth also plays a significant role in the increasing number of students moving to China. In Morocco, where about 97 percent of young people are active on social media, digital content created by local educational agencies and student-led promotions of Chinese universities tends to resonate more with prospective international students. This content uses simple, accessible language and offers a glimpse into the lives of content creators who are already studying in China and often come from similar social and financial backgrounds as their audience. 

Showing relatable experiences creates a bond between the audience and the agency or influencer, often in ways that feel more relatable and trustworthy than traditional campaigns.

One of these well-known influencers who shares China-related content is Alae Kandil. Through her channel on YouTube, which has 200,000 subscribers, she documents her life as an international student in Hangzhou, China.

In a two-part video series, Alae and Abderrahman Zahid, the founder of an intermediary agency called Tawjeeh, openly discuss their experiences as international students. They address important topics like safety, misconceptions about China in Western media, the quality of Chinese universities, and how to make the most of student life.

Content creators like Alae often exhibit a recurring pattern in their work. Their content is typically positive and constructive, emphasizing the lifestyle and benefits of studying in China rather than delving into the specifics of applications or paperwork.. This approach helps attract an audience while leaving space for paid services or educational agencies to provide more detailed support.

Content creators typically fall into two categories: those who stay in the influencer lane, focusing on monetizing their content and collaborating with educational agencies, and those who turn their work into a business by launching a formal agency.

Educational agencies as middlemen

Agencies operating in Morocco are often run by former students who use their firsthand experience of China to establish agencies across several cities, including Casablanca, Rabat, and Marrakesh.

Generally, there are two types of educational agencies. One is institution-focused, meaning they are contracted by universities to recruit students, and they receive a commission for every successful enrollment. The second type is student-focused; rather than being paid only by the universities, they charge students directly for helping them secure admission. They operate both online and offline through marketing campaigns on social media platforms, collaborations with influencers, and by organizing educational fairs.

Official agency websites indicate that when recruiting students, agencies focus on three factors: affordability, quality of education and job prospects. The last is less developed than in traditional destinations such as Canada and the UK, where pathways to residence or citizenship are often clear, even if increasingly difficult. 

In China, international students face a complicated process when converting a student visa (X-visa) into a work visa (Z-visa), which requires a job offer, employer sponsorship, and, in many cases, a minimum of two years’ work experience abroad, effectively forcing many graduates to return to their home countries. These restrictions, together with linguistic and cultural barriers, further reduce employment opportunities for international graduates.

Nevertheless, there remains a strong interest in studying in China, and educational agencies have found a ready market among Moroccan students, many of whom are unfamiliar with international application procedures, have limited access to funding information, and need guidance in navigating admissions and visa processes.

Some students report positive outcomes, while others encounter unethical practices that prioritize the agency’s interests over the students’ benefit. Walid Elamri, a content creator studying in China, made a video detailing how he was scammed by a well-known local agency that had promised him university acceptance for a one-year language program in China, along with visa support, only to find out the course was online, and he could not go to China. He had also compiled similar testimonials on his Instagram account to raise awareness about the fraudulent practices of some educational agencies in Morocco.

It remains uncertain how the growing influence of student content creators and educational agencies will shape the movement of Moroccan students to China and their experiences during this process. Given how little research exists on this topic, the long-term impact of these actors is unclear. Beyond this is a larger question: what will be the long-term impact on Morocco if its most educated and talented youth continue to leave?

Originally published on Global Voices

Screenshot from Eyoha Media’s YouTube channel, showing two hooded guests facing away from the camera during a segment on disputed online donations. Fair use.

A viral act of “kindness”

A TikTok clip began circulating, filmed inside a parked car near Bole, Addis Ababa. The camera faced inward. A man called Tamru sat in the passenger seat, shoulders hunched, voice low, describing illness and daily struggle. The man behind the camera never showed his face. When Tamru finished, a hand entered the frame and pressed a folded wad of cash into his palm.

The clip first appeared on @melektegnaw_ (about 1.7 million followers), a popular TikTok handle that seemingly encourages charity. There are countless others built on the same formula: emotion as the hook, the subject as the thumbnail, a small cash handoff as “proof,” and clicks that translate into engagement and revenue.

On the recording, Tamru asked if there might be longer-term help that could put him back on his feet. The two exchanged phone numbers and a bank account. The man told him to keep praying — that the money came through prayer, and that he was merely a messenger connecting givers and the needy.

The scene hinted at transformation.

The money moved, but the promise did not

After the TikTok clip went viral, people mobilized — and so did the money. Within weeks, more than USD 1,576 (about ETB 260,000) moved through a bank account in Tamru’s name, while an estimated USD 2,120 to 2,4251 (about ETB 350,000 to 400,000) went to accounts he says were tied to associates of the masked organizer. Much of it came from members of the Ethiopian diaspora who believed they were lifting a stranger out of poverty. The funds were meant to buy Tamru a Bajaj, a three-wheeled taxi that could have put him back to work.

Instead, Tamru recalls being told over the phone by the same man who met him in person — the faceless figure in the earlier clip who filmed him handing over the wad of cash shown on TikTok to send more money for ‘tax clearance,’ ‘transport fees,’ ‘processing,’ and even ‘frozen account’ penalties. By the end, he estimates he wired USD 1,212 (about ETB 200,000) from funds deposited into his own account. Only after the promises kept shifting did he take his story public, sitting for a nearly three-hour interview on Eyoha Media, a YouTube channel with a large audience, hoping exposure might force answers.

The men behind the masks

In that interview, Tamru never mentioned @melektegnaw_, even though the clip first appeared there. Instead, he said the man behind the camera was ‘Baladeraw’ — of the TikTok channel @baladeraw — and added that when the host phoned him, he thought he recognized the voice.

Baladeraw’s “charity” brand mixes faith, emotion — and opacity. Screenshot from Baladeraw’s TikTok page. Fair use.

From my review, both channels use the same staging: hoods up, the camera fixed behind the “giver,” and slogans printed across sweatshirts — “the trustee” (ባለአደራው) and “the messenger” (መልክተኛው). They frame anonymity as religious humility. It remains unclear whether this involves two men, a coordinated group, or one operator using multiple identities.

A screenshot from @melektegnaw_  on TikTok, whose viral “charity” clips turn compassion into clicks amid growing scrutiny over how donations are handled. Fair use.

What is clear is the pattern. Both accounts follow the same template: a humanitarian persona across Facebook, YouTube, and TikTok who appears faceless, selfless, and devout. Each video traces the same emotional arc — a vulnerable subject, an anonymous “rescuer,” and a small on-camera handout — crafted to look like spontaneous charity while evading scrutiny.

Faith, optics, and profit

On Facebook and TikTok, a stream of handheld, emotional clips does most of the legitimizing. Platforms reward the optics; audiences read them as proof. A cursory look at Baladeraw turns up a Facebook page labeled “Charity Organization” and a website — trappings of credibility with little visible oversight.

That credibility converts to cash. Baladeraw reports raising more about USD 10,958.96 (more than ETB 1.5 million) through Chapa, an Ethiopian-licensed payment gateway regulated by the National Bank of Ethiopia as a “payment system operator.”

Meanwhile, both men’s TikTok presences blur personal and fundraising content. TikTok’s own rules state that fundraisers must be verified organizations — with registration, a website, and at least 1,000 followers — and, in some regions, additional tax documents. Yet these creators solicit donations as private users, outside TikTok’s verified fundraising tools, raising basic questions of compliance and transparency that the platform has not addressed.

On Facebook, Baladeraw’s “Charity Organization” page remains active, even though Meta’s policies explicitly ban charity fraud and scams. Why a masked operator with no public accounting can present as a charity remains unclear.

Anatomy of a confession that wasn’t

In a follow-up, Eyoha Media brought in both @melektegnaw_ and “Baladeraw,” hoping to settle the story. But instead of pressing for documents or receipts, the host guided Tamru toward retracting his accusations. Identities were obscured: no on-screen names or identifiers appeared; both fundraisers wore hoods, kept their backs to the camera, and only their voices were audible. No documentation was presented or reviewed. The hooded fundraisers walked away without answering how much was raised, who handled it, or whether any of it reached the beneficiary.

On his website, Baladeraw also embeds a clip from his interview with EBS, one of Ethiopia’s largest private broadcasters — hooded, facing away from the camera, his voice the only part revealed. The hosts never addressed the obvious: anonymity may be defensible when one gives their own money, but not when soliciting the public’s. Ethiopian law requires registered charities to disclose finances, keep records, and file reports. Masked fundraisers with donation links cannot claim exemption. Yet no one asked about this. The spectacle continued: the benefactor unseen, the gaze unflinching, the suffering on display.

The unmasking

In a late twist, the person behind @melektegnaw_  unmasked himself on Seifu on EBS, Ethiopia’s top late-night show, calling his work “God’s work.” He blamed impostors using look-alike accounts, said he posts beneficiaries’ own bank numbers so money goes ‘directly’ to them, and cited a 20,000 ETB (about USD 120) diversion he claims was the fault of an intermediary. He denied taking commissions, describing himself as a messenger who shares ‘verified’ cases and runs small drives like the ‘100 birr (about USD 0.60) challenge.

As in the Eyoha Media and EBS appearances, Seifu let him pass unchallenged, skipping basic questions of accountability and transparency. None of his claims were independently verified, and key issues remained unanswered: who verifies these cases, what records exist, and who is responsible when funds disappear.

The bigger story: Platforms, poverty, and profit

Ethiopia’s social media crisis is often framed around hate speech and misinformation. But scams thrive too — especially in under-served languages. In April 2023, AFP’s Ethiopia fact-check desk exposed a viral in Oromo Facebook post falsely promising “free travel to America” for two million Africans; the US Embassy confirmed it was a scam, and the link led to a job-search app, not visas.

Globally, the same pattern persists. Internal Meta documents reviewed by Reuters revealed that about 10 percent of its 2024 revenue was projected to come from ads tied to scams or banned goods. The company estimated users see 15 billion scam ads a day. In 2023, UK authorities reported that 54 percent of all payment scams involved Meta platforms.

These aren’t isolated incidents. They are symptoms of an attention economy where fraud scales faster than oversight — and where the platforms profiting from engagement have little incentive to act.

Originally published on Global Voices

Najeebullah Khitab performing. Image provided by the singer. Used with permission.

Whenever Najeebullah Khitab is remembered in Pakistan, it will be as the Afghan singer who lived in Bashir Chowk, Turkman Colony, Quetta — the capital of Balochistan province. His voice, name, and life gradually became part of the city’s fabric. Born into a family that migrated to Pakistan 46 years ago, Khitab spent his entire youth performing and living in the country that had given him a home.

This is the story of Najeebullah Khitab, a singer whose voice carries the hopes, struggles, and memories of a generation of Afghan refugees. Millions fled to Pakistan during the Soviet–Afghan war in the 1980s, seeking safety. Today, around 2.8 million Afghans still call Pakistan home, including roughly 1.3 million registered refugees. In 2023, Pakistan began sending undocumented migrants back, a stark reminder of how borders and policies can overshadow individual dreams.

Image provided by Najeebullah Khitab. Used with permission.

“I was born in Pakistan,” Khitab says quietly during a WhatsApp call, “but now I’m going back to Afghanistan — where music has no space.”

Khitab’s family, originally from Jowzjan province in northwestern Afghanistan, came to Pakistan seeking safety and stability. For decades, they found it. But in recent months, Pakistan’s government has begun a large-scale deportation drive, forcing hundreds of thousands of Afghan refugees to return to their homeland. “We packed our belongings fifteen days ago,” he says. “We’re standing outside the UNHCR’s Voluntary Repatriation Centre near Bakelite Customs, at the western entrance to Quetta, waiting for our repatriation certificate.”

That certificate, he explains, helps cover some travel expenses — but it cannot ease the emotional weight of leaving behind a life built over generations. “It’s been fifteen days, and we’re still waiting,” he says, his exhaustion tempered by quiet dignity.

For Khitab, returning to Afghanistan means losing more than a home, it means losing his passion. “When I go there, I will have to start life from zero,” he says. “But what hurts more than starting from zero is knowing there is no place for singing or music in Afghanistan anymore.”

Since the Taliban’s return to power, public music and performances have been banned under strict interpretations of Islamic law. For artists like Khitab, that ban is a blow, and it feels like suffocation. “Every nation has its own laws, and we respect that,” he says. “But banning music feels like a kind of force — a pressure on the soul.”

In Pakistan, music was his livelihood. “Singing was my only source of income,” he says. “Now, when I go back, I don’t know what I will do.” Yet, despite the hardship, he carries no anger. “Pakistan also has its reasons,” he says softly. “We are refugees, and this is their land. We understand.”

A truck carrying building materials outside the UNHCR office in Quetta. Image by the author.

Like many Afghan-born refugees, Khitabspent years trying to obtain Pakistani nationality, citing his birth and lifelong residence in the country. “I went to different courts,” he says. “I even approached the UNHCR, but I never received a positive response.”

“I wish to come back one day to perform again,” he adds. “People love my songs on both sides of the border. For a singer, love has no borders.”

He pauses, then recites softly in Pashto: “After every darkness, there will come a dawn.”

When contacted over WhatsApp, Zahir Pashtoon, a social activist working for Afghan refugees, began by explaining the background of the ongoing refugee crisis. He explained that in November 2023, Pakistan’s caretaker government announced its decision to expel Afghan refugees from the country. The process began in Karachi, the capital of Sindh province, where local authorities initiated the deportation drive.

According to Pashtoon, the repatriation plan has been implemented in three phases: first, those living in Pakistan without legal documentation were deported; second, individuals holding Afghan Citizen Cards (ACC) were sent back; and finally, the deportation of Proof of Registration (PoR) cardholders is now underway in the third phase.

According to him, conditions in Pakistan have become increasingly difficult, to the point where many refugees have chosen to leave voluntarily. He added that the UNHCR — the international agency responsible for refugees — has become largely inactive. “They continue to give hope,” he said, “but in practice, they are not providing much assistance. The financial support and funds that were once available have now stopped, and because of that, Afghan refugees are facing severe hardships.”

Truck carrying belongings of the refugees outside the UNHCR office in Quetta. Image by the author.

Discussing the issue of nationality, Pashtoon pointed out that although Khitab, the singer, was born in Pakistan, Afghan refugees born on Pakistani soil cannot claim Pakistani citizenship. He explained that when Pakistan first engaged with the United Nations on the refugee issue decades ago, it did not sign the clause obligating states to grant citizenship to refugees born within their territory. “Former Prime Minister Imran Khan once said that children of Afghan refugees born in Pakistan would be given citizenship,” Pashtoon noted, “but that promise was never fulfilled.”

Pashtoon added that refugee leaders had approached several Pakistani courts — including the Balochistan High Court, Peshawar High Court, and Islamabad High Court — seeking relief to prevent forced deportations, but all appeals were rejected. He also noted that political parties such as the Pashtunkhwa Milli Awami Party (PkMAP), the Awami National Party (ANP), and the Jamiat Ulema-e-Islam (JUI) protested and raised their voices in support of Afghan refugees, yet their efforts produced no tangible results.

Pakistan’s defense minister, Khawaja Muhammad Asif, has recently reiterated that all Afghan refugees must return to their home country, citing security and economic concerns. He stressed that their prolonged stay has created serious challenges for Pakistan’s stability. Asif stated that Pakistan is “facing a lot of problems” due to the large refugee population, claiming that several terrorist attacks have been launched from Afghan soil.

During the October 2025 border tensions between Pakistan and Afghanistan, clashes erupted and crossings were temporarily sealed, bringing the repatriation of Afghan refugees from Quetta to a standstill.

The atmosphere was heavy with uncertainty, the border was sealed, and Quetta’s district administration had begun tightening measures against Afghan refugees, urging them to leave.

Outside the UNHCR office near Baleli Customs, hundreds of Afghan families waited, their belongings bundled in cloth, their faces etched with exhaustion and hope. They waited for one thing: the border to reopen, so they could finally begin their journey home.

As the sun set over Quetta that evening, the UNHCR office stood as a silent witness to one of the region’s most human journeys — a migration shaped by memories, uncertainty, and the relentless search for belonging.

Originally published on Global Voices

‘Action COP30 Promises’; Photo by UN Climate Change – Kamran Guliyev on Flickr (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0).

The United Nations Climate Change Conference, COP 30, will be held in Belém, Brazil, from November 10 to 21. This event will continue global discussions on the climate crisis. The Caribbean, consisting of small island developing states (SIDS), has been vocal about climate justice, particularly regarding the Loss and Damage agenda. As the conference approaches, the Caribbean is adopting a wait-and-see stance on the discussions.

Meetings of the Conference of the Parties (COP) began taking place annually in response to the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC), the 1992 international treaty that preceded the 2015 Paris Agreement and its mission “to limit the temperature increase to 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels” — or, as it’s referred to in the Caribbean, “1.5 to stay alive.”

Regional nations have become increasingly sceptical about the environmental disruption these COP meetings cause, for seemingly few tangible outcomes. On the heels of continued intense and disproportionate climate impacts being experienced by SIDS — which contribute the least to global greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions — and even with COP 28 delivering promises on Loss and Damage, the reality remains that weak frameworks leave sizeable gaps between support pledges and real-life action.

It is a reality that may well have prompted the Jamaican government to take out a USD 150 million catastrophe bond as part of what the World Bank calls the island’s “well-developed disaster risk financing strategy.”

In the wake of Hurricane Melissa, AccuWeather estimates that the region will experience as much as USD 48 to 52 billion in damage. Its formula takes into account much more than insured losses, including long-term losses to the tourism sector, disruptions to business and agriculture, as well as costly infrastructural damage, evacuation, and cleanup expenses.

For island nations like Jamaica, Cuba, Haiti, the Dominican Republic, The Bahamas and Bermuda, all affected by the storm, the trauma is not simply in the moments of waiting for the storm to arrive, not knowing what it will bring. It is not even a matter of riding it out in uncertainty. The lingering damage sets in after the tempest has passed, and you take in the extent of the loss: people killed, homes destroyed, livelihoods reduced to nothing.

According to Theresa Rodriguez-Moodie, CEO of the Jamaica Environment Trust (JET), Jamaica was “reeling” from the intensity of the hurricane, telling Al Jazeera in a television interview, “These storms are becoming the norm, unfortunately, and it is fuelled by the climate crisis.”

When asked how she felt about the organisers of COP30 saying they have no plans to unveil any new measures at the conference in Belém, Rodriguez-Moodie replied, “What we need now is radical change. We need commitments. We need adaptation financing. We need Loss and Damage money […] now is not the time to pause.”

The JET CEO went on to explain that preliminary damage estimates have been coming in at USD 6-7 billion for Jamaica alone. “We cannot afford to continuously pay these kind of big bills year after year,” Rodriguez-Moodie continued, “and have the big polluters go off Scotch-free.”

Many of the large GHG emitters are not even attending the COP30 conference, with the leaders of the United States, China, India and Russia noticeably absent, but Roadriguez-Moodie was not in the least bit phased: “Even when they were at the table, we really didn't have much movement, but the fact is that we cannot have these big emitters claim leadership while they're abandoning their responsibilities, because their profits were built on our pain.”

She argued that the absence of the Big 4 from COP30 “is not neutrality; it really is cowardice.” What SIDS are asking for, she explained, is not charity: “What we're demanding is accountability — and we are not waiting for permission to survive […] we’re asking for these big polluters to pay what they owe [and] dismantle those systems that made them rich and left us vulnerable.”

The region “can’t continue to sit and wait,” she added, “but rather find creative ways to build its resilience and finance its Loss and Damage recovery.”

Originally published on Global Voices

Indigenous Treaty celebrations outside Victorian parliament. Screenshot NITV YouTube video: “Victoria makes history as Treaty legislation passes parliament”. Fair use

In a historic first, the State Parliament of Victoria has passed Australia’s first formal treaty with Indigenous First Peoples. It follows ten years of work with traditional owners.

First Peoples’ Assembly of Victoria Co-Chair Rueben Berg talked to ABC News Breakfast the next morning abou the historic treaty:

View this post on Instagram

The treaty is part of efforts to close the gap between Indigenous people and the rest of the Australian community.

The legislation establishes three key bodies: Gellung Warla (the First Peoples’ Assembly of Victoria as a permanent representative body), Nyerna Yoorrook Telkuna (a truth-telling body that will also incorporate truth-telling into Australia’s school curriculum), and Nginma Ngainga Wara (an accountability body). Additionally, an infrastructure fund will be created to give First Peoples greater control of the development projects that affect their communities.

Ngarra Murray, elected Co-Chair of the First Peoples’ Assembly of Victoria, explained why a treaty was needed:

Treaty recognises that Aboriginal people are the experts when it comes to our Country, culture and communities — and makes sure we can use our local knowledge to come up with and deliver practical solutions to improve health, education, and housing outcomes for our communities.

The news was greeted warmly by many Aussies. Mastodon user @susan60 joined others who would like to see it extended nationally:

Post by @Susan60@aus.social

View on Mastodon

However, not all Australians welcomed the legislation.

Some opponents believe it will be racially divisive and that it goes against the national sentiment expressed in the rejection of the Federal Voice referendum proposal in 2023. The Voice was to be a permanent consultative body written into the Australian Constitution to offer Indigenous citizens more representation in Parliament; however, it was rejected after more than 60 percent of voters voted no on the referendum.

Margaret Chambers at right-wing thinktank Institute of Public Affairs argued that:

…the treaty will function as a Voice on steroids, creating a separate and parallel parliament based on race.

[The treaty] will ensure that our democracy is transformed into a two-tier system based solely on ancestry.

Conservative parties opposed the treaty at both the State and Federal levels.
The conservative rural-based National Party and some of their Liberal Party allies doubled down on their earlier opposition to The Voice. Nationals Senate Leader Bridget McKenzie called Victoria’s treaty legislation “appalling”, while Liberal Victorian MP David Davis suggested that it would bring the state to a standstill.”

Victorian Liberal leader Brad Battin was condemned for his promise to repeal the new law if elected to government in 2026. The pro-treaty “Together for Treaty” movement started an online petition calling for Battin to back down as part of its ongoing campaign.

David Anthony’s comment on a SkyNews Facebook welcomed the treaty, which he described as unifying, not divisive.

Great to see Victoria embrace the Treaty. I still lament the loss of the Voice referendum as the perfect opportunity to ‘close the gap’ and make Australia a greater place. But state Treaties will be a huge help in improving the lives of thousands of people. Victoria coming to a standstill? That’s a pretty hysterical assertion made without evidence. Time for unity, not division.

Most of the replies to Anthony’s comment were very negative, as might be expected on the right-leaning SkyNews, which is owned by Rupert Murdoch’s News Corp. Brian Wray’s response reflected many of the anti-treaty views:

I agree it’s time for unity, the rest of your rant is purely delusional. The Australian electorate voted NO. This action by the Allen government is treachery. Nothing less.

Similar arguments took place on several Reddit posts. This was a typical thread.

The official Treaty website emphasises that the new law will in no way: Change the Victorian or Commonwealth Constitution, establish a “third chamber of Parliament” in the legislative chamber or house of Victoria’s Parliament or change tax laws or provide individual financial “reparations.”

The day after the vote, Indigenous person Big T, sounded a note of optimism on BlueSky:

Yesterday Victoria signed a Treaty.Today the sun is rising, so I guess it didn't cause the end of the world.

— Big T (@big-tony.bsky.social) 2025-10-31T17:58:15.940Z

The full legislation can be read here.

Originally published on Global Voices

The Kivu-Kinshasa green corridor in the DRC. Image from Anicet Kimonyo. Used with permission.

This article by Anicet Kimonyo was originally published by Peace News Network on October 29, 2025. An edited version is republished on Global Voices as part of a media partnership agreement.

Armed conflicts in the eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) are fueling poverty and accelerating environmental degradation.

In North Kivu province, home to Virunga National Park, one of the oldest in Africa, nearly 50 percent of the park’s territory is now under the control of armed groups, according to an assessment by the Provincial Directorate of North Kivu of the Congolese Institute for the Conservation of Nature (ICCN) from April 2025. These groups include the Alliance Fleuve Congo (AFC)-M23 rebels, Islamist groups, and various smaller local militias, as well as Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda (FDLR), which has members who took part in the Rwanda Genocide in 1994.

This armed presence around the park deprives the green economy of an estimated USD 30 million a year in revenue, diverted to rebel groups, according to the report. This perpetuates a cycle of violence to the detriment of biodiversity and local development.

The DRC has officially launched, by decree, the “Kivu-Kinshasa Green Corridor” (CVKK), a colossal project that aims to combine reforestation, economic development, and the stabilization of conflict-ravaged regions. The initiative, presented by authorities as a major contribution to the fight against climate change, will nevertheless require the government to overcome numerous structural and political challenges.

Signed on January 15, 2025, by Prime Minister Judith Suminwa, Decree No. 25/01 gives substance to one of the largest greening initiatives ever conceived in Central Africa. Spanning nearly 550,000 square kilometers, including 285,000 square kilometers of primary forests and 60,000 square kilometers of peatlands, the CVKK aims to transform areas weakened by decades of violence into hubs of sustainable growth. Emmanuel de Mérode, director of the ICCN, says:

The CVKK project is considered one of the largest initiatives [in the world] on the climate issue. The Congo is providing good news, and this will continue to be noticed.

In addition to protecting the Congo Basin, described as “the world’s largest tropical forest carbon sink,” the corridor is expected to enable the annual transfer of 1 million tons of food from the Kivus to Kinshasa. This will help to feed people impacted by conflict, primarily, and the entire country, considering the agricultural potential of this Green Corridor area. A dedicated fund will be created to develop businesses along the route in renewable energy, agriculture, and logistics. The government estimates the project will require at least USD 1 billion in financing over the next three to four years.

The CVKK is structured around several pillars: sustainable agriculture, ecotourism, community forestry, and ecosystem restoration. The stated objective is to create hundreds of thousands of “green” jobs, thereby providing legal alternatives to poaching and illegal resource exploitation. Emmanuel de Mérode explains:

The corridor provides economic benefits that do not depend on forest destruction, but on sustainable production methods. Hundreds of thousands of jobs [will be] created thanks to the preservation of species and forests. The communities themselves become conservation agents.

In Bas-Uélé, forest administrator Justin Tshipopo welcomes an “opportunity to strengthen community forestry.” He emphasizes the need to take traditional knowledge into account. He said:

Communities have preserved their forests for centuries. These practices must not be forgotten.

He stresses that the corridor must become a concrete instrument of development in fragile territories, capable of generating economic opportunities and strengthening social cohesion.

Long-term success will depend on the authorities’ ability to sustainably involve local populations, integrate their ancestral knowledge, and ensure impeccable governance. The Kivu-Kinshasa Green Corridor thus presents itself as a crucial test for the DRC’s ecological and economic transition, a challenge worthy of its immense natural resources.

While the ambitions are lauded, local activists are also demanding inclusive and transparent implementation. Fanny Minesi, representing the wildlife conservation NGO Friends of Bonobos of Congo (ABC), warns against a purely technocratic approach to the project. She asserts:

Our concern is to ensure that communities are not only informed, but also that they consent to the projects and become active participants. We must ensure that projects are not designed without the communities, and that the private sector, often preoccupied with profit, is not the only one guiding the decisions.

The success of the CVKK depends on close coordination between the government, conservation agencies, the private sector, and communities. However, land tensions, weak infrastructure, and historical mistrust persist. Some local populations are wary of the project, as they believe the government wants to take their land.

Pilot initiatives in the eastern DRC and Tshopo, however, are showing encouraging results, with a measurable reduction in local violence by armed groups against civilians and improved protection of Virunga National Park. Officials say the corridor will create jobs for hundreds of thousands of people, including young people, and will help them access more economic options so they are not pressured to join armed groups due to poverty.

Already, the DRC launched Climate Week on Monday, October 27, with the aim of bringing together stakeholders in the climate sector to jointly reflect on the issues. The Congolese Minister of the Environment and Climate Economy, Marie Nyange Ndambo, said during a press conference:

Without the DRC, there are no sustainable solutions to the global climate crisis, which we have not created elsewhere.

Continuing her address to the participants of the Congolese National Climate Week, Ndambo clarified that through the Congolese National Climate Week, the DRC aims to unite the voices of civil society, indigenous peoples, and other local and national stakeholders to prepare for COP30, which will be held in Belem, Brazil, starting November 1o, with a strong and credible conviction that “reflects our priorities and realities, so that at Belem, the Congo and the Congolese people speak with one voice and affirm that the DRC is ready to assume its role as a climate leader.” Nyange added

We want every Congolese to understand that the climate is not a distant issue, it affects our daily realities and therefore protecting the environment is protecting our future.

Originally published on Global Voices

Image by Liz Carrigan and Safa, with visual elements from Alessandro Cripsta, used with permission.

This article was written by Safa for the series “Digitized Divides,” originally published on tacticaltech.org. An edited version is republished by Global Voices under a partnership agreement.

Social media has been a key tool of information and connection for people who are part of traditionally marginalized communities. Young people access important communities they may not be able to access in real life, such as LGBTQ+ friendly spaces. In the words of one teen, “Throughout my entire life, I have been bullied relentlessly. However, when I’m online, I find that it is easier to make friends… […] Without it, I wouldn’t be here today.” But experts are saying that social media has been “both the best thing […] and it’s also the worst” to happen to the trans community, with hate speech and verbal abuse resulting in tragic real-life consequences. “Research to date suggests that social media experiences may be a double-edged sword for LGBTQ+ youth that can protect against or increase mental health and substance use risk.” 

In January 2025, Mark Zuckerberg announced that Meta (including Facebook and Instagram) would end their third-party fact-checking program in favor of the model of “community notes” on X (formerly Twitter). Meta’s decision included ending policies that protect LGBTQ+ users. Misinformation is an ongoing issue across social media platforms, reinforced and boosted by the design of the apps, with the most clicks and likes getting the most rewards, whether they be rewards of attention or money. Research found that “the 15% most habitual Facebook users were responsible for 37% of the false headlines shared in the study, suggesting that a relatively small number of people can have an outsized impact on the information ecosystem.”

Meta’s pledge to remove their third-party fact-checking program has raised alarm bells among journalists, human rights organizations, and researchers. The UN’s High Commissioner for Human Rights, Volker Türk, said in response: “Allowing hate speech and harmful content online has real world consequences.” Meta has been implicated in or accused of supercharging the genocide of the Rohingya in Myanmar, as well as fueling ethnic violence in Kenya, Ethiopia, and Nigeria, at least in part due to the rampant misinformation on its platform. 

“We have evidence from a variety of sources that hate speech, divisive political speech, and misinformation on Facebook … are affecting societies around the world,” said one leaked internal Facebook report from 2019. “We also have compelling evidence that our core product mechanics, such as virality, recommendations, and optimizing for engagement, are a significant part of why these types of speech flourish on the platform.” The International Fact-Checking Network responded to the end of the nine-year fact-checking program in an open letter shortly after Zuckerberg’s 2025 announcement, stating that “the decision to end Meta’s third-party fact-checking program is a step backward for those who want to see an internet that prioritizes accurate and trustworthy information.”

Unverifiable posts, disordered feeds

The algorithms behind social media platforms control which information is prioritized, repeated, and recommended to people in their feeds and search results. But even with several reports, studies, and shifting user behaviors, the companies themselves have not done much to adapt their user interface designs to catch up to the more modern ways of interaction and facilitate meaningful user fact-checking.

Even when media outlets publish corrections to false information and any unsubstantiated claims they perpetuate, it isn’t enough to reverse the damage. As described by First Draft News: “It is very, very difficult to dislodge [misinformation] from your brain.” When false information is published online or in the news and begins circulating, even if it is removed within minutes or hours, the “damage is done,” so to speak. Corrections and clarifying statements rarely get as much attention as the original piece of false information, and even if they are seen, they may not be internalized.  

Algorithms are so prevalent that, at first glance, they may seem trivial, but they are actually deeply significant. Well-known cases like the father who found out his daughter was pregnant through what was essentially an algorithm, and another father whose Facebook Year in Review “celebrated” the death of his daughter, illustrate how the creators, developers, and designers of algorithmically curated content should be considerate of worst-case scenarios. Edge cases, although rare, are significant and warrant inspection and mitigation. 

Furthering audiences down the rabbit hole, there have been a multitude of reports and studies that have found how recommendation algorithms across social media can radicalize audiences based on the content they prioritize and serve. “Moral outrage, specifically, is probably the most powerful form of content online.” A 2021 study found that TikTok’s algorithm led viewers from transphobic videos to violent far-right content, including racist, misogynistic, and ableist messaging. “Our research suggests that transphobia can be a gateway prejudice, leading to further far-right radicalization.” YouTube was also once dubbed the “radicalization engine,” and still seems to be struggling with its recommendation algorithms, such as the more recent report of YouTube Kids sending young viewers down eating disorder rabbit holes. Ahead of German elections in 2025, researchers found that social media feeds across platforms, but especially on TikTok, skewed right-wing. 

An erosion of credibility

People are increasingly looking for their information in different ways, beyond traditional news media outlets. A 2019 report found that teens were getting most of their news from social media. A 2022 article explained how many teens are using TikTok more than Google to find information. That same year, a study explored how adults under 30 trust information from social media almost as much as national news outlets. A 2023 multi-country report found that fewer than half (40 percent) of total respondents “trust news most of the time.” Researchers warned the trajectory of information disorder could result in governments steadily taking more control of information, adding “access to highly concentrated tech stacks will become an even more critical component of soft power for major powers to cement their influence.” 

Indonesia’s 2024 elections saw the use of AI-generated digital avatars take center stage, especially in capturing the attention of young voters. Former candidate and now President Prabowo Subianto used a cute digital avatar created by generative AI across social media platforms, including TikTok, and was able to completely rebrand his public image and win the presidency, distracting from accusations of major human rights abuses against him. Generative AI, including chatbots like ChatGPT, is also a key player in information disorder because of how realistic and convincing the texts and images it produces. 

Even seemingly harmless content on spam pages like “Shrimp Jesus” can result in real-world consequences, such as the erosion of trust, falling for scams, and having one’s data breached by brokers who feed that information back into systems, fueling digital influence. Furthermore, the outputs of generative AI may be highly controlled. “Automated systems have enabled governments to conduct more precise and subtle forms of online censorship,” according to a 2023 Freedom House report. “Purveyors of disinformation are employing AI-generated images, audio, and text, making the truth easier to distort and harder to discern.”

As has been echoed time and again throughout this series, technology is neither good nor bad — it depends on the purpose for which it is used. “Technology inherits the politics of its authors, but almost all technology can be harnessed in ways that transcend these frameworks.” These various use cases and comparisons can be useful when discussing specific tools and methods, but only at a superficial level — for instance, regarding digital avatars which were mentioned in this piece. 

One key example comes from Venezuela, where the media landscape is rife with AI-generated pro-government messages and people working in journalism face threats of imprisonment. In response, journalists have utilised digital avatars to help protect their identities and maintain privacy. This is, indeed, a story of resilience, but it sits within a larger and more nefarious context of power and punishment. While any individual tool can reveal both benefits and drawbacks in its use cases, zooming out and looking at the bigger picture reveals power systems and structures that put people at risk and the trade-offs of technology are simply not symmetrical. 

Two truths can exist at the same time, and the fact that technology is used for harnessing strength and is used for harming and oppressing people is significant.