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

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.

Originally published on Global Voices

Some of the participants at the Wikimedia Community Ireland Rising Voices Workshop at the National library of Ireland. CC BY-SA 4.0.

The following article is republished as part of a collaboration with Wikimedia Community Ireland and was originally published on their website on July 28, 2025. 

On July 14, 2025, Wikimedia Community Ireland hosted a Rising Voices Digital Activism Workshop for 20 participants at the National Library of Ireland.

Those in attendance included a range of stakeholders from the Irish language media and technology community.  We were joined by educators, representatives from Conradh na Gaeilge (a social and cultural organisation which promotes the Irish language in Ireland and worldwide), Tuarisc.ie, GaelGoer, ADAPT’s eSTÓR project team (aimed to improve machine translation and promote digital language equality in Europe), Raidió na Life, Raidió Rí-Rá, along with Irish language content creators.

Open knowledge is important for maintaining inclusivity, accessibility and diversity in the information we consume. It plays a key role in helping to dismantle a society in which certain traditions, beliefs, voices, heritage, ethnicities, or languages are valued or dominant over others.

Consequently, Irish language outreach is a key element of our work. Vicipéid, the Irish language Wikipedia, offers a valuable place for the Irish language to thrive in a community setting in the digital space. We were delighted to join Rising Voices’ international collaboration to co-host the workshop with the National Library of Ireland.

About Rising Voices and the UNESCO Digital Activism Toolkit

Rising Voices is a Global Voices outreach project that supports underrepresented communities who want to tell their own stories using digital media. Fifty percent of today’s spoken languages will be extinct or seriously endangered by 2100. Irish is considered to be at risk of digital extinction and was listed by the UNESCO Atlas of the World’s Languages in Danger as “definitely endangered.”

For the International Decade of Indigenous Languages 2022 to 2032 Rising Voices and a range of collaborators worked together to create the UNESCO Digital Initiatives for Minority Languages toolkit. The toolkit illustrates how the internet and other digital tools can be utilised to conserve and promote Indigenous languages and was the basis of the workshop.

Indigenous, endangered, and low-resource languages all have unique contexts, needs, and different resources available to them; thus, it is important to understand the local context. Grassroots action is key to achieving impactful, meaningful change. Action needs to be informed by experience and local knowledge, or in other words, those who are actively using the language in the digital space.

The Rising Voices Digital Activism Workshop 

Irish language Journalist Panel at Rising Voices x Wikimedia Community Ireland Workshop. CC BY-SA 4.0.

The schedule of the day was jam-packed with passionate presentations, interactive sessions, group Q&As, and panel discussions. Although a bilingual event, most attendees opted to use their Irish throughout the event, which had an open and warm atmosphere, instilling confidence in each participant’s language skills.

The day kicked off with a panel discussion with Maitiú Ó Coimín (Tuairisc.ie) and Róisín Ní Mhaoláin (Raidió na Life) on how digitisation has changed the landscape of media. Nóirín Ní Bhraoin, co-founder of the GaelGoer app (the first communications app in the Irish language), also presented. Cassie Ní Chatháin and Kate Ní Dhubhlaoich from Conradh na Gaeilge presented on Irish language activism initiatives and community organising.

Dr. Abigail Walsh from ADAPTs eSTÓR Project presented alongside her colleagues Mark Andrade and Bláithín Heffernan. They presented their current work on data curation using Vicipéid data. The project aims to develop key resources for Irish Machine Translation (EC) and ensure high-quality processing of Irish digital text data, which is vital for Digital Language Equality.

The post-presentation discussion highlighted the rift between the technological tools that are available for minority and majority languages, along with how powerful they have the potential to be in elevating the language in the digital space.

Content creation offers a launchpad for digital activism

Irish language content creators Laura Pakenham and Cúán de Búrca also presented. Their Irish language content serves as prime examples of how we can use social media platforms to promote the use of minority languages in our everyday lives.

Pakenham inspires users to implement Irish into their everyday language. She spoke about overcoming imposter syndrome and emphasised how mistakes can only lead to learning. She often posts vlog-style videos of her going about her day in Galway, but using Irish in her everyday interactions, like buying a coffee or popping to the shops. Her inspirational content is based on the ethos that instead of being intimidated by a lack of fluency, we should focus on the words we do have and make simple everyday switches.

Content creator and podcaster, De Búrca emphasised that revitalising minority languages starts with a community, which can be “as simple as two people speaking Irish rather than English.”

He also mentioned “the Kneecap effect” and how Irish is trending. However, he emphasized that engaging with the Irish language on a deeper level can lead to a richer experience of our linguistic heritage.

Both speakers provided the audience with some insights into content creation as Gaeilge on TikTok. They shared just how important small details like understanding how to increase engagement and cultivate your audience can be powerful skills for digital activism.

Workshop outcomes: TREORCHLÁR – ROADMAP

Cailínréalta, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

After the presentations, participants worked together to come up with a roadmap for digital activism for Irish. This roadmap outlines the current landscape, challenges, tools, goals, and collective vision for the future of the Irish language in digital and community contexts. It highlights a growing interest and pride in Irish among the public, though this is met with limited resources, government disengagement, and a lack of supportive infrastructure.

Major challenges include insufficient funding, time, and understanding of community needs, as well as a shortage of accessible digital tools in Irish. The roadmap envisions a future where Irish is widely spoken, visible in public and online spaces, supported by strong digital tools like translation apps and AI technologies, and integrated into everyday life, education, and services. Ultimately, the dream is for Irish to be a living, thriving language, used confidently across all aspects of society.

The next steps for the Rising Voice Digital Activism Initiative are to bring the results of the discussions and roadmap to those involved with the Government’s Irish Language support schemes Action Plan, for delivery of the Digital Plan for the Irish Language.

Originally published on Global Voices

Kehinde Adegboyega. Used with permission

The speed at which the internet is evolving is making its users increasingly vulnerable. Meanwhile, digital technology, which should help to concentrate and centralize information to prevent losses, offers no guarantee against hacking and theft of personal data by cyber-criminals.

Similarly, mass surveillance orchestrated by authoritarian and dictatorial governments endangers the lives of all those deemed suspicious or threatening to the powers that be, mainly human rights defenders and journalists.

Rights defenders and journalists need to strengthen the protection of their privacy by securing their communications, their sources of information (which are very important for their investigative work), and sensitive data such as research documents, information on human rights violations, etc. Encryption, therefore, appears to be a potential solution for these individuals in the face of sophisticated surveillance tools such as spyware.

Global Voices spoke with Kehinde Adegboyega, Co-Founder and Executive Director at Human Rights Journalists Network Nigeria. The organization's mission is to empower journalists and human rights defenders with ethical practices, digital resilience, and collaborative innovation, ensuring safe, impactful reporting. In this interview, Kehinde, who has worked alongside journalists to ensure their freedom and digital security, explains how encryption protects journalists and human rights defenders.

Jean Sovon (JS): What is encryption, and how does it protect journalists and human rights defenders in their daily work?

Kehinde Adegboyega (KA): ‎Encryption is basically a way of locking information so that only the intended person can open or read it. For journalists and human rights defenders, it’s a vital line of defense. When you use encrypted messaging apps or encrypted drives, even if someone intercepts your data, they can’t make sense of it. It protects sources, sensitive evidence, and private communications — which are often targeted in environments where surveillance and intimidation are common.‎

JS: Can you give some concrete examples in West Africa where encryption has prevented surveillance, data theft, or the disclosure of sensitive information for journalists or activists?

KA: ‎Yes, definitely. In Nigeria during the #EndSARS protests, journalists and activists relied on encrypted apps like Signal and VPNs to coordinate safely when government surveillance and internet restrictions were escalating. Encrypted group chats made it possible to share updates and footage without exposing sources. In Ghana and The Gambia, human rights groups have also used encrypted cloud storage to protect interviews and evidence from being seized or leaked, especially during elections and protests. So, in real terms, encryption has prevented serious harm in several West African contexts.

JS: What are the main threats or misconceptions surrounding encryption today, particularly in regions where freedom of expression is under threat?

KA: ‎One of the biggest misconceptions is that encryption only helps criminals. In reality, it protects ordinary citizens — including journalists, doctors, lawyers, and activists — from being spied on or having their information stolen. Unfortunately, some governments use “national security” as a reason to weaken encryption or demand backdoor access. The danger is that once encryption is weakened, everyone becomes vulnerable. Another issue is low awareness — many journalists still don’t fully understand how encryption works or why it’s essential to their safety.‎

‎JS: How can governments strike a balance between national security concerns, the right to privacy, and the need for encryption to protect freedom of expression and human rights?

KA: ‎It’s about building trust and transparency. Governments can pursue legitimate security concerns without undermining encryption. That means putting clear oversight around surveillance and focusing on targeted investigations — not blanket monitoring. The UN and the African Declaration on Internet Rights both recognize encryption as part of the right to privacy and free expression. So rather than banning it, governments should invest in cyber capacity and data protection laws that respect citizens’ rights.‎

‎JS: What tools, habits, or best practices would you recommend to journalists and human rights defenders to strengthen their digital security through encryption?

‎KA: Start small but be consistent. Use end-to-end encrypted apps like Signal for sensitive chats. Turn on device encryption on your phone and laptop. For email, use secure services like ProtonMail. Always back up your files in encrypted folders or drives. And never forget the basics — update your software, use strong passwords, and enable two-factor authentication. Most importantly, join digital safety trainings. Organizations like Human Rights Journalists Network Nigeria, Paradigm Initiative, Access Now, and the Tor Project offer practical tools and guidance that can make a big difference.

Originally published on Global Voices

Protesters in Madagascar raising the ‘One Piece’ skull and cross bones, with an adapted Malagasy hat. Screenshot from the video ‘Madagascar president flees country amid Gen Z protests’ uploaded to YouTube by Channel 4 News. Fair use.

By Jessica Northey and Narda Natioranomena 

Across the African continent, from Madagascar to Morocco, young people known as Generation Z, those born between the late 1990s and early 2000s, are taking to the streets to demand social justice and have their voices heard.

Beginning on September 25, Gen Z protests erupted in Madagascar, initially focused on the persistent power outages and water shortages that have plagued the country for months. This quickly expanded to target corruption, rampant inequalities, the lack of food security and later calls for the president to leave. On October 12, when it became clear that the anger against him meant his life was in danger, President Andry Rajoelina disappeared. He was later reported to have travelled via the French island of Reunion to Dubai.

The peaceful demonstrations, organized on social media, faced heavy repression from the authorities, leading to the deaths of 22 people, according to the UN. A special advisor to the president, speaking with TV5 Monde, denied that any deaths had occurred, much to the dismay of the protesters, who accused the government of lying.

Inspired by similar youth demonstrations in Nepal, the Malagasy Gen Z youth movement uses the same Japanese manga “One Piece” symbol of the skull and crossbones, with an adapted Malagasy hat. Protesters marched en masse across the capital, major cities and in the diaspora across the world.

Real demands

Meanwhile, in Morocco, mass youth demonstrations erupted in mid-September, focusing on inadequate and negligent healthcare, a lack of education, and corruption.

Why have these Gen Z revolutionary movements ignited now? And are they connected?

In Madagascar, there had long been dissatisfaction with the president and his network of extremely wealthy elites. Visible wealth and economic growth are evident throughout Madagascar, with new construction, high-rise buildings, and large SUVs crowding the streets of the capital, where the majority of people walk on non-existent sidewalks. Young people criticized a new football stadium and what is largely considered an ill-conceived yet very expensive electric cable car in the capital, despite severe electricity and water shortages.

The discovery of critical minerals, new mines and resources across the country underlines the riches and wealth in the Malagasy soils and waters. From sapphires, gold, graphite and cobalt, to vanilla, lychees, cocoa and coffee, Madagascar is increasingly and visibly abundant in natural resources.

Yet, the average Malagasy is poorer today than they were 20 years ago. Seventy-five percent live beneath the poverty line, and the international companies extracting those resources often appear to care little for Madagascar’s natural environment. The president provoked even  further outrage over his disconnection with the lives of the majority when he justified glaring inequalities in an interview with TV5 Monde Journal Afrique, declaring that the rural poor in Madagascar were “nevertheless happy.”

In the case of Morocco, the recent deaths of eight women in childbirth sparked the initial protests. Also organizing via social media, young people have demonstrated for days, calling out the huge expenditure on football stadiums, while women and youth are marginalised, and their parents are denied decent health care.

They are demanding basic services including health and education, and an end to corruption, which, they argue, reigns at every level of state service. As in Madagascar, they express a love of their homeland and a deep commitment to freedom of speech.

Not willing to be sacrificed for football infrastructure, they demonstrate on the streets, supporting one another as they do. Volunteer doctors care for injured protesters, lawyers represent the victims for free, and communities provide food, in a context of serious risks of repression and state violence. The protests at two ends of the African continent are strikingly similar.

Colonial pasts

One root cause in Madagascar is perhaps clear. While French and international media may neglect this issue, addressing it transparently could have significant implications across Africa and beyond. In 2009, when Andry Rajoelina, then mayor of the capital, launched his first coup d’etat, he did so while taking refuge in the French embassy. In 2014, five years later, he became a naturalized French citizen. Since his coup in 2009 and presidency of Madagascar in 2018, there has been an influx of French businesses and influence in France’s former colony.

Apart from numerous anomalies in the 2023 presidential election, with protesters jailed and opposition harassed, Rajoelina is, according to Article 46 of the constitution, not allowed to have French citizenship as president of Madagascar. That a former colonial power should return to an independent country is unbearable for African youth.

Madagascar shed blood in 1947 when an anticolonial rebellion led to brutal repression across the country. Similar to the atrocities committed in Algeria in the late 1950s, the French military carried out mass violence in Madagascar between 1947 and 1949. This included executions, torture, rape, the destruction of entire villages, and the horrific practice of throwing live Malagasy prisoners from airplanes, which became known as “death flights.”

The number of casualties is difficult to confirm, but there are estimates that 100,000 Malagasy were killed, compared to hundreds of French nationals. This brutality and its lasting scars are documented in films such as Raymond Rajaonarivelo’s “Tabataba”  and novels such as Andry Andraina’s “Mitaraina ny tany,” (“The Earth is Lamenting”), and in the case of North Africa, in Gillo Pontecorvo’s film “The Battle of Algiers.”

And today, 65 years after independence, the Malagasy population demanded, albeit respectfully and peacefully, that France take their French president back, before he subsequently left on a French military plane. France bears its share of responsibility for the 2009 Malagasy crisis, and for the current one.  Reflecting on this could trigger wider self-reflection in European countries.

The failure of the French and European education systems to engage honestly with colonial pasts is part of a systemic problem of global injustice and oligarchical control over our media and the world’s resources. This amnesia feeds into the rise of the European far right today, perpetuates the extraction and destruction of former colonies, and exacerbates our collective global inequalities and ecological crises.

While common threads have been identified, the colonial factor has been largely ignored. Across Africa, young people feel an increasing sense of injustice that former colonial powers continue to exploit resources, economies and societies, with no recognition of past crimes and no accountability for those continuing legacies. This not only damages Africa and former colonies around the world, but also underpins the constant malaise, or what Alistair Horne described as a legacy of “poison” with violence and inequalities in Europe and its settler colonial partners.

African and global majority youth, from Madagascar to Morocco, from the Philippines to Nepal, have stood up to protest these searing inequalities and demand social justice. As they open our eyes to an opportunity for much wider reflection on the continuing effects of colonialism in the 21st century, they, and whatever transition processes follow, deserve our full support.

Originally published on Global Voices

Farzana Sithi. Image used with permission.

Farzana Sithi, a prominent student activist from Jessore, emerged as one of the defining faces of Bangladesh’s youth-led uprising in 2024. Known for her fiery speeches and determination to champion women’s rights, Sithi became a household name during the July to August 2024 protests that reshaped the nation’s political landscape and forced top government officials to step down. A student of the 2018-19 batch at the Government College of Applied Human Sciences and a volunteer with The Hunger Project, Bangladesh, she stood at the forefront of the anti-discrimination movement. Despite facing relentless online harassment and smear campaigns from different groups, her unyielding defiance made her a symbol of strength. Admirers across the country hailed her as the “Tigress” and “Iron Lady” of Bangladesh’s women’s resistance movement.

In this conversation with Abhimanyu Bandyopadhyay, Sithi reflects on the post-revolution reality, her outspoken advocacy, the commercialization of the July uprising, and the uncertain future of women’s safety in a country still grappling with the promises of change.

Abhimanyu Bandyopadhyay (AB): The first anniversary of the July uprising has just passed. How far do you think the movement’s core aspirations have been realized?

Farzana Sithi (FS): The uprising was, at its core, a collective stand against years of discrimination and authoritarian rule. When the regime finally collapsed, there was a genuine wave of hope across the country. People believed that, at last, Bangladesh could move toward a future free from discrimination — a nation where freedom of speech and the safety of its citizens would be upheld, not threatened, by the state.

But a year on, I have to say with deep disappointment that we're standing at zero progress. In fact, things are worse. Religious and gender-based discrimination are on the rise across the country. Public safety has collapsed, especially for women. Personally, I no longer feel safe when I step outside; there’s a constant sense of fear. Besides, public lynchings, mob violence, easy availability of illegal arms, and the routine harassment of women — these have all become disturbingly normal. Since August 5, 2024, violence has seeped into everyday life and settled there.

What’s even more heartbreaking is the way the revolution’s martyrs have been forgotten. The movement was built on the blood of our brave brothers and sisters, yet many of those killed remain unaccounted for. There is still no complete list of martyrs, DNA tests are unfinished, Families continue to plead for the most basic information, and they are met with silence. Of all the interim government’s failures, this is the most shameful: the refusal to honor the dead. And yet, the state throws concerts and commemorations, staging spectacle while denying grieving families the closure they desperately need.

AB: Sheikh Hasina [the former Prime Minister of Bangladesh who was forced to step down during the 2024 uprising] had long invoked the legacy of the Liberation War to legitimize the Awami League’s authoritarian rule. In your view, has the July Uprising undergone a similar process of political appropriation or commercialization over the past year?

FS: I’ve always believed that history offers us crucial lessons — if only we’re willing to learn from it. Take the Liberation War of 1971, for example. Millions laid down their lives for a free Bangladesh, yet once the Awami League resumed power in 2009, it began to treat that collective sacrifice as its own political property. Sadly, after the 2024 revolution, we began to witness the same pattern repeat itself. The blood and martyrdom of our thousands of brothers and sisters started being used for political gain.

New parties and alliances emerged around July, each claiming to be the true heir of the revolution. What followed were bitter conflicts over who the “real stakeholders” were, and in this battle for ownership, the very spirit of the revolution was betrayed. As Walter Benjamin famously said, “Behind every fascist there is a failed revolution.” And that’s the danger we face now. When those who rise after the fall of a fascist regime begin to mimic its ideals, language, and methods, they, too, risk becoming fascists in new clothes.

AB: Since August 5, 2024, we’ve witnessed a steady attempt to remove the women of July from the country’s post-revolution narrative. What’s your take on this process, and what does it say about Bangladesh’s struggle for gender equality today?

FS: The greatest strength of the July Uprising was the spontaneous and fearless participation of women from every corner of the country. In those final, tumultuous days of July, during the “Bangla Blockade” — when Hasina’s police forces and the Chhatra League were brutally attacking male protesters, it was the women of Bengal who broke through the barricades and stood as shields in front of them. Many of them were beaten and wounded, yet they refused to retreat. Their courage sustained the momentum of the movement. Without these women, I genuinely believe the uprising itself might not have been possible.

And yet, what followed was nothing short of betrayal. From August 5 onward, these same women began to be pushed aside, silenced, and attacked across every sphere. One of the greatest hopes after the uprising was that women would finally take their rightful place in politics, shaping policies and leading from the front. But that possibility was quickly shut down.

Take the Women’s Affairs Reform Commission report, for instance — it had recommended a specific quota for women candidates in the upcoming election. Through endless bargaining and backroom deals, that number was reduced from 35 percent to 10 percent, then to 5 percent, and finally fixed at 10 percent. And even then, they openly declared they couldn’t increase it further. That tells you everything. This is what the ruling powers fear most — women with real political agency. Their fear has taken the form of deliberate erasure, and we are witnessing that erasure unfold every single day.

AB: What's your opinion on the current state of women's safety in Bangladesh?

FS: Catastrophic! Women make up 51 percent of Bangladesh’s total population, yet since August 5, the scale of violence against them has reached an intensity I’ve never witnessed in my lifetime. Mob assaults, slut-shaming, sexual abuse — these have become frighteningly routine. Personally, I’ve faced relentless cyberbullying for over a year. When a government fails to ensure the safety of half its citizens, there’s no question — it is a failed government.

Frankly, I don’t believe the interim government can be described as women-friendly in any way. Since taking power, it has deliberately sidelined women and chosen to ignore the insecurity they face every day. The government did absolutely nothing. No condemnation, no discussion, no attempt to protect the Women's Affairs Reform Commission’s vision.

What’s even more disappointing is the silence of many political women leaders who rose to prominence after the revolution. Not one has raised a voice in protest. And yet, amidst this despair, there’s one undeniable truth that our women are still fighting. July became a symbol of strength for every woman in Bangladesh. We were there, we are here, and we will remain — and if the time comes again, we will not hesitate to return to the streets.

AB: Is this a new beginning of struggle for the women of Bangladesh?

FS: The struggle never ended. Bangladeshi Women have been on the battlefield since 1971; July simply reconnected us with that long, rebellious past. If the systematic attacks on women continue as they are now, we will return to the streets. But resistance without organization is fragile. Before anything else, we must rebuild unity, guard against diversionary tactics, and avoid getting pulled into manufactured disputes.

If we can reclaim that solidarity and articulate our demands firmly, change is possible. Pissed off women are definitely gonna bring change to this country.

Originally published on Global Voices

Screenshot from video ‘Sudan War Deepens as RSF Intensifies Attack, Several Women & Children Killed in Drone Strikes’ uploaded to YouTube by user WION. Fair use.

By Meera Selva

Editor's note: An earlier version of this article was pulled for security reasons. This updated version was published on October 28, 2025. 

Now more than ever, we need to talk about the importance of journalism. This is not about journalism as an abstract ideal, or as an industry fighting for survival, but as a living, breathing force that connects people to the information they need.

Protecting journalism is not just about saving newsrooms. It is about safeguarding people’s right to usable, trusted information, which is the very foundation of healthy societies everywhere.

It is literally about saving lives.

Because when information is deliberately and continually withheld from those who need it most, other human rights violations quickly follow.

In Sudan’s devastating multi-faceted war, a promising nascent journalism scene is being dismantled and weaponised. The journalists who reported with such energy about the political movements that upturned the old order had created a new, pluralistic, vibrant media sector. But with the start of the conflict in 2023, the information space has emerged as a parallel battlefield where warring parties readily spread disinformation and routinely suppress independent journalism.

What’s more, access to news is deeply unequal: women, displaced people, those with disabilities, and rural communities are often excluded from critical information because of poor connectivity and destroyed infrastructure. Military control of online spaces further restricts people’s access.

Sudan’s fragile information ecosystem reflects both the peril faced by journalists and the resilience of efforts to sustain independent reporting.

A report recently published by Internews has mapped the Sudanese media ecosystem, revealing the severe challenges this sector is facing, as well as the incredible and vital work that Sudanese journalists on the ground are carrying out for all of us.

Systematic attacks on media

Both the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) and the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) have destroyed media infrastructure, leaving journalists without livelihoods. Many self-censor, particularly around corruption and security agencies, while others have been forced to align with armed groups to survive.

Surveillance, cyber harassment, and arbitrary arrests under cybercrime laws are common. The result is a skills vacuum, with experienced journalists having fled, leaving behind less experienced individuals thrust into reporting roles.

The warring parties also maintain sophisticated media operations funded by their gold mining revenues. The war itself began with and continues to be sustained by information manipulation with false promises of quick victory and continued mobilisation narratives that prevent peace.

This underscores why neutrality is not an option. When propaganda is the engine of war, failing to challenge it means becoming complicit in its spread. Understanding how information is weaponised in Sudan is crucial because the same tactics are increasingly deployed across global conflicts to manipulate public opinion and obstruct peace.

The hollowing out of Sudan’s media isn’t just a local tragedy: it allows warlords to operate in the shadows, unchecked by scrutiny. Without accurate testimony, the international community cannot deliver the precise support Sudanese citizens desperately need to survive this conflict.

Evolving media consumption

As traditional media is dismantled, Sudanese audiences are turning to alternative sources, but these come with their own risks.

Public attitudes reveal a deep mistrust of traditional outlets. Many Sudanese now rely on personal networks, social media influencers, and citizen journalists, sources they sometimes deem more credible than official channels. Trust in local Sudanese media has also deteriorated significantly, with audiences demonstrating a clear preference for international outlets, particularly Gulf news outlets.

Despite their overt allegiances to factions within the conflict, such channels are widely consumed by Sudanese audiences, highlighting both the scarcity of independent alternatives and the urgent demand for reliable information.

Podcasts, livestreams, and citizen reporting dominate the information space. Both SAF and RSF aligned accounts readily circulate deepfakes, recycled footage, false casualty reports, and graphic images online, with posts often encouraging sectarian violence, particularly targeting the Darfuri and Nuba communities.

For Sudanese audiences, this distortion of the information space fuels real violence, entrenches mistrust between communities, and makes it nearly impossible for people to agree on a shared reality. Without credible alternatives, citizens are left vulnerable to manipulation that worsens both the conflict and the social fabric.

Exile journalism and grassroots initiatives

The war in Sudan has not only displaced millions, it has gutted the country’s information ecosystem. Over 1,000 journalists have lost their jobs, hundreds have fled to Uganda, Kenya, and Egypt, and those who remain risk their lives to report from hostile and perilous environments, including hot spots of fighting such as Darfur and the Nuba Mountain in the South Kordofan region. Working collaboratively with journalists in-country, exile media are keeping Sudan’s story alive, but with little funding and mounting pressure, their survival is precarious.

This matters far beyond Sudan. Information vacuums allow atrocities to go unrecorded, and disinformation is spread around the world via social media channels. When Sudanese reporters are silenced, others, often with political agendas, step in to rewrite the narrative. Campaigns like #KeepEyesOnSudan cut through this silence, ensuring the war isn’t forgotten.

Failing to support these efforts risks enabling further harm. Governments, NGOs, and global audiences must recognise Sudanese media for what it is: resistance, survival, and the last safeguard against the war’s total invisibility.

Beyond institutions: Strengthening ecosystems

Sudan’s information crisis reflects a global reality: where communities are under pressure, the need for reliable information grows stronger. Yet discussions about media often focus on institutions rather than people.

This is why media support must go beyond helping journalists. Strengthening whole ecosystems, including local outlets, digital platforms, and community leaders, ensures information remains trustworthy and resilient. Traditional organisational models may not be adequate; diverse, collaborative approaches are required. For Sudanese citizens, this means access to information they can rely on in moments when misinformation can cost lives.

International media development actors and NGOs must therefore act as intermediaries between journalists on the ground and institutional donors, ensuring sustained support beyond immediate crisis response. A long-term strategy is essential: one that builds professional capacity, supports public-interest journalism, and helps outlets adapt to rapidly changing conditions.

Investing in resilient media ecosystems is not a luxury; it is a necessity. It is a prerequisite for peace and justice.

Why it matters

Press freedom cannot be separated from the public’s right to information. When reporters are silenced, it is communities that suffer. When local outlets disappear, it is ordinary people who are left without the knowledge they need to navigate their lives. Defending journalism is not charity for journalists. It is a commitment to the health, security, and dignity of everyone who relies on trustworthy information.

The challenges are enormous. Yet the situation in Sudan, and countless other contexts across the globe, also reminds us of the enduring hunger for reliable information. People still turn to journalism, even under the harshest conditions. Our job is to make sure they find it.

That is why decision-makers and leaders in the media and information space must remain committed to being global, present, and engaged, even in places that are too often overlooked. In Sudan and beyond, journalism is not just a profession; it is a lifeline that we must protect. Because if information is the oxygen of democracy, then ensuring access to trusted, usable news is one of the most urgent tasks of our time.

Meera Selva is the chief executive officer of Internews Europe.

Originally published on Global Voices

Crowded book stalls in the Kech Cultural Festival. Image by Allah dad Azhar. Used with permission.

Festivals are celebrated across Pakistan, but a recent one in Turbat, the heart of the Kech district in southern Balochistan, Pakistan, felt truly remarkable. Turbat is a city often mentioned in the news for violence, security concerns, and tension between militant groups and security forces. In the midst of that difficult reality, the Kech Cultural Festival became a space for people to express creativity, celebrate culture, and come together in peace.

Balochistan has also been at the center of Pakistan’s long-running “missing persons” crisis, with hundreds of cases of alleged forced disappearances reported over the years. Local and international human rights groups, along with the Baloch Yakjehti Committee (BYC), have often blamed state institutions for their involvement in these cases, though the state continues to deny such allegations.

Because of these factors, media coverage of Turbat and Kech is often dominated by reports of conflict, protests, and human rights concerns, which makes the Kech Cultural Festival an extraordinary story of peace, creativity, and community resilience emerging from a region usually viewed through the lens of turmoil.

A community-led event

For three days, from October 1 to 3, 2025, the usually quiet Kech Museum and Cultural Center transformed into a vibrant hub of art, music, and cultural revival during the Kech Cultural Festival.

Global Voices interviewed Altaz Sakhi, secretary of the Kech Cultural Festival Committee, over the phone to discuss the event. Sakhi said the festival was warmly welcomed by the local community. People attended the events with enthusiasm, appreciated the activities, and praised the festival as a positive and creative initiative for the region.

What made this festival unique, however, was that it wasn’t a government-sponsored event — it was community-led. People across the region came together, and women participated equally with men, which is rarely seen in a deeply tribal, often patriarchal society like Balochistan.

“We expected five to six thousand visitors per day,” said Sakhi. “But on the first day, 18,000 people attended; on the second day, 22,000; and on the third, more than 40,000. By the end, nearly 80,000 people had joined from Turbat, Panjgur, and Gwadar.”

Families, children, and adults also traveled from Panjgur — about 249 kilometers from Turbat, a journey of roughly four hours by car — and from Gwadar, located around 158 kilometers away, or about two hours by road. Many came from these distant areas of Kech to take part in the festival.

Engaging discussions

Participants in a session at the Kech Cultural Festival. Image by Allah dad Azhar. Used with permission.

The Kech Cultural Festival featured a range of sessions on politics, education, poetry, and other topics. One of the most engaging and widely appreciated sessions focused on the role of social media in the region. The discussion, moderated by Sarfraz Shah, a local journalist from Turbat, included guest speakers Sabukh Saeed, a media trainer from Islamabad, and Baneesh Bakhsh, the first Baloch female television host, who traveled from Karachi to participate.

In a region often affected by internet shutdowns and censorship, the session examined the influence of traditional and social media, addressing issues such as misinformation, disinformation, and online addiction. They also mentioned how social media can be used to promote local brands in national and global markets.

Shah mentioned in the session that such discussions are vital for improving media literacy and empowering local communities to share their stories more effectively.

Despite frequent internet shutdowns and mobile disruptions in Turbat, organizers successfully held sessions on how media can empower youth and promote critical thinking. “We wanted to show our new generations — Gen Alpha and Gen Z — the traditional music, poetry, and local games that had almost disappeared,” Sakhi said.

A celebration of art and culture

The festival featured nearly 100 stalls showcasing everything from books and paintings to traditional food and perfumes. According to organizers, visitors spent more than PKR 6.2 million (USD 22,000) on books and art, breaking all previous records. “Books, paintings, and fragrances are all connected — they feed the soul,” Sakhi added.

Local journalist Sarfaraz Shah emphasized the festival’s social impact in a phone interview with Global Voices. “In a place like Turbat, where internet access and freedom of expression are restricted, holding a media literacy session was revolutionary,” he said. “It was also inspiring to see women’s strong participation — there wasn’t a single report of mismanagement or disorder. Everything went beautifully.”

Traditional Balochi games, such as Esh’t Chooki, which is one of the oldest and most beloved in Baloch culture, were also revived during the festival. Organizers said they aimed to reconnect younger generations, particularly Gen Z and Gen Alpha, who have grown distant from their cultural roots under the influence of social media, with traditional games and heritage.

Maalid, another ancient and cherished Balochi tradition, is a form of dance performed to express joy, love, and unity. Historically, it has been performed during moments of celebration or as a symbolic gesture of affection toward a beloved, friend, or spiritual guide. These displays gave the younger generation a glimpse into the rich cultural heritage of Balochistan.

Performance in the night at the Kech Cultural Festival. Image by Allah dad Azhar. Used with permission.

“Even political rivals sat together in harmony,” Shah noted. “It was a message of unity and peace from a region often misunderstood by the rest of the country.”

For Yasmeen Ghani, a young visitor from Turbat, the experience was both overwhelming and inspiring. “On the final day, the crowd was so large that people could barely find space to stand,” she recalled during a WhatsApp interview with Global Voices. “One young woman I met had set up a small business stall and sold out everything — she hadn’t expected such a response.”

Ghani shared that beautifully embroidered traditional Balochi dresses were also on display at the festival. These outfits, known for their intricate handwork and vibrant designs, ranged in price from PKR 8,000–300,000 (USD 30–1,000), reflecting the skill, time, and cultural value invested by local artisans.

“Most of the food and art stalls were run by women,” Ghani added. “This festival proved that women in Turbat are not confined at home — they are creative, confident, and capable.”

For decades, the news coverage of Balochistan has largely focused on security issues. Festivals like the Kech Cultural Festival, which celebrate unity, peace, and a love of knowledge, seldom make the news.

Highlighting such events can offer a positive counter-narrative, challenging misconceptions about Baloch culture and the people of the region and promoting a culture of hope and resilience.

Originally published on Global Voices

Gen Z protesters in front of Bharatpur Mahanagarpalika office, Nepal. September 2025. Photo by Himal Subedi, via Wikimedia Commons (CC BY-SA 4.0).

Weeks after police shot into a crowd of student demonstrators in September, killing at least 19 people, the smoke still hung over Kathmandu, Nepal’s capital. The streets, once filled with schoolchildren, were now occupied by armed soldiers.

What started as a protest against a social media ban wasn’t solely about TikTok or Facebook. It was the emergence of long-held frustrations and a reckoning with a century of instability and corruption.

The Gen Z protesters in Nepal inherited a democracy their grandparents fought for, and watched with their parents as it unraveled. To understand the anger of 2025, you must review a history characterized by kings, revolutions, and continual demands for accountability.

For much of modern history, Nepal was governed by kings. The Rana dynasty seized power in 1848, establishing an oligarchy that isolated Nepal for over a century. Education was limited to elites, and the general Nepali population had little say in government.

Autocracy and the Panchayat system

After World War II, inspired by India’s independence, Nepali exiles began to form opposition parties. A revolt in 1951, backed by King Tribhuvan, ended Rana rule and opened Nepal’s borders.

Within a year, King Mahendra dissolved parliament, banned parties, and imposed the autocratic Panchayat system. For the next 30 years, Nepal was governed by a complicated hierarchy of councils that reported directly to the crown. Political dissidents or challengers to the crown were either jailed or exiled. News media were heavily censored, but some dissent still survived underground.

The 1990 People’s Movement

Protest during the 1990 People’s Movement, Kathmandu, Nepal. Photo by Min Ratna Bajracharya, via Wikimedia Commons (CC BY-SA 4.0).

As the 1980s drew to a close, the economy was stagnant, government corruption was rampant, and a new generation of students was demanding change. Following weeks of mass action in 1990 by the People’s Movement, or Jana Andolan I, King Birendra agreed to return to a multiparty democracy.

A new constitution established a constitutional monarchy and civil liberties.

Political instability and the Maoist insurgency

However, euphoria quickly turned to disappointment. Governments changed with great consistency; in the decade from 1991 to 2001, a prime minister was appointed and dismissed more than a dozen times. Political parties split into factions that sought to hold power rather than craft policy.

As inequality deepened and rural communities lost faith in politicians who failed to deliver roads, electricity, or jobs, space opened for a radical alternative. In 1996, the Communist Party of Nepal (Maoist) launched an armed rebellion demanding the end of the monarchy, as well as land reform and social justice. The conflict engulfed much of the countryside, leaving over 17,000 dead by the early 2000s.

The 2001 royal massacre and Gyanendra’s rule

The country then faced a national trauma when, in 2001, there was a royal massacre. Crown Prince Dipendra reportedly shot and killed King Birendra, Queen Aishwarya and nine other royals before turning the gun on himself; he was said to be intoxicated at the time.

King Gyanendra assumed the throne and, in 2005, dissolved parliament, declaring a state of emergency, which united opposition political parties, civil society, and the Maoists.

In 2006, during mass protests referred to as Jana Andolan II, Gyanendra was forced to step down. By 2008, the monarchy was finally abolished. Nepal became a federal democratic republic, and the former Maoist leaders became parliamentarians.

The new republic and constitution

Map of Nepal showing its seven provinces. Image by SimulationWig, via Wikimedia Commons (CC BY-SA 4.0).

The new republic gave rise to great hope. The first constituent assembly was set up to draft a constitution that would guarantee representation for women, Dalits, Indigenous groups, and Madhesi groups.

However, the process took seven years, marked by disputes among the elites. It was after the assembly was dissolved twice that it finally adopted a new constitution in 2015.

The new document established a federal regime dividing Nepal into seven provinces and also provided for rights and inclusion. However, the document was created amid controversy, and many marginalized groups said they were excluded.

Political corruption and growing inequality

Over the next few years, the country cycled through coalitions of the same people, including K.P. Sharma Oli, Sher Bahadur Deuba, and Pushpa Kamal Dahal, known as “Prachanda,” in roles as prime ministers and each, without exception, said they would deliver reforms, but either had their assets challenged or misappropriated with patronage or corruption.

As migration increased, nearly 14 percent of the population was now working outside the country, and remittances had become the country’s economic lifeline. But the gap between rich and poor was expanding. Schools and hospitals in rural areas were deteriorating, while the elite flaunted their wealth.

Social media became both a salve and a reflection, a place where frustration brewed, as hashtags like #NepoKids and #YouthsAgainstCorruption highlighted elite privileges.

By 2024, the Nepali economy was suffocated by inflation, youth unemployment and political stagnation. The government’s response was not to improve through reforms, but to impose new regulations that restricted online platforms and digital publishers.

The student-led protests of 2025

In early September, student groups began organizing through encrypted apps and offline groups. Within days, thousands of students marched in Kathmandu, Pokhara and Lalitpur.

They held signs, like “Stop corruption, not social media.” Many were teenagers raised on stories of the democracy movement, but having only experienced dysfunction.

When crowds grew outside parliament, police fired tear gas and then live rounds. Hospitals were flooded with students in school uniforms. At least 19 people were dead, according to local media and human rights organizations. The government imposed a curfew period, shut down mobile networks, and deployed army forces.

That night, as public anger erupted, the Home Minister resigned. The cabinet reversed the ban, but protests spread beyond Kathmandu as anger ignited over inequality and corruption.

In the upheaval that ensued, mobs attacked government buildings and politicians’ homes. Former Prime Minister Deuba and his wife, Arzu Rana Deuba, were rescued by the army after protesters stormed their residence.

Interim leadership and calls for accountability

Sushila Karki at the US-Nepal Summit for Democracy, 2021. Photo by U.S. Embassy Kathmandu, via Wikimedia Commons (Public domain).

With the capital under military lockdown, President Ram Chandra Poudel appointed former Chief Justice Sushila Karki as interim prime minister, making her Nepal’s first woman to hold this position.

Karki, 73, is a retired Supreme Court justice known for her anti-corruption rulings. Her appointment had the endorsement of the youth representatives who helped lead the protests.

Karki’s caretaking government has congratulated itself on the pledge to investigate the killings, restore order and hold new elections in March 2026; whether or not that counts for building trust is another question entirely.

Continuity and hope: Lessons from history

Nepal’s history has been one of surges followed by stagnation: revolution, hopes, paralysis. Every time, from 1951 to 1990 to 2006, the revolution brought down an old order but then failed to generate sustainable change.

For Gen Z, the challenge is whether the moment can achieve its breakthrough. The movement has already made history: by holding accountable, by getting a woman to the highest position in the country, and by making it clear that civic action is still possible in a compromised system.

The streets of Kathmandu are silent, but tension remains. Students are still keeping vigils every night in memory of the deaths. The university walls are covered with graffiti saying, “If not now, when?”

Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International have called for independent inquiries into the actions of the police and military. The military maintains it acted to protect public order, noting many involved were minors.

In her first statements as interim prime minister, Karki urged calm during this time of unrest. “Change must come through institutions, not fire,” she stated. But she also expressed agreement that young Nepalis were “right to demand dignity and opportunity.”

It remains to be seen whether the protests will mark the beginning of a journey towards reform or simply be the latest chapter in Nepal’s long narrative of hope and disappointment.

But there is one constant; every one of our movements since the fall of the Ranas has been driven by students who believed their country could be better. By that measure, the protests in 2025 were in no way a break from history; instead, they were a continuation of it.

Originally published on Global Voices

Naro Omo-Osagie, Africa Policy and Advocacy Manager at Access Now. Photo by Jean Sovon. Used with permission

The protection of citizens’ privacy online is often intertwined with issues of national security in Africa. One solution that can help circumvent digital threats is encryption, where readable data is translated into an unreadable format, protecting people's privacy and ensuring sensitive information is hidden from unauthorized access. However, even as it is one of the safest, most essential cybersecurity practices, encryption faces several restrictions or is outright banned in many African nations.

Many countries on the continent have laws governing digital use and privacy protection. With some notable exceptions, such as Mozambique and Algeria, most countries in Africa utilize anti-encryption policies and can force citizens to share their encrypted files without a guarantee of privacy or due process.

The regulatory policy governing encryption in some African countries, rather than protecting populations, tends to favor restricting and prohibiting its use. Any citizen who refuses to cooperate with public authorities or to hand over encryption codes while their use is prohibited is liable to penalties. In Benin, the penalty is between USD 886 and USD 35,460 and imprisonment between six months and five years; in Malawi, it is USD 6,307 and seven years in prison; in Ethiopia, the law provides for between USD 2,251 and USD 3,376 and a prison sentence of 10 to 15 years. Given these steep penalties, citizens are not protected against various digital threats: hacking, harassment, stalkers, and targeting by the authorities.

Few people are aware of the protection offered by data and chat encryption. One reason for this is that African media offers little coverage of encryption and threats in digital spaces. Global Voices interviewed Naro Omo-Osagie, Africa Policy and Advocacy Manager at Access Now, at the Forum on Internet Freedom in Africa, held in Windhoek, Namibia, from September 24 to 26, to discuss the issue of encryption and digital security.

Jean Sovon (JS): Why is it so important for the media to cover encryption?

Naro Omo-Osagie (NOO): Encryption is ultimately about our safety and privacy, both online and off. The way that the media covers encryption is important. The reason is because when anti-encryption policies are proposed by governments, governments usually frame these policies in support of national security, child online protection, and many times the dominant narrative is that of  the government. If you allow that to be the only story, to be the single story, then everyone who is engaging with this topic only knows the narrative that the government is presenting, which is that encryption is dangerous for national security.  Technology researchers, civil society, human rights organizations including Access Now have shown this is incorrect.

So it's important that the media presents an objective story based on facts, and the only way to do that is to cover human rights and civil society perspectives. This is the work of privacy lawyers, privacy advocates, encryption experts, who actually explain that encryption makes us safer. Encryption helps protect our security both online and offline. Encryption is important for privacy, and privacy is a human right.

Our cybersecurity efforts are what keep us safer online: It's the right to be sure that when I send you a message, you receive that message, you receive the exact message that I sent to you, and it only goes to who I want it to go to without a third party interfering or having access to it.

It's also connected to our rights to freedom of expression, because in order to express myself freely without the fear that authorities or others can read my messages or manipulate them.

JS: Why are these governments’ narratives opposing encryption so prevailing?  

NOO: For a very long time, the dominant story has been the government's narrative that encryption undermines national security. This is the knowledge that media people retain about encryption.

So there's a lot of work for us to do as privacy advocates to challenge and address this narrative. It starts with supporting media education, journalist training, helping journalists understand the technical aspects of encryption, helping them understand the privacy concepts, and the human rights justifications for encryption. Of course, I don't imagine it will be easy.

JS: So what advice do you have for the media to better engage with this issue? 

NOO: The first would be, and I think this is a general principle of media coverage and reporting anywhere, is to always present an objective story based on facts, not based on government patronage. One should challenge what the government has said.

Really ask yourself, what are the other positions? What do civil society and human rights groups say about these policies? Is there an alternative narrative that we need to consider in our reporting? That is the first step.

As a media organisation, as a journalist, ask yourself:  Is there anybody I can talk to who may have an alternative perspective? As far as possible, you should present an objective and objective story that is based on facts, that is based on research that has been done by human rights organisations, research that has been done by technical cybersecurity experts that show how encryption works, that show how encryption protects all of us, and see how this sits with the narratives that government has shown.

Originally published on Global Voices

Nick stands in front of a mural of Alexandros Grigoropoulos, a 15-year-old whose 2008 police shooting sparked nationwide riots in Greece, in Exarchia, a contemporary Athenian neighbourhood known as a hub of resistance culture. Photo by the author, used with permission.

Athens-based horror artist Nikos Tragganidas Posazennikov, more commonly known as Nick, channels his political outrage into comics that confront government corruption, authoritarian abuse, and the neglect of ordinary citizens. Raised in a politically engaged family, Nick was discouraged from pursuing an art career. However, he followed his own path as a comic book artist, animator, and musician.

We met in Exarchia, a self-proclaimed “working-class” neighborhood that has long been at the center of protests, gentrification, and cultural resistance, to talk about his upbringing, politics, and his new comic book, which places Exarchia at the heart of the story.

GV: What drew you into comic book writing and artistic work?

Nick: Like most artists I know, I grew up with comic books. Drawing was one of the first things I did, so it came naturally. Later, I leaned more toward music, but art was always part of my life, I even made comics for fun as a teenager.

When I entered high school, I had to decide what to study. My parents said, ‘You have to do something that makes money, a real profession.’ I tried, but it didn’t work for me. So I chose art full-time. At first, I thought I’d focus on illustration because it sells better. But I ended up back where I began, with comic books. I love writing, and I love drawing.

Nick sketches in the streets of Exarchia, capturing the neighborhood’s spirit. Photo by the author, used with permission.

GV: What message do you try to convey with your work?

Nick: I started as a horror artist and didn’t expect my work to become so political. I always wanted to have a message, but early on, I didn’t know what direction to take because I was still learning how to draw.

Then Tempi happened, and I was furious. That was the first time I created a piece about a specific event. It was cathartic, I felt I was contributing to the broader conversation about these issues.

After October 7, 2023 [the start of Israel's ongoing war against Gaza], I created pieces about Palestine, and it snowballed from there. I still consider myself a horror artist, but now I focus on a different kind of horror; the horror of real life and the political landscape.

The Tempi train crash occurred in February 2023 in Greece, when a passenger train collided head-on with a freight train, killing 57 people, and making it the country’s deadliest rail disaster on record. The ensuing scandal exposed years of negligence, corruption, and underfunding in Greece’s railway safety systems, leading to public outrage and political fallout.

GV: When you say “horror” as your art style, what do you mean?

Nick: I started by wanting to create scary scenes — tension, heavy shadows, supernatural beings — and that’s still part of my work.

But now I want to show the misery of our reality and portray the point of view of the victims, as best I can. When we talk about things like police brutality or genocide, it’s easy to lose sight of individual people. I try to capture their emotions, their faces, their reactions. That’s what drives the horror element of my work today.

 

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Nick shares his work to raise awareness of the tragedies in Palestine, not only the ongoing violence but also issues like femicide and financial exploitation.

GV: What is the work you are most proud of so far?

Nick: My latest comic ‘Vile Hunter.’

Back in high school, I loved the comic series ‘Hellblazer,’ which stars John Constantine, a British magician and exorcist. It combined supernatural horror with sharp political commentary, and I fell in love with it.

That inspired me to develop my own ideas. The first draft of ‘Vile Hunter’ was written back in high school; it was much less political then, mostly supernatural. Over time, it evolved into what it is now.

 

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GV: Your comic blends horror with social critique. What inspired you to tackle issues like femicides and state violence through this genre?

Nick: In horror stories, ghosts usually exist because of a tragedy — a murder or an accident — and the solution is always to banish the ghost. But that felt empty to me. The systemic problems that led to the tragedy persist.

Take the common trope of a husband killing his wife, and she becomes a ghost. The story ends when the ghost disappears, but what about the femicide that caused it? I wanted to flip that and create a character who recognizes that to stop hauntings. You need to stop the injustices behind them: femicides, wrongful arrests, state violence.

GV: Tell us about this main character.

Nick: His name is Mac. At first, I designed him as a kind of generic protester, unpolished and ordinary. People joked he looked like me, but, really, he’s more of an everyman, a politically aware but not deeply organized figure. He represents the many people who share radical ideas but feel intimidated by formal movements.

GV: Is he an anti-hero?

Nick: Not exactly. He’s not perfect, but not because he’s morally gray; more because he’s unprepared. He reacts like most of us would: with fear, confusion, and even disgust. There’s a scene where he sees a magically mutilated corpse, and he throws up. He’s something audiences could relate to, not a stoic superhero.

GV: So it’s not a superhero comic?

Nick: Not at all. It’s a mystery horror with supernatural and comedic elements. Life is both terrifying and absurd. Sometimes you laugh, sometimes you’re scared. I wanted Mac to reflect that.

GV: Why did you choose Exarchia as the setting for the story?

Nick: I wanted to talk about police brutality and gentrification, two issues that affect me and most people around me. At first, I thought about setting it in my hometown, Korydallos, which is also a victim of gentrification but rarely discussed.

But when people hear ‘Exarchia,’ those two issues, police brutality and gentrification, immediately come to mind. So to make the story more accessible and set the tone, I chose Exarchia as the backdrop.

GV: Without giving too much away, what is the overall message behind the comic?

Nick: I wanted to show almost in a dark fairy-tale way how gentrification and police brutality rot a neighborhood from the inside.

The tagline is ‘The Flowers of Pain’ — intentionally so. These issues are deeply rooted. It’s not just about businesses closing or hotel and retail store chains opening; the entire mood of a neighborhood changes. Rents rise, it becomes unsafe or unaffordable for locals, and the original authentic way of life disappears.

I wanted to communicate that, but in a way that would reach people who might otherwise be turned off by overtly political language. Horror and supernatural mystery draw them in; then, they start to understand the deeper issues.

GV: With everything going on in Greece at the moment, do you see any hope for the future?

Nick: I think a politically engaged person has to hold on to hope, even when it feels almost impossible, because without hope there’s no reason to keep fighting.

There’s a chant we often use at protests that I really love: ‘Even if we lose, we keep fighting.’ That’s the point: we fight because we must, not because victory is guaranteed.

If I’m being realistic, I don’t expect things to get better in my lifetime, or in the lifetimes of many people I know. But that doesn’t mean we stop. If I can make life harder for the bosses, the cops, and the politicians who keep creating these problems, then I’ll keep doing whatever I can.

GV: If you could send a message to others in the struggle, what would it be?

Nick: Keep fighting.

Keep creating art. Art is a crucial part of resisting oppression — though sometimes even movements underestimate it. People often ignore articles or even photos and videos from real atrocities, because they’re too uncomfortable.

But art reaches them differently. I once spoke with an artist from Gaza who changed my perspective. You can see countless photos from Gaza, but one drawing by a Palestinian artist can communicate emotions more personal and direct.

That’s why I believe we must keep making art — make it as political as possible, promote artists, and never stop fighting.

Nick works on his sketch in the streets of Exarchia. Photo by the author, used with permission.

We ended the interview and wandered through Exarchia as night settled over the neighborhood. There was a quiet weight to Nick’s conviction; an unshaken faith in political activism. Greece faces grave challenges, but through works of political art like Nick’s, the world may begin to see reality from a different angle: one shaped by solidarity, and persistence as a political being.

Originally published on Global Voices

Photo by Kremlin.ru, CC BY 4.0, CC BY 4.0 Wikipedia commons.

The ‘white lists’ of Russian internet censorship

The Russian government has been seriously restricting the formerly free RuNet for at least 10 years, creating an extensive list of websites and platforms that internet providers have to block within Russia. Except it is doing something strikingly different now. This year the Russian authorities created a ‘white list’ of websites that are not to be blocked, while everything else would not be available for users in Russia. For now, this is only supposed to work when ‘mobile’  internet is shut down. But experts do not doubt that this is the future that awaits Russian internet users, turning the country into a version of North Korea, and the internet into “inside-net.”

The invention of white lists is supposedly connected to multiple and long-term mobile internet shut downs that have been going on in Russia for the most part of 2025. Pretext for these shutdowns is that allegedly, Ukrainian drones that blow up Russian oil infrastructure use mobile Internet to identify targets. According to Telegram Chanel “Na svyazi” which follows daily mobile internet shut downs, for example, on September 27, 2025, 54 regions of Russia reported mobile internet shutdowns. And in 30 regions, along with mobile internet shutdowns, white lists of available websites were also implemented.  

The internet sources included in the white lists are only Russia-based.  At the moment of writing this article, those included are:  

• websites of the Russian government and the Presidential Administration, 
•  Gosuslugi services (Russia’s official e-government portal for public services, like passports, taxes, healthcare)
• some online  bank services
• local social media platform VK and messenger Max, 
• platform Mail Ru (email provider and news aggregator)
• the system for online voting in Russian elections 
• Yandex services  (Russian tech company’s ecosystem: search engine, maps, mail, taxi, etc.), Ozon and Wildberries marketplaces (major Russian online shopping platforms similar to Amazon)
• mobile/network operators 
• Avito  (popular Russian classifieds site for selling/buying goods, renting apartments, jobs), Yandex Zen (content and blogging platform with personalized news and articles) 
• Rutube (Russian video hosting platform, similar to YouTube)
• official website of the Mir payment system (national Russian payment card system an alternative to Visa/Mastercard)
•  KinoPoisk (Russian movie and TV platform for streaming, ratings, and film information — similar to IMDb + Netflix) 
• Two of Russia’s largest supermarket/grocery store groups 
•  2GIS (Russian digital maps and city directory service with detailed business listings and navigation — like Google Maps plus a business directory)

As of now, the white lists are only expected to be applied during mobile internet shutdowns.  But looking at the large spectrum of services they cover, these might also be implemented for all internet connections in Russia.  

Mikhail Klimarev, head of the NGO League for the free Internet, said in an interview to Global Voices that he expects that these measures could be realized in about three years. 

Internet censorship is now censoring infrastructure in Russia

In addition, Russian authorities have already declared a war on VPNs: they use DPI to identify and block many common VPN protocols. Along with that, the Russian president Vladimir Putin signed an executive order prohibiting the advertisement of VPN services everywhere in Russia. 

Recently, the Russian government started to block all particular sources of traffic, so they can identify whether it might be internet calls, gaming, streaming or even VPNs.  This means that even before the white lists are introduced, the government is already cutting off communication with the outside world for a lot of people in Russia — or at least at the moment, voice communications via the internet.

On August 11, 2025, Russian users began reporting problems with WhatsApp and Telegram calls. Connections became unstable, with entire sentences dropping out, making conversations nearly impossible to continue. Using VPNs did not  improve call quality.

As Denis Yagodin, former Director of Innovations at Russian NGO in exile Teplitsa. Technologies for Social Good, wrote in his LinkedIn post, these are not app-specific crackdowns.

Russia isn't targeting these platforms individually – they're systematically dismantling the technical infrastructure that makes free internet communications, including voice calls, possible. Through deep packet inspection (DPI), Russian censors can identify and throttle VoIP protocols regardless of which app you're using. It's protocol-level censorship, not app-level blocking.

The technical mechanics are elegant in their simplicity. Every messenger – whether it's WhatsApp, Telegram, Signal, or Viber – relies on the same underlying technologies for voice calls: VoIP protocols, WebRTC for browser-based calling, and UDP/TCP data streams for audio transmission. Russia's censor can now use DPI to scan packet signatures and identify VoIP traffic patterns in real-time. They don't need to know if you're using WhatsApp or Telegram; they just need to recognize that you're making an internet call and block it at the protocol level. It's like cutting all the phone lines instead of disconnecting individual phones.

This creates a perfect storm of plausible deniability. Since Signal and Viber are already banned, and most Russians primarily use WhatsApp and Telegram for calls, the broader public assumes these specific apps are being targeted. Meanwhile, the real casualty is the basic ability to make free voice calls to anywhere in the world. What looks like app-specific censorship is actually infrastructure-level control – a blueprint that other governments are studying with interest.

National messenger which cooperates with authorities

The “national messenger,”, which has been developed by state-affiliated domestic social media platform VK, has immediately acquired a reputation of being a surveillance machine that would keep all one’s messages, calls and search and give them to the authorities freely.  In addition, “Max,” as the new messenger is called, will at the moment only work with Russian or Belarusian SIM cards, which means that those living abroad would not be able to use it. Even if Russians who emigrated in hundreds of thousands after the full scale invasion of Ukraine started (and some before that) can get a hold of Russian SIM card, there is a new initiative of Roskomnador, that would block calls from Russian SIM cards on roaming or foreign SIM cards on both messengers as well as mobile phone calls. 

Nevertheless, the Max app is currently present in both Google Play Store and App Store in Russia. 

Screenshot of Messenger Max in the Google play store in Russia. Fair use.

Further attack on Instagram and Facebook creators

One of the last laws that came in force this autumn prohibits any kind of advertisement on Facebook and Instagram in Russia, since Meta was declared an extremist organization and blocked in the spring of 2022.  However, Instagram remained a popular platform for non-political bloggers, who continued to cooperate with brands and advertising agencies. According to the Russian Association of Communication Agencies (AKAR), the blogger market on Instagram alone amounted to RUB 11.5 billion (about USD 130 million ) in 2024.

Timeline of Russian internet censorship

According to online opposition media outlet Meduza, a brief and incomplete timeline of the most important internet censorship actions of the Russian government starts in 2015.  

• The first large scale victims were copyright-related (which is similar to the way Western countries dealt with platform regulation: copyright was the first reason for moderating content as well). Russia’s most popular torrent tracker, RuTracker,  and the largest online library, Flibusta, were blocked in 2015. 
• The first foreign social media platform that was blocked in Russia was LinkedIn in 2016. Officially, the reason was because the platform did not store the data of users within Russia. However, it did not have a lot of Russian users (around only 6 million in 2016), and the blocking went almost unnoticed.  
• Further on, in 2018, the government attempted to block Telegram messenger and succeeded only in part, but in 2020, authorities lifted the ban, claiming Telegram was ready to fight “terrorism and extremism.”
•  In 2021, there was a government crackdown on Tor Browser (a popular anonymity tool), and they also began blocking VPN services (later banned in dozens). 
• After the full-scale invasion of Ukraine started in 2022, the government, under the pretense of war-time censorship, started to block many more internet sources and platforms.
•  In 2022, authorities blocked Facebook and Instagram, fully blocked Twitter (which had previously only been slowed down), Chess.com (largest online chess platform), Patreon (subscription platform for creators), Google News (but not Google search), and most independent Russian media sites.
• The next phase started in 2024 and continued all through 2025. The government blocked messengers Viber, Discord, and Signal (popular secure messenger) and began partially blocking WhatsApp and Telegram. YouTube became practically inaccessible. It blocked Ficbook (largest Russian fanfiction website). 
• In 2025, sites using Cloudflare (which helps bypass censorship without VPN) were disrupted.  
• In the summer of 2025, a nationwide blocking of WhatsApp was announced, with authorities planing to replace it with a “national messenger.” 
• Mikhail Klimarev does not doubt that Telegram, too, will be blocked in the near future. 

Russia is moving, no, running towards an inside-net. Not only access to news and  information, but even to people-to people communication with those from abroad, is shrinking day by day. Klimarev is afraid that, when Telegram is blocked, it will be harder to inform people about VPNs that they and other activists offer for people within Russia. Opposition media, computer savvy immigrants, and NGOs are selling or giving out access to smaller VPNs with unknown protocols spread around hundreds of servers. This is a game of cat and mouse with the Russian authorities, who periodically find and block these VPNs, too.  But it works — for now.  However, if the Russian government finally decides to turn the country into a North Korea, VPNs would be useless. 

Originally published on Global Voices

Gen Z Madagascar logo. Used with permission.

For years, Madagascar has faced repeated social crises, primarily due to frequent power outages and water supply cuts in homes lasting hours, if not days. These circumstances have been a source of frustration, sparking fresh protests in the country in September 2025.

Most people usually remain quiet about these cuts, primarily out of fear of arrest or reprisal from the government. However, infuriated young people, part of Generation Z,  called for protests through the spontaneous movement “Leo Délestage” (Fed Up With Electricity Cut-Offs).

The call for peaceful demonstrations was shared widely on social media, attracting thousands of people to protest peacefully against the daily outages in Antananarivo, the capital of Madagascar, and several other regions, and reclaim their fundamental right to water and electricity. The situation took a violent turn with disorderly behavior and late-night unrest, leaving several injured and at least five dead, including two children.

Fragile infrastructure

In Madagascar, the state-owned company Jirama is responsible for producing and distributing electricity and drinking water to the country's 30 million residents. However, fluctuating water levels during the dry season, dilapidated facilities, and hydraulic dams that do not provide enough water are leaving citizens thirsty and without regular utility access.

In Antananarivo, some districts experience several hours of power outages, and many residents don’t receive any or very little running water. Tankers and emergency tankers fall short, and well water, which is often untreated, becomes the only option available.

Due to a lack of water, residents line up with their containers in front of public pumps, which only provide a trickle of water and open at set times. Also, the water is subject to a fee: MGA 2,000  (about USD 0.50) for 20 litres.

Containers lined up for water supplies. Photo taken from the Ny vaovaon'ny Kolo TV Facebook account. Photo used with permission.

State violence

On September 25, 2025, the authorities banned the protest scheduled to take place in Ambohijatovo public park in Antananarivo, but protesters defied these restrictions. Although demonstrations remained peaceful, the authorities fired tear gas and deployed an extensive security force presence, making several arrests. Witnesses report cases of physical violence against the protesters, including online influencers.

This TV5 Monde video shows tear gas being fired when protesters attempted to enter Ambohijatovo stadium to protest:

A protester in the video stated:

Nous avons besoin d’électricité, les entrepreneurs n’en peuvent plus.

We need electricity; businesspeople can’t take much more.

The signs that protesters held up read messages such as: “Let us express our rights,” “People are fed up with power outages,” and “We don’t want trouble, just recognition of our rights.”

Protesters holding up signs. Photo: MaybeMatchbox, used with permission

Looting and curfews imposed

At nightfall on September 25, looting broke out in several districts of Antananarivo. In response, the Analamanga region Police Chief, Angelo Ravelonarivo, announced a dusk-to-dawn curfew from 7 pm to 5 am, to remain in force until calm was restored.

Despite this restriction, acts of vandalism continued throughout the night. Looters targeted supermarkets, shopping malls, and banks, taking advantage of the complete absence of law enforcement to loot everything they could. Fires were started in various places, sparking great concern among residents.

Shops set ablaze. Photo: Rossana Lanja, used with permission

Reactions on social media

Internet users shared their feelings, various images, and pleas for help online. These posts simultaneously reflect their outrage, fatigue, and hopes for youth-led change within the country.

This video of a woman, reportedly named Alissa, who is the mother of a three-month-old baby, crossing the police roadblock on her quad bike has circulated widely on social networks, especially Facebook.

Although people praised her boldness, calling her a courageous woman, she was soon arrested. Fitiavana Mickael, a Malagasy influencer who police arrested and released the following day, called for this woman’s release.

Je demande également la libération d'Alissa car c'est une mère qui a réclamé la justice.

I also demand Alissa’s release, as she is a mother calling for justice.

Following this appeal and that of other internet users, she was released.

On Facebook, Ohappydeal.mg, one of the vandalized businesses, expressed its sadness over these events:

« Ce que j’ai construit en 12 ans est parti en un clin d’œil.
Ça fait mal
J’accepte ta volonté, Seigneur »

What I built over 12 years is gone in the blink of an eye.
That hurts
I accept your will, Lord

Many professionals have spoken out, expressing their solidarity, outrage, and even calling for tangible solutions to this crisis. On LinkedIn, Malagasy citizen Lalaina Minah Ranaivomanana posted:

Je suis de cette fameuse Gen Z de Madagascar .
Nous avons trimé pour trouver du travail, et lorsqu'on en a eu un, on nous prend 20% de notre salaire. La majorité d'entre nous ont du mal à joindre les deux bouts. Mais nous payons nos impôts de bon coeur POUR NOTRE PAYS.
Nous payons les factures d'eau et d'électricité. Nous essayons tous de donner de notre personne et de faire de notre mieux.

Pourtant :
Nous n'avons que 3 heures d'électricité par jour
Nous devons attendre 1H à 3H du matin pour avoir de l'eau : une longue queue pour ESPERER remplir nos bidons jaunes
Nous ne sommes pas en sécurité dans notre propre pays

Nous n'avons pas engagé de violence !
Nous ne voulons pas provoquer les forces de l'ordre ! D'ailleurs nous avons pensé qu'ils étaient là pour nous protèger

Nous voulons juste DE L'EAU ET DE L'ÉLECTRICITÉ. Nous ne faisons que FAIRE VALOIR NOS DROITS !

I am part of Madagascar’s famous Gen Z .
We worked hard to find work, but when we did, they took 20 percent of our salary. Although we readily pay our taxes FOR OUR COUNTRY, most of us struggle to make ends meet.
We pay water and electricity bills. We all try to pay our dues and do our best.

However:
We only have three hours of electricity per day
We have to wait one to three hours in a long line for water, HOPING to fill our yellow containers
We are not safe in our own country

We didn’t engage in violence! We didn’t want to provoke the police! In fact, we thought they were there to protect us 

We just want WATER AND ELECTRICITY. We are only ASSERTING OUR RIGHTS!

Also on LinkedIn, Santatra Rakotovao shared how the power outages affect her freelance work, appealing to human rights defenders and international legal experts to monitor the situation closely:

Tu t’étonnes que les réunions en ligne depuis Madagascar soient souvent retardées ou même annulées ?
Essaie de pitcher ton client quand la lumière s’éteint sans prévenir.

Essaie de livrer un projet quand tu dois d’abord faire la queue avec des bidons parce qu’il n’y a pas d’eau au robinet.

Ici, le peuple paie ses factures.
Mais au lieu de services, il récolte coupures, obscurité, soif et VIOLENCE.

Et malgré ça, certains osent encore dire aux freelances Malgache :
« Ton travail vaut 200 € maximum. »
Comme si survivre dans ces conditions ne demandait pas une force et une résilience hors norme.

À Madagascar, ce n’est pas du low cost.
C’est du talent bridé par l’injustice.
C’est une jeunesse qui devrait créer, mais qui se bat juste pour allumer la lumière et remplir un verre d’eau.

J’appelle ici les défenseurs des droits humains et du droit international : regardez de près la situation.

Ce n’est pas seulement un problème de factures ou de freelances. C’est une question de dignité humaine et de justice.

hashtag#Madagascar hashtag#HumanRights hashtag#StopViolence hashtag#Generation

You wonder why online meetings from Madagascar are often delayed or cancelled?
Try pitching to your customers when the light goes out without warning.

Try delivering a project when you must first wait in line with your containers because the tap doesn’t have any water.

Here, the people pay their bills.
However, they get cuts, darkness, thirst, and VIOLENCE instead of services.

Yet despite this, some people still dare to tell Malagasy freelancers: ‘Your work is worth EUR 200 maximum.’
As if surviving in these conditions doesn’t require extraordinary strength and resilience.

In Madagascar, this is injustice holding back talent.
Young people who should be creating are fighting to turn on the lights and fill a glass of water.

I call on human rights and international law defenders to closely monitor the situation.

This isn’t just a bill and freelancers’ issue. It’s a matter of human dignity and justice.

hashtag#Madagascar hashtag#HumanRights hashtag#StopViolence hashtag#Generation

On September 26, 2025, the protesters continued their march throughout the provinces. In the Antsiranana ou Diego Suarez Province, northern Madagascar, a university student was shot and killed by police. A video of the attack was captured by Fit Prod-Action and was later aired by the TV and radio station KOLO TV. Students from the University of Antsiranana marched towards the town center with the body of their classmate.

On September 27, the situation took another turn when President Andry Rajoelina dismissed Energy Minister, Olivier Jean Baptiste. Although this decision was presented as a solution to appease public anger, it wasn’t enough to calm the tensions on the streets. Protesters believe the problem far exceeds a simple change of minister and have continued their efforts.

Originally published on Global Voices

Image by Liz Carrigan and Safa, with visual elements from Yiorgos Bagakis and La Loma, used with permission.

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

Technology can be used to help people, to harm people, but it also isn’t necessarily an either/or situation —  it can be used simultaneously for the benefit of one person or group while harming another person or group. 

While some may ask whether the benefits of using personal data to implement widespread policies and actions outweigh the harms, comparing the benefits and harms in this balanced, binary, two-sided approach is a misguided way to assess it critically, especially when the harms include violence against civilians. After all, human suffering is never justified, and there are no ways to sugarcoat negative repercussions in good faith. Technological bothsidesism attempts to determine the “goodness” or “brownie points” of technology, which is a distraction, because technology itself isn’t good or bad — it is about the humans behind it, the owners and operators behind the machines. Depending on the intentions and aims of those people, technology can be used for a wide variety of purposes.  

Lucrative and lethal

Israel uses data collected from Palestinians to train AI-powered automated tools, including those co-produced by international firms, like the collaboration between Israel’s Elbit Systems and India’s Adani Defence and Aerospace, that have been deployed in Gaza and across the West Bank. Israeli AI-supercharged surveillance tools and spyware, including Pegasus, Paragon, QuaDream, Candiru, Cellebrite, as well as AI weaponry, including the Smart Shooter and Lavender, are world-famous and exported to many places, including South Sudan and the United States. 

The US is also looking into ways to use home-made and imported facial recognition technologies at the US–Mexico border to track the identities of migrant children, collecting data they can use over time. Eileen Guo of MIT Technology Review wrote: “That this technology would target people who are offered fewer privacy protections than would be afforded to US citizens is just part of the wider trend of using people from the developing world, whether they are migrants coming to the border or civilians in war zones, to help improve new technologies.” In addition to facial recognition, the United States is also collecting DNA samples of immigrants for a mass registry with the FBI.

In 2021, US-headquartered companies Google and Amazon jointly signed an exclusive billion-dollar contract with the Israeli government to develop “Project Nimbus,” which was meant to advance technologies in facial detection, automated image categorization, object tracking, and sentiment analysis for military use — a move that was condemned by hundreds of Google and Amazon employees in a coalition called No Tech for Apartheid. 

The Israeli army also has ties with Microsoft for machine learning tools and cloud storage. These examples are brought in here to show the imbalance of power within the greater systems of oppression at play. These tools and corporate ties are not accessible to all potential benefactors; it would be inconceivable for Google, Amazon, and Microsoft to sign these same contracts with, say, the Islamic Resistance Movement (Hamas).

‘Smart’ weapons, nightmare fuel

Former US President Barack Obama is credited with normalizing the use of armed drones in non-battlefield settings. The Obama administration described drone strikes as “surgical” and “precise,” at times even claiming that the use of armed drones resulted in not “a single collateral death,” when that was patently false. Since Obama took office in 2009, drone strikes became commonplace and even expanded in US international actions (in battlefield and non-battlefield settings) of the subsequent administrations. 

Critics say the use of drones in warfare gives governments the power to “act as judge, jury, and executioner from thousands of miles away” and that civilians “disproportionately suffer” in “an urgent threat to the right to life.”  In one example, the BBC described Russian drones as “hunting” Ukrainian civilians. 

In 2009, Human Rights Watch reported on Israel’s use of armed drones in Gaza. In 2021, Israel started deploying “drone swarms” in Gaza to locate and monitor targets. In 2022, Omri Dor, commander of Palmachim Airbase, said, “The whole of Gaza is ‘covered’ with UAVs that collect intelligence 24 hours a day.” In Gaza, drone technology has played a major role in increasing damage and targets, including hybrid drones such as “The Rooster” and “Robodogs” that can fly, hover, roll, and climb uneven terrain. Machine gun rovers have been used to replace on-the-ground troops. 

The AI-powered Smart Shooter, whose slogan is “one-shot, one-hit,” boasts a high degree of accuracy. The Smart Shooter was installed during its pilot stage in 2022 at a Hebron checkpoint, where it remains active to this day. Israel also employs “smart” missiles, like the SPICE 2000, which was used in October 2024 to bomb a Beirut high-rise apartment building. 

The Israeli military is considered to be one of the top 20 most powerful military forces in the world. Israel claimed that it conducts “precision strikes” and does not target civilians, but civilian harm expert Larry Lewis has said Israel’s civilian harm mitigation strategies have been insufficient, with their campaigns seemingly designed to create risk to civilians. The aforementioned technologies employed by Israel have helped their military use disproportionate force to kill Palestinians in Gaza en masse. As an IDF spokesperson described, “We’re focused on what causes maximum damage.” 

While AI-powered technologies reduce boots on the ground and, therefore, potential injuries and casualties of the military who deploy them, they greatly increase casualties of those being targeted. The Israeli military claims AI-powered systems “have minimized collateral damage and raised the accuracy of the human-led process,” but the documented results tell a different story. 

Documentation reveals that at least 13,319 of the Palestinians who were killed were babies and children between 0 and 12 years of age. The UN’s reports of Palestinian casualties are said to be conservative by researchers, who estimate the true death toll to be double or even more than triple. According to one report: “So-called ‘smart systems’ may determine the target, but the bombing is carried out with unguided and imprecise ‘dumb’ ammunition because the army doesn’t want to use expensive bombs on what one intelligence officer described as ‘garbage targets.’” Furthermore, 92 percent of housing units were destroyed in Gaza, as well as 88 percent of school buildings, and 69 percent of overall structures across Gaza have been destroyed or damaged. 

In 2024, UN experts deplored Israel’s use of AI to commit crimes against humanity in Gaza. Regardless of all the aforementioned information, that same year, Israel signed a global treaty on AI developed by the Council of Europe for safeguarding human rights. Seeing how Israel has killed such a large number of Palestinians using AI-powered tools, and connected to technologies which are used in daily life, such as WhatsApp, is seen by some as a warning sign of what is possible to befall them one day, but is seen by others as a blueprint for efficiently systematizing supremacy and control. 

This piece positions that it isn’t just about the lack of human oversight with data and AI tools that is the issue; actually, who collects, owns, controls, and interprets the data and what their biases are (whether implicit or explicit) is a key part in understanding the actual and potential for harm and abuse. Furthermore, focusing exclusively on technology in Israel’s committing of genocide in Gaza, or any war for that matter, could risk a major mistake: absolving the perpetrators’ responsibility for crimes they commit using technology. When over-emphasizing the tools, it can become all too easy to redefine intentional abuses as machine-made mistakes. 

When looking at technology’s use in geopolitics and warfare, understanding the power structures is key to gaining a clear overview. Finding the “goodness” in ultra-specific uses of technology does little in the attempt to offset the “bad.”

For the human beings whose lives have been made more challenging and conditions dire as a result of the implementation of technology in domination, warfare, and systems of supremacy, there is not much that can be rationalized for the better. And the same can be said of other entities that use advantages (geopolitical, technological, or otherwise) in order to assert control over others who are in relatively more disadvantaged and vulnerable positions. To divorce the helpful and harmful applications of technology is to lose oversight of the bigger picture of not only how tech could be used one day, but how it is actually being used right now.

Originally published on Global Voices

Rohingya refugees in a refugee camp in Bangladesh. Image by Zlatica Hoke (VOA) via Wikipedia. Screenshot from the source video by Voice of America. Public Domain.

Misinformation around the Rohingya crisis is not a recent phenomenon; false narratives frequently begin in Myanmar and Bangladesh, cross borders, and influence public opinion across South Asia. Images and footage from refugee camps in Bangladesh and conflict areas in Myanmar are reused in anti-immigrant rhetoric and state propaganda to create a false sense of authenticity, spread fear, and strengthen prevailing biases against stateless Muslim refugees.

The Rohingya crisis is not only unfolding on the ground but also in the digital sphere, where misinformation travels faster than truth. A recent study traces how disinformation, propaganda, and hate campaigns migrate across borders — from Myanmar to Bangladesh, India, and beyond — transforming humanitarian suffering into scrutinized fiction. At the heart of this process lies a structural shift: the Rohingya are recast from victims of violence into perceived threats, a discursive framing that legitimizes exclusion and hostility. With little capacity to defend themselves in the digital age, the stateless Rohingya become doubly silenced — by displacement and by distortion.

Most significantly, this study identifies over 20 fact-checked reports on anti-immigrant disinformation targeting the Rohingya that have circulated widely on Indian social media and even in some news outlets. These fact-checks, conducted by Indian fact-checking organizations between 2017 and 2025, reveal how the Rohingya identity is wrongly painted as a source of violence or demographic threat, fueled by communal language and misleading media. These false narratives typically frame Rohingya refugees as criminals, terrorists, or a demographic “threat” — often using doctored images or videos, misleading captions, and outright fabrication.

Why is anti-immigrant disinformation frequent in India?

In India, a sizeable undocumented Rohingya refugee population, pre-existing anti-Muslim narratives, partisan media amplification, and highly connected social platforms explain why transnational misinformation about the Rohingya is particularly frequent and potent.

Since 2012, successive waves of Rohingya refugees — estimated between 20,000 and 40,000 — have entered India and live largely without legal recognition in Jammu and Kashmir, Hyderabad, New Delhi, and other states. Hindu-nationalist discourse portrays Rohingya Muslims as disloyal outsiders, casting the Rohingya both as security threats and as agents of “demographic jihad.”

Hashtags like #SendRohingyasBack trended on networks such as Republic and Times Now, while senior government officials labeled Rohingya refugees “illegal immigrants” and national security threats. Hindu-nationalist groups exploit refugee vulnerability to mobilize majoritarian sentiments, using misinformation as a tool to demonstrate “toughness on illegal immigration.” The Rohingya thus become a malleable “other” in domestic political contests.

Cross-border misinformation targeting Rohingyas

Misinformation about the Rohingya often originates in Myanmar and Bangladesh, then migrates into India via shared language networks and diaspora media channels. Images and videos drawn from Bangladeshi refugee camps and Myanmar conflict zones are repurposed in anti-immigrant and state propaganda to lend false authenticity, evoke fear, and reinforce existing prejudices against Muslim refugees.

For example, WhatsApp forwards claimed “Rohingya Muslim” gangs were prowling at night to abduct or kill children. Another viral video, staged with actors, was shared with text like “These are Rohingya Muslims… look how they are eating Hindus.” Fact-checkers showed these were completely unrelated clips; the cannibal video was clearly staged in Hindi, not filmed in Myanmar. A dozen distinct hate plots, like kidnappings, lynchings, and more, have been falsely ascribed to the Rohingya — all using sensational communal language and fake visuals.

This study identifies at least five viral items: misuse of old images and videos with a false Indian context, where the location or timing was altered. For instance, a video of a Rohingya refugee camp fire in Bangladesh (March 2021) was circulated as evidence of the Tripura riots. In another case, Bangladeshi police footage of a Rohingya man detained near Cox’s Bazar was shared with the caption “caught stealing from a Hindu household in India.” More generally, images of Rohingya children and families from Myanmar and Bangladesh have been circulated with fabricated captions.

Nearly all misinformation exploits their religious identity, repeatedly highlighting “Muslim” versus “Hindu” in sensational ways. For example, #JaagoHinduJaago slogans, explicit references to Rohingya as Muslim aliens.

Many claims stress that Rohingya Muslims are attacking innocent Hindus — even when the footage shows something else. Rumors also reuse standard anti-Muslim templates like gang kidnapping stories, child rape narratives, by simply inserting “Rohingya” as the culprit. Indian actors repurpose these narratives to suit local communal agendas, creating a feedback loop where transnational content reinforces domestic Islamophobia.

Misinformation often comes from a small cluster of habitual pages and accounts. Several fact-checking campaigns note that the contents originate from politically aligned networks and are amplified by WhatsApp and Telegram forwards. For example, after a false story about an Indian government tax briefing went viral, it was traced to popular social media pages aligned with the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), India's ruling conservative political party. These underscore that the misinformation is systematic: not just a few isolated lies but a steady stream of new posts.

Analysis of voiceless discourse on refugees in the digital realm

The Rohingya crisis has been steadily reworked in the digital realm, where disinformation, online hate campaigns, and politically driven narratives interact to produce a new, hostile public reality. At the same time, partisan broadcasters, political actors, and sympathetic social media networks amplify these reframed visuals and claims, lending them an aura of authority that belies their inaccuracy.

Crucially, Rohingya refugees themselves have virtually no voice in this discourse. With no media platform or political representation, they cannot correct these rumors. In effect, the refugees are silenced twice: already stateless, they become censored online and blamed for social problems.

The covert circulation of anti-immigrant narratives using digital spaces operates as a deliberate technology of fear: by repurposing emotionally powerful visuals and selectively recycling statistics, actors convert compassion into anxiety and then into policy pressure.

State actors and partisan media amplify decontextualized visuals to bolster narratives of “illegal immigration” and “national security.” This hate propaganda not only incites hostility but also deepens the refugees’ digital marginalization.

Global digital governance concerns

Misinformation targeting Rohingya across South Asia reflects a broader failure in digital governance for refugees. UNHCR and other agencies warn that unchecked hate speech online has real-world consequences. For example, a 2018 UN mission found that Facebook-driven hate speech helped spark the Rakhine violence in Myanmar.

In this regional context, platforms and governments have done little to counter narratives of refugee victimhood. UN observers emphasize the need for stronger “guardrails and safety policies” on social media to protect displaced people. In India, despite IT rules and fact-check initiatives, these Rohingya hoaxes continue unimpeded, highlighting gaps in content moderation and media literacy.

Taken together, these dynamics show that misinformation about the Rohingya is not an incidental media problem but a structural process that transforms humanitarian reality into securitized fiction. Combating it, therefore, requires more than debunking: it demands media accountability that restrains amplification, platform interventions that slow the circulation of decontextualized visuals, and regional fact-checking collaborations that trace and neutralize transnational flows of deceptive imagery and narrative. Only by addressing the discursive, policy, and technological dimensions in parallel can the cycle that turns statelessness into digital voicelessness be interrupted.