LONDON, Apr 21 (IPS) – The current fighting in Sudan marks the failure of supposed processes for transition to democratic rule. The international community needs to learn the lessons of this catastrophe and work with civil society.
Democracy betrayed
On one side is the army, headed by Sudan’s current leader, General Abdel Fattah al-Burhan. On the other are the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), a paramilitary group led by General Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, commonly known as Hemedti. Both sides blame the other and say they will refuse to negotiate.
The two worked together in the October 2021 coup that overthrew a transitional government, put in place in August 2019 after long-time dictator Omar al-Bashir was ousted following a popular uprising. They were never committed to democracy. Military forces initially tried to suppress democracy protests with lethal violence. The grimmest day came on 3 June 2019, when the RSF ended a sit-in with indiscriminate gunfire, killing over 100 people. There has been no accountability for the violence.
The October 2021 military coup, which brought mass protests and civil disobedience, was followed by a short-lived and palpably insincere attempt at a civilian-military power-sharing deal that only lasted from November 2021 to January 2022. Protests, and military violence against them, continued. December 2022 saw the signing of a deal between the military and some civilian groups.
This deal was supposed to kickstart a two-year transition to democracy. Some pro-democracy groups and political parties rejected the plan, but the international community urged all sides to get behind it.
The army was already seeking to backtrack on its commitments before the fighting began. Now those who doubted the sincerity of the two forces’ intentions and willingness to hand over power have been proved right.
Civilians in the firing line
Relations between the two military leaders had become increasingly strained, and fighting finally broke out on 15 April. Attempts at a humanitarian ceasefire have so far come to nothing.
Civilians are in the firing line. There’s much confusion on the ground, making it hard to get accurate numbers of casualties, but currently over 300 civilians are reported killed, with thousands injured.
Khartoum’s major sites of contestation, such as the airport and military bases, nestle side by side with civilian housing, leaving people vulnerable to airstrikes. People are stuck in their homes and at workplaces with limited supplies of food, and water and electricity have been cut. Some have had their homes seized by RSF soldiers. Thousands have fled.
Many hospitals have been forced to evacuate or are running out of vital supplies, and there are reports of attacks on health facilities. There are also reports that UN staff and other aid workers are being targeted and offices of humanitarian organisations have been looted.
A battle for power
The origins of the current crisis lie in al-Bashir’s deployment of paramilitary forces, the Janjaweed, to brutally crush a rebellion in Darfur in 2003. The violence was such that al-Bashir remains subject to an International Criminal Court arrest warrant on charges of genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes.
In recognition of its brutal effectiveness, al-Bashir formally reorganised the Janjaweed into the RSF. It suited him to have two forces he could play off against each other, although ultimately they worked together to oust him. The tensions that have built since partly reflect a clash of cultures between the two leaders and Hemedti’s evident ambition for the top job.
But mostly it’s a competition for political and economic supremacy. The army has always been the power behind the presidency, and it’s said to control major companies, having taken over many businesses once owned by al-Bashir and his inner circle.
Hemedti has his own sources of wealth, including illegal gold mining – something that connects him with Russia, with mercenary forces from the shadowy Wagner Group reportedly guarding goldmines in return for gold exports to Russia. Now Wagner is allegedly supplying the RSF with missiles.
Hemedti had positioned himself as supportive of transitional processes, a ruse that enabled him to dispute the army’s power. Al-Burhan was always a compromised figure, supposedly leading Sudan through transition while also defending the army’s extensive interests. Proposals to integrate the two forces appear to have been the final straw, threatening to erode Hemedti’s power base, making this an existential struggle.
International failure
Democratic states that backed the transition plan wanted to believe in it and basically hoped for the best.
Self-interest has never been far away from the calculations of outside forces either. In recent years, EU funding indirectly found its way to the RSF for its border control role, helping prevent people making their way to Europe; the EU’s preoccupation with controlling migration trumped democracy and human rights concerns.
The Egyptian government, an influential player in Sudan, is meanwhile squarely behind al-Burhan: it wants its domestic model of repressive government by a military strongman applied in its southern neighbour. Russia strongly backs Hemedti, while Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates might have no strong preference between the two as long as the outcome isn’t democracy.
What all the approaches taken have in common is that they’re largely top-down, investing faith in leaders while failing to address the tensions that led to violence. Now the limitations of that approach should be evident.
Sudan’s democracy movement has been consistently ignored. But people don’t want their futures to come down to a dismal choice of two warlords. This conflict must put an end to any notion that either military head can be expected to lead a transition to democracy.
Democratic states need to hold a stronger line on demanding not only that the conflict ends but that a genuine, civilian-led transition follows. With this must come accountability for violence.
From now on, the outside world must listen to and be guided by Sudanese civil society voices – in restoring peace, and in bringing about democracy.
Afghan Women refugees undergoing sewing and embroidery training in Peshawar, Pakistan. Credit: Ashfaq Yusufzai/IPS
by Ashfaq Yusufzai (peshawar)
Inter Press Service
PESHAWAR, Apr 10 (IPS) – “I had my shop in Afghanistan but came here after the Taliban’s warning against stitching women’s clothes. Now, I am working on daily wages in a shop owned by a local tailor master,” Noor Wali, 32, told IPS.
Wali, a resident of Jalalabad province, said that a new order by the Taliban’s vice and virtue authority, male tailors, have been barred from making garments for women in Kabul.
“The order has landed the majority of the male tailors, who have no other option except to leave the country or stay idle and resort to begging,” Wali, a father of three, said.
Before the Taliban takeover in August 2021, he said it was common practice all over Afghanistan that males stitched women’s garments. The male tailors who used to make only women’s garments are the worst hit as the order has made them virtually jobless.
Sharif Gul’s story is no different from Wali’s. Gul, 41, arrived in Peshawar, located close to the Afghan border, and started work at Rs1,500 (about USD 6) per day with a local tailor. “I used to earn at least Rs6,000 (about USD 21) back home and over Rs15,000 a day (about USD 52) in Ramzan (Ramadan) because the people wear new clothes on Eid al-Fitr,” he said.
Eid al-Fitr is celebrated at the end of Ramzan-one month of fasting, and all people stitch new clothes for the festivity.
“A great loss to us. We have been appealing to the Taliban to take pity on us, but they were not receptive to our requests,” Gul said.
Tailor said the order would have a major impact on them financially as many tailor shops cater only to female customers.
Naseer Shah is another Afghan hit hard by the Taliban’s ban on sewing women’s garments. Shah, 39, who migrated to Peshawar last month along with his wife, three sons, and daughter, works as a daily wager with a Pakistani tailor.
“I earn Rs3,000 (about USD 10) a day. My income used to be around Rs10,000 (about UDS 35) during this month of Ramzan. I have been making women’s garments for more than 15 years,” he explains. Most Kabul-based workers have stopped stitching female dresses and started dealing in men’s clothing, but they receive fewer customers.
So he didn’t have to resort to begging; they moved to Pakistan, he said.
Taliban government has already banned women’s education after coming to power. A week ago, they asked women to stop working in UN offices, likely impacting women’s development, healthcare, and population control in the militia-ruled violence-stricken country.
Hussain Ahmad, 50, an Afghan tailor who migrated to Pakistan 30 years ago, told IPS that the influx of Afghan tailors has been problematic because they don’t find lucrative work here.
“We have hired three tailors who came recently after the Taliban’s ban. We have workload in Ramzan, but after Eid al-Fitr, we wouldn’t need their services, and they will be unemployed,” said Hussain, who owns a shop in Muhajir (refugee) Bazaar, in Peshawar, the capital of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province, located near the Afghan border.
Hussain said the people feared the Taliban for their harsh punishments. “Those arriving here recall how Taliban’s police warned them if they didn’t stop taking women’s garments,” he said.
Ikramullah Shah, an economics teacher, who taught at Kabul University, told IPS that he quit his job because of the ban on women’s education.
“We are here, and my two daughters are studying in private schools here. I want to educate my daughters at any cost,” Shah said. “I have been teaching in two Afghan schools as a part-timer to earn for my family.”
Most of the women who owned dressmaking shops have stopped working after the Taliban’s instructions, he said. Some women tailors had very big shops where they had recruited male and female tailors, but now all have to close shops and work from home.
Among the refugees is Naseema Shah, an Afghan woman who says she will soon start stitching women’s dresses for women in Peshawar. Naseema, 30, is one of 20 Afghan women nearing completion of month-long training in Peshawar, supported by the German Agency for International Cooperation (GIZ).
Dr Samir Khan, a political analyst, told IPS that the Taliban have been facing tremendous pressure from the international community, including the UN, to change their attitude towards women, but the situation remained unchanged.
“We have been listening to news about the ban of women students, workers, and tailors sewing female dresses, which is unacceptable in a civilized society,” he said.
Taliban should do some soul-searching and try to become part of the global efforts and work for women’s development, he said.
“How can the Taliban put the war-devastated country on the path of progress when they disallow women (half of the country’s population) to work,” he said.
Pakistan is an Islamic country where women enjoy equal rights, he said.
He said that women are neither taking part in social activities nor allowed to go to school and work, which is regrettable. The past 16 months since the Taliban came to power have been tough on women.
Sajida Babi, an Afghan teacher in Peshawar that women have been at the receiving end of the Taliban’s ruthlessness. “There are strict dress codes for women who are required to wear an all-encompassing veil while in the market,” Bibi, 55, said. “In my country, women cannot go to schools or parks for entertainment, and they cannot travel without being accompanied by a man, which reminds one of the Stone Age.”
LONDON, Apr 05 (IPS) – Europe’s current approach to facilitating refugee returns and containing new arrivals from Syria is based on wishful thinking. Europeans have come to terms with the fact that a political settlement for Syria’s 12-year conflict is not on the horizon.
In conversations with diplomats, one hears a reoccurring theme these days: Syria is not a priority anymore. Notoriously hesitant to lead and busy with Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, Europeans want to keep things as calm as possible.
But what stands in the way of this old-fashioned wait-and-see approach is the issue of refugees. Not only are significant numbers not returning to Syria, but tens of thousands more continue to set out to the EU each year.
Against this background, Europeans have indicated to president Bashar al-Assad that concessions on the ‘refugee issue’ could prompt them to re-think their policy of ostracising the Syrian dictator and his regime.
Notably, discussions on refugee return have almost exclusively been about their return to regime-held Syria. Much of the official thinking on the matter, which includes that of the UN envoy, envisages Assad conceding to taking back refugees in return for the normalisation of relations with other Arab countries and Western political and financial inducements.
Putting refugee return on the negotiating table with Assad makes sense from a diplomatic expediency angle. And it is certainly attractive: if voluntary and dignified returns can be realised, this would please the domestic audience in Europe and foreign ministries as well as EU institutions could sell it as an indicator that political progress is being achieved.
However, Europe’s current approach to facilitating refugee returns and containing new arrivals is based on wishful thinking.
Assad’s ‘population warfare’
First of all, Europe falsely assumes that Assad wants his people back. Apart from the crippling pressures that any sizeable refugee return would place on resources in regime areas – water, electricity, fuel, food, etc. – there is the more important matter of security.
The regime considers all Syrians who have fled to neighbouring countries to be at best cowards and at worst traitors. By placing themselves out of the reach of the regime’s military conscriptors, they are seen as having voted with their feet in Syria’s civil war.
‘We will never forgive or forget’ echoes a longstanding view among regime supporters of those perceived to have skipped the war but now want to return once the fighting is over.
The testimonies of those who have returned only to see their loved ones arrested and killed suggest that it is not an empty threat. Those connected to rebels or their families by blood or marriage, or those that have been reported as having anti-Assad views by informants, immediately fail the regime’s security check for returning refugees, as will most that hail from former rebel strongholds.
Additionally, living in a neighbouring country for many years and establishing roots there, as most refugees have done, enables the regime to brand them as ‘politically suspect’. Syria’s Foreign Minister claims that refugees can return ‘without any condition’, but this magnanimity is only voiced when around Western reporters.
‘Perhaps the most noteworthy aspect of the Syrian regime’s discourse on refugees is that there barely is one’, a study on the matter finds. This should not come at all as a surprise.
Syria’s mass population displacement has for too long been seen as an unfortunate secondary effect of the war rather than an intended goal. But in civil wars that take on an ethnic or sectarian nature, de-population becomes a strategic goal in itself.
According to one study, ‘combatants displace not only to expel undesirable populations but also to identify the undesirables in the first place by forcing people to send signals of loyalty and affiliation based on whether, and to where, they flee.’
In Syria, population displacement was at the heart of Assad’s counter-insurgency strategy. Moreover, Assad’s use of chemical weapons and its wider war effort are inextricably linked – tactically, operationally and strategically.
Whether it be artillery strikes, barrel bombs, or sarin gas, the overall war strategy was collective punishment of the population in opposition-held areas.
Assad’s ‘population warfare’ doctrine aims to ensure the population balance of pre-war Syria – so nearly fatal to his family and clan – cannot be recreated. ‘Two-thirds of the population was Sunni and half of it has been scattered to the winds, as refugees or internal exiles’, writes one observer – a favourable outcome for the Alawite president.
For Assad, the country has now gained a ‘healthier and more homogenous society’. With that in mind, it is understandable that most Syrians reject returning to areas under the control of his regime.
Working with Turkey
Does this mean that Europeans should remove the ‘refugee file’ from the negotiating table? Not quite. But they would be well advised to be sober about their goals. If they try to utilise the refugee file as an entry point for advancing a moribund political process, it would be ethically irresponsible.
In fact, EU diplomats have already signalled that credible steps allowing refugee returns could pave the way for gradual engagement with the Assad regime. This is concerning given that turning refugees into a diplomatic currency to trade concessions with Assad hardly passes the ‘do no harm’ test.
If the goal is to get results where refugees actually return to Syria in large numbers and fewer people leave the country, Europeans should be talking not with Damascus but with Ankara.
The inconvenient truth about refugee return is that it will only work if enough refugees are willing to return voluntarily, given realistic conditions and a serious partner on the ground with an active interest in seeing returns happen.
Right now, only Turkey and a share of its Syrian refugees can tick both boxes, given the connectivity between populations on both sides of the border and Turkey’s ability to assure relative security.
According to UNHCR figures, about 800 Syrian refugees are returning to Syria from Turkey every week despite the UN agency’s assessment that conditions are not suitable for a large number of voluntary returns.
Moreover, of the nearly 750,000 refugees that have returned to Syria since 2016, most of them (500,000) have returned from Turkey to opposition-controlled areas in the north and northwest of Syria. In contrast, only 10,766 refugees returned to regime-controlled areas between January and October 2022. A greater number have fled Assad’s Syria in the same period.
The absence of security hurdles to return and compulsory military conscription (both major push factors in regime areas and those controlled by the US-allied Syrian Democratic Forces) and the fact that Sunni internally displaced people (IDPs) and refugees feel relatively safe under Turkey’s protection are solid foundations on which to build a realistic returns policy.
Perhaps most important for European policymakers, Turkey controls the territory in northern Syria through which large numbers from regime and SDF areas are passing through to enter Turkey and continue to Europe, all for vast sums of money.
Dealing with Ankara on a programme for voluntary refugee return would create a firebreak in the logistical chain of the people traffickers that ends in Berlin and Amsterdam but begins at the M4 Highway.
In sum, Europeans should recognise that significant refugee returns to areas currently controlled by the Assad regime cannot precede a political settlement. Talk of ‘post-conflict reconstruction’ and investments in local development labelled as ‘Early Recovery assistance’ will not change that fact.
This also applies to limiting new refugee movements. Any sort of minor concession from the regime has the purpose of maintaining the momentum of normalisation, but it cannot alter the calculus of Syrians who have no illusions about the regime’s unalterable nature.
The facts support the case for European engagement with Turkey both on returns and border security. Europeans are of course entitled to take a critical stance on Ankara’s Syria policy. Notwithstanding their condemnation of Turkey’s incursions into Syria, new realities have emerged that require a nuanced position rather than blissful ignorance.
Unless Europeans adapt to the reality that Syria is now a de facto divided country, their policy response will remain poor. If areas outside of the regime’s control continue to be seen as not being part of Syria proper, and therefore not integral to any credible nationwide refugee return programme, there will be much more talk but no delivery.
Individual diplomats may be very much aware of this reality, but as long as this realisation does not translate into actual policy, the EU will continue to deceive itself.
Malik al-Abdeh is a conflict resolution expert focused on Syria. He is managing director of Conflict Mediation Solutions, a consultancy specialized in Track II work.
Lars Hauch works as a researcher and policy advisor for Conflict Mediation Solutions, a London-based consultancy specialising in Track II diplomacy.
Source: International Politics and Society (IPS) Journal published by the International Political Analysis Unit of the Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung, Hiroshimastrasse 28, D-10785 Berlin
Ines Pousadela at the launch of the CIVICUS State of Civil Society Report. Credit: Joyce Chimbi/IPS
by Joyce Chimbi (nairobi)
Inter Press Service
NAIROBI, Mar 31 (IPS) – As conflict and crises escalate to create human emergencies that have displaced over 100 million people worldwide, civil society’s vital role of advocating for victims and monitoring human rights cannot be over-emphasised.
The 2022 Nobel Peace Prize award to activists and organisations in Belarus, Russia and Ukraine for working to uphold human rights in the thick of conflict underpins this role.
Yet this has not stopped gross violations of civic space as exposed by the State of Civil Society report from CIVICUS, the global civil society alliance, which was officially launched on March 30, 2023.
“This year’s report is the 12th in its annual published series, and it is a critical look back on 2022. Exploring trends in civil society action, at every level and in every arena, from struggles for democracy, inclusion, and climate justice to demands for global governance reform,” said Ines Pousadela from CIVICUS.
The report particularly highlights the many ways civil society comes under attack, caught in the crossfire and or deliberately targeted. For instance, the Russian award winner, the human rights organisation Memorial, was ordered to close in the run-up to the war. The laureate from Belarus, Ales Bialiatski, received a 10-year jail sentence.
Mandeep Tiwana stressed that the repression of civic voices and actions is far from unique. In Ethiopia, “activists have been detained by the state. In Mali, the ruling military junta has banned activities of CSOs that receive funding from France, hampering humanitarian support to those affected by conflict. In Italy, civil society groups face trial for rescuing migrants at sea.”
Ines Pousadela at the launch of the CIVICUS State of Civil Society Report. Credit: Joyce Chimbi/IPS
Spanning over six chapters titled responding to conflict and crisis, mobilising for economic justice, defending democracy, advancing women’s and LGBTQI+ rights, sounding the alarm on the climate emergency and urging global governance reform, the analysis presented by the report draws from an ongoing analysis initiative, CIVICUS Lens.
On responding to conflict and crisis, Oleksandra Matviichuk from the Center for Civil Liberties in Ukraine spoke about the Russian invasion and the subsequent “unprecedented levels of war crimes against civilians such as torture and rape. And, a lack of accountability despite documented evidence of crimes against civilians.”
Bhavani Fonseka, from the Centre for Policy Alternatives, Sri Lanka, addressed the issue of mobilising for economic justice and how Sri Lanka captured the world’s attention one year ago through protests that start small in neighbourhoods and ultimately led to the President fleeing the country.
Launched in January 2022, CIVICUS Lens is directly informed by the voices of civil society affected by and responding to the major issues and challenges of the day.
Through this lens, a civil society perspective of the world as it stands in early 2023 has emerged: one plagued by conflict and crises, including democratic values and institutions, but in which civil society continues to strive to make a crucial difference in people’s lives.
On defending democracy, Amine Ghali of the Al Kawakibi Democracy Transition Center in Tunisia spoke about the challenge of removing authoritarian regimes, making significant progress in levels of democracy only for the country to regress to authoritarianism.
“It starts with the narrative that democracy is not delivering; let me have all the power so that I can deliver for you. But they do not deliver. All they do is consolidate power. A government with democratic legitimacy demolishing democracy is where we are in Tunisia,” he said.
Erika Venadero from the National Network of Diverse Youth, Mexico, spoke about the country’s journey that started in the 1960s towards egalitarian marriages. Today, same-sex marriages are provided for in the law.
On global governance reforms, Ben Donaldson from UNA-UK spoke about global governance institutional failure and the need to improve what is working and reform what is not, with a special focus on the UN Security Council.
“It is useful to talk about Ukraine and the shortcomings of the UN Security Council. A member of the UN State Council is unable to hold one of its members accountable. There are, therefore, tensions at the heart of the UN. The President of Ukraine and many others ask, what is the UN for if it cannot stop the Ukraine invasion?”
Baraka, a youthful climate activist and sustainability consultant in Uganda, spoke about ongoing efforts to stop a planned major pipeline project which will exacerbate the ongoing climate crisis, affecting lives and livelihoods.
His concerns and actions are in line with the report findings that “civil society continues to be the force sounding the alarm on the triple threat of climate change, pollution and biodiversity loss. Urging action using every tactic available, from street protest and direct action to litigation and advocacy in national and global arenas.”
But in the context of pressures on civic space and huge challenges, the report further finds that “civil society is growing, diversifying and widening its repertoire of tactics.”
Moving forward, the report highlights 10 ideas, including an urgent need for a broad-based campaign to win recognition of civil society’s vital role in conflict and crisis response as well as greater emphasis by civil society and supportive states on protecting freedom of peaceful assembly.
Additionally, the need for civil society to work with supportive states to take forward plans for UN Security Council reform and proposals to open up the UN and other international institutions to much greater public participation and scrutiny.
In all, strengthening and enhancing the membership and reach of transnational civil society networks to enable the rapid deployment of solidarity and support when rights come under attack was also strongly encouraged.
QUEBEC, Canada, Mar 29 (IPS) – In the wake of Finland’s announcement last fall that it will build a barrier along its border with Russia, the discussions surrounding the European Council meeting of 9 February 2023 confirmed that the tide had turned.
Demands for stronger border measures have multiplied and some states have made it clear that they are willing to finance border barriers in other member states on the edge of the European Union.
They are thus projecting their own anxieties beyond their territories: in the midst of a moral panic, Europe now seems to be building what the geographer Klaus Dodds calls a ‘barbed-wire curtain’: a protective bulwark, in the spirit of what Samuel Huntington imagined when he wrote The clash of civilizations.
However, Brussels doesn’t seem quite ready to build a continuous external and concrete border wall itself. Yet.
Europe has a historical yet complicated relationship with walls. At the outset of the millennium, the continent, which had long rejected the idea of border walls as relics of a bygone era, in time would change its tune.
As the European Union expanded, it inherited the fenced-off borders in the heart of Cyprus and on the edge of Lithuania. But these were seen as mere remnants of conflicts from the past.
For in the 1990s, the EU became the champion of a world without borders, a world of free movement and flow. Yet, this was a mirage: the Schengen area abolished internal border controls while the physical barriers on its periphery were gradually hardening — such as Spain, which was walling up its border with Morocco in its two enclaves, Ceuta and Melilla, situated on the African continent. However, towards the end of the Cold War, there were still only 200 km of fenced borders in existence: vestiges of an ancient period, reminders of geopolitical obsolescence.
Breaking ‘the wall’ taboo
The great change towards erecting walls instead of tearing them down in Europe happened in two phases, starting in 2015, when the Syrian crisis led the EU to believe that there was also a ‘migratory crisis’ in Europe.
Then, in the following years, the change in the mindset continued both because of the Russian strategic threat in the wake of the invasion of Crimea and the instrumentalisation of refugee flows by Europe’s cumbersome neighbours.
Thus, in 2023, all over Europe, stretching from Finland to Greece, from Ukraine to Calais in France, there are 17 walled-in dyads. While 1.7 per cent of Europe’s land borders were barricaded at the end of the 20th century, 15.5 per cent are fenced today – 2008 kilometres of walls now scar the continent.
The fact that Europe is fully embracing the walled-in world and its own border limits is effectively breaking a taboo – that of the wall – as explicitly expressed by some heads of government on the eve of the European summit in February 2023. The Trumpian formulae, both gruesome and horrifying, is no longer an exception.
The wall has become an acceptable solution no longer limited to the vocabulary of populism and the Far Right, but rather entering fully mainstream discourse; legitimising exclusion as a tool of identity-based resistance in a world shaken by the winds of globalisation.
Yet, walls, which now represent a lucrative and globalised market with astronomical direct and indirect costs, do not fulfil the objectives for which they are being built. While political rhetoric suggests they are intended to seal and render the border impervious, it fails to recognise that flows shift – both spatially and temporally – when impeded.
Smuggling (whether of drugs, weapons, or people), irregular crossings and insurgency reorganise and become more opaque and thus more difficult to monitor. Flows disappear briefly to reappear elsewhere or in other forms. In the meantime, passage (both legal and illegal) becomes more costly and a magnet for organised crime.
Thus, although border walls sketch a fantasised imperviousness, they are not meant to serve as watertight membranes but rather as mere sieves.
Research shows that not only do walls burden bilateral trade and borderlands’ health, and affect a nation’s image, but they are also limited in effectiveness, as they do not block unwanted flows nor do they significantly increase security. Indeed, the US Customs and Border Protection (CBP) website has long claimed that the wall serves only as a ‘ speedbump’.
This perspective is shared by Finland’s Border Guard which states that the prototype barrier being tested will ‘slow down and guide the movements of any crowds that form’, adding that ‘even if people skirt the fence, it still fulfils its task by slowing down illegal entry and helping the authorities to manage the situation.’
However, this clear-mindedness doesn’t necessarily spill over into the public arena because border walls, as Trump proved in 2016, are an undeniably effective electoral weapon. An aspect that does not seem to have escaped the Austrian chancellor when he recently called for the erection of a wall along Europe borders – with the upcoming legislative elections in Austria less than a year away.
The wall as a silver bullet?
Just as a wall obscures the other side of the border, it also hides disagreements and opportunities for cooperation between border actors and border security policies. By de-structuring border areas economically, politically and ecologically, border walls amplify vulnerabilities and differences, which in turn accentuate violence. In their subsequent quest for security, states engage in damaging behaviours (such as suddenly shifting funding priorities, militarising border areas and mismanaging labour migration at the expense of local economies and ecosystems) – motivated by the prevailing rhetoric of a visible, theatrical silver bullet: the wall as a panacea.
As a matter of fact, border walls accentuate the global hierarchisation of mobility: a wall isn’t an impenetrable rampart for everyone but a filter that dissociates flows, selecting which is the wheat and which is the chaff. For some, it will impose cruel choices and added difficulties. For others, it will be barely a speck in the landscape.
For a few, it will even be an opportunity to enrich themselves. This unbalancing contributes to the political longevity of the wall-building process while also accomplishing a self-fulfilling prophecy: it becomes the announced remedy to the instability it breeds. Border walling creates a ‘tragedy by design’.
Hence, any transgression of the wall – Professor Scott Nicol calls these barriers ‘ladder magnets’ – becomes a demonstration of its very necessity, despite the fact that the wall itself is the reason some of these activities are now illegal.
By succumbing to the sirens of border fortification, European states are contributing to the normalisation and dissemination of the walling phenomenon. Walls are – above all – an admission of failure (of cooperation – both international and European) and a renouncement of the founding values of the European Union.
The resulting backlash will see an increased rift, accentuated flows, growing incomprehension and fears that are ever more primal, for which only greater cooperation can offer a remedy. For walls do not solve the problems they address. They merely act as a bandage on a broken limb, a smokescreen before increasingly glaring problems that remain unsolved.
Élisabeth Vallet is an Associate Professor at the RMCC-Saint Jean in Canada. She is also the director of the Centre for Geopolitical Studies of the Raoul-Dandurand Chair in Strategic and Diplomatic Studies (UQAM-Canada). Her main field of interest include Borders, border walls and US politics.
Source: International Politics and Society (IPS) which is published by the Global and European Policy Unit of the Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung, Hiroshimastrasse 28, D-10785 Berlin.
Tbilisi, Georgia’s capital, has been attracting hundreds of thousands of Russians since the war in Ukraine started in February 2022. The city is a favored destination where Russians can still travel visa-free.
by IPS Correspondent (tbilisi)
Inter Press Service
TBILISI, Mar 21 (IPS) – Since the war in Ukraine started in February last year, at least 1.5 million Russian citizens have crossed the Russia-Georgia border, official data states. However, as of today, it needs to be clarified how many of them stayed in the country, but walking the streets of the Georgian capital Tbilisi, the presence of Russian nationals can be seen almost everywhere.
Right after the war started and even more when Russia announced a partial mobilization in September 2022, hundreds of thousands of Russian citizens – primarily men – traveled to countries where they could travel visa-free, including Serbia, Montenegro, Albania, Turkey, and Georgia. Among those destinations, Georgia is among the most enticing because of its mild climate, wine, food, and nightlife-heavy capital. At the moment, Russian citizens can spend twelve renewable months in Georgia, and many of them are planning to stay in the long term, as the war seems would still last long.
The arrival of thousands of Russians has significantly impacted Georgian society. The country is known for its hospitality, but many Georgians are concerned about the effect such a large influx could have on their country’s social fabric. There have been reports of tension between Russians and locals and concerns about potential cultural clashes. While walking in Tbilisi, the Russian language can be easily heard in most bars, cafes, and restaurants, day and night. In contrast, there is a solid pro-Ukrainian sentiment and a not-so-hidden antagonism toward Russians. Every twenty meters or so, it is possible to spot on the streets of Tbilisi a Ukrainian flag hanging from a balcony, at the entrance of a restaurant or bar, or drawn on a wall.
As the Russians poured into Georgia, many Georgians have come to fear that the emigres somehow could serve as a pretext for Putin to target their country in the future, just as it did happen to Ukraine in 2014 and 2022. For this reason, the recent influx of Russians—mainly men who fear being conscripted into arms—has created a tense social climate in Georgia and an increased distrust towards Russians.
Suspicion towards Russian emigration is also motivated by historical events indicating the two countries as potential enemies. Indeed, Russia currently occupies 20 percent of Georgia; in 2008, a five-day conflict (“South Ossetia conflict”) broke out between the two countries over the breakaway regions of South Ossetia and Abkhazia. Georgia lost control of both areas, and Russia later recognized them as independent states. As a consequence, Tbilisi cut off diplomatic relations with Moscow, after which Switzerland took up the role of mediator country.
Today, stickers reading “Russia currently occupies 20 percent of Georgian territory” are prominently displayed at the entrance to many restaurants, bars, coworking spaces, and local shops. Many Georgians believe that the Russians who have fled their country are not opponents of the Moscow government but do not want to risk their lives at the front in Ukraine. Irakli, a baker from central Tbilisi, told IPS: “If they don’t like Putin, and they don’t share his war, then they should fight and oppose him in Russia, not run away here to Georgia.”
Many Georgians fear that the recent wave of Russians fleeing to their country is less ideological than the first one that occurred right after the beginning of the war in February 2022. There is a widespread belief that, while the first wave mainly included activists, intellectuals, and anti-Putin individuals, the current wave might consist of people who fear being conscripted to fight in Ukraine but do not oppose the Russian government’s policies—including its decision to invade Ukraine.
Because of these concerns, a survey conducted by the Caucasus Research Resource Centers in February-March 2022 revealed that 66 percent of Georgians favor re-introducing a visa regime for Russians. That visa regime was abolished for Russians in 2012, but now many Georgians think it should be revisited. However, the same survey revealed that 49 percent of respondents approved the Georgian national government’s rejection of imposing sanctions on Russia. On the one hand, this data could be interpreted as a tightening of ties with the Kremlin. More simply, it should be read as a policy aimed at not worsening diplomatic relations, as Georgia could fear some retaliation—even military—from Moscow.
Furthermore, Georgia depends on remittances from its citizens working in Russia, and, in the past, its tourism industry has prospered from Russian visitors. Most Georgian politicians agree that the country is pursuing a ‘pragmatic and careful stance toward Russia’ by not imposing sanctions and keeping the current visa-free regime. For example, Eka Sepashvili, a member of parliament who left the governing Georgian Dream party, remains aligned with it on this policy.
Adverse effects aside, Russian migration to Georgia has undoubtedly stimulated the local economy. Many among those migrants are information technology (IT) remote workers, sometimes even hired by Western companies. Therefore, their salaries are way higher than the Georgian average (300-500 US dollars per month), and their living in Georgia guarantees an essential boost to local consumption.
According to the World Bank, the 2022 Georgian economic growth was 10 percent. The surge in money transfers from Russia, the recovery in domestic demand, and the rebound of tourism after the pandemic have been the main reasons for the positive performance. The World Bank further forecasted a 4 percent and 5 percent economic growth for 2023 and 2024, respectively.
Furthermore, a recent Transparency International (TI) report shows 17,000 Russian companies are registered in Georgia. More than half of them were registered after the start of the war in Ukraine. Only in March-September of 2022, up to 9,500 Russian companies were registered, which, according to the report, is ten times more than the entire figure for 2021. According to TI, this trend indicates that many Russian nationals plan to stay in Georgia long term. Not coincidentally, in April-September 2022, remittances from Russia to Georgia amounted to 1,135 million US dollars—a fivefold increase.
Artem, a Russian engineer in his forties, arrived in Tbilisi in October 2022 after Putin announced the partial mobilization. He works remotely, so he can afford to continue living in Georgia as long as his salary allows. He stays in a guest house that is usually intended for tourists. The structure has six single rooms and two with more beds to share. In recent months, 95 percent of the tenants have been Russians who have started living here for medium-to-long periods.
Since it is the low tourist season, the landlord has agreed to rent to Russians. Still, with the arrival of the high season in May, he may return to prefer the more profitable short-term rentals.
“For now, I am staying here, but with the arrival of spring, I will probably have to look for a new place,” Artem told IPS.
Despite having a higher salary than the local average, Artem cannot afford many accommodations since prices have skyrocketed. Talking to him and other current tenants of the guest house – all Russian men – it isn’t easy to find someone who would say he doesn’t like Putin. They say they are against the war and worried about the current situation. Still, they go no further, perhaps for fear of sharing their ideas or probably because their opposition to the Moscow government is, in fact, minimal, as many Georgians believe.
Georgi, a Georgian tour guide, tells us that, according to him, Russian migrants are divided into two large groups: men—especially IT workers—who are mainly afraid of being called up but are not great opponents of Putin and those who oppose him fervently. The latter are activists, journalists, intellectuals, and members of the LGBT community—people who risked their lives in Russia—even before the start of the war in Ukraine.
The distrust towards Russians emerged even more during the first days of March when many Georgians complained that Russian citizens living in Georgia had not taken to the streets with them to protest against the so-called “foreign agents’ law.”
The law, which lawmakers dropped on March 11 after days of mass protests in Tbilisi, would have required individuals, civil society organizations, and media outlets that receive 20 percent of their funding from abroad to register as an “agent of foreign influence” with the Georgian Justice Ministry.
The law was largely criticized by civil society groups, opposition politicians, human rights organizations, and even US and EU institutions. They argued the law was an attempt to suppress dissent and restrict freedom of expression in the country, and they compared it to similar legislation in Russia that Moscow has used to crack down on NGOs and independent journalism.
The government of Georgia has been defending the law, saying it was necessary to prevent foreign interference in the country’s political affairs. The term “foreign agent” has highly negative connotations in Georgia and is often associated with espionage and foreign interference. Therefore, supporters of the law argue that foreign governments or organizations may influence “agents” receiving funding from foreign sources and that it is important to ensure that they are transparent about their funding sources. On the other hand, critics of the law argue that by forcing entities and individuals to register as “foreign agents,” the government is trying to delegitimize them in the eyes of the public and stigmatize them as tools of foreign powers.
Alisa, a Russian woman who arrived in Tbilisi in April 2022 and who clearly defines herself as anti-Putin, told IPS that she was contacted on social media by a local resident with whom she had interacted. That person pressed for her to take to the streets to protest against the “foreign agents” law. The Georgian person told Alisa that it was not fair that Russians living in Georgia stand by and watch the protests without joining them and that if they wanted to enjoy the freedoms that are lacking in Russia, then they should actively participate in all aspects of the civic life of an ordinary Georgian citizen, including protesting against that law.
“I didn’t join the protests, not because I disagreed with the demonstrators. Indeed, it was a glorious moment for democracy and the demand for freedom. However, some Georgians should understand that for some Russian citizens, exposing themselves in a protest that is also indirectly against Russia can threaten their lives,” Alisa told IPS.
As Georgia continues to navigate its relationship with Russia and the West, the influx of Russians will undoubtedly play a role in shaping the country’s future. As of today, it is still not clear whether the Georgian government will change its policy toward Russian migrants. The country seems trapped in a dilemma that crosses economic, social, political, and geopolitical aspects. The need to ensure the continuation of economic growth in the short and medium terms suggests keeping the doors open to Russians.
On the other hand, this influx is causing ever-higher prices, which in the long run will probably end up harming the living conditions of the more economically vulnerable locals, facilitating urban gentrification and, potentially, higher social tensions. Finally, from a political and geopolitical perspective, the government in Tbilisi will have to deal with a growing push from the population to get closer to the West and Europe – as seen with the recent protests against the “foreign agents” law – in the face of an inevitable growing link with Russia, precisely given the strong presence of Russians in the country.
As Georgia continues to navigate its relationship with Russia and the West, the influx of Russians will undoubtedly play a role in shaping the country’s future. As of today, it is still not clear whether the Georgian government will change its policy toward Russian migrants. The country seems trapped in a dilemma that crosses economic, social, political, and geopolitical aspects.
The need to ensure the continuation of economic growth in the short and medium terms suggests keeping the doors open to Russians. On the other hand, this influx is causing ever-higher prices, which in the long run will probably end up harming the living conditions of the more economically vulnerable locals, facilitating urban gentrification and, potentially, higher social tensions. Finally, from a political and geopolitical perspective, the government in Tbilisi will have to deal with a growing push from the population to get closer to the West and Europe in the face of an inevitable growing link with Russia, precisely given the strong presence of Russians in the country.
It is estimated that about a hundred thousand migrants work in the greenhouses, scattered throughout the area. Credit: Floris Cup/IPS
by Floris Cup, Arnaud De Decker (almeria, spain)
Inter Press Service
ALMERIA, Spain, Feb 24 (IPS) – Chances are that the fruits and vegetables sold in European supermarkets have been picked and packed by a migrant worker in southern Spain. By the tens of thousands, they work there, in sweltering hot plastic greenhouses – often underpaid and without residence permit – in the vegetable garden of Europe. “Cheap vegetables, yes. But at what price?”
It is a sunny Saturday afternoon, warm and dry, when we leave the city of Almería, in the southern province of Andalusia, to drive towards the countryside. Leaving the freeway, the lane narrows and turns into a dirt road. The hot desert breeze blows a dusty, brown cloud of sand into the air that completely covers the car in no time. We take a slight turn and drive past impressive mountain ranges.
After ten minutes of driving, in the shadow of a series of imposing rocks, a sea of white plastic appears before us, stretching as far as the eye can see, before merging into the Mediterranean Sea. Thousands of greenhouses are neatly arranged in endless straight rows that turn the arid landscape pale. In all, the greenhouses cover an area 30,000 hectares, visible from outer space.
We park the car along the road near the village of Barraquente, a thirty-minute drive east of Almería, and head out into the hot desert. A day earlier we got word of a slum, a “barrio de chabolas”, around here. Undocumented workers picking fruits and vegetables in the greenhouses and working the fields for meager wages are said to have built semi-permanent homes with scrap metal over the years.
Lethal cocktail
Since Spain joined the European Economic Community, the forerunner of the European Union, in the 1980s, agriculture in the province of Andalusia became increasingly intensified and industrialized. Small farms gave way to agricultural giants as monoculture gradually became the norm and has since then become a very lucrative business, with a total annual export value of twelve billion euros worth of agricultural products, destined for the entire European market.
To meet the ever-growing demand for fruits and vegetables from the rest of Europe, more and more hands are needed in the fields. And although Andalusia is one of the country’s poorest regions, with sky-high unemployment rates, it is mostly underpaid undocumented migrants who perform the ungrateful jobs. Temperatures in the greenhouses soar above 45 degrees Celsius in the summer, drinking water is scarce and, combined with the intensive use of pesticides, the work on that southern outskirt of Europe forms a deadly cocktail.
Estimates vary, but according to union representative José García Cueves, about a hundred thousand migrants work in the greenhouses, scattered throughout the area. Along with his wife, José García represents union SOC SAT, the only organization that exposes and represents the interests of the victims of exploitation in the greenhouses around Almería.
Flat tires
“Spaniards prefer to leave those jobs for migrant workers. They come from North and West Africa, from countries like Morocco, Senegal, Guinea or Nigeria, and in most cases they don’t have residence permits, making them easy targets for the local greengrocers,” he says from behind his cluttered office in an impoverished neighborhood of Almería.
Despite his noble mission, José is not loved by most Andalusians, quite the contrary. “The farmers could drink our blood. The tires of my car get regularly punctured and physical intimidation is also not exceptional.”
“Even the local authorities turn a blind eye to the region’s problems and challenges. All in the name of economic growth,” Garcia said. “Look, there are only 12 inspectors responsible for greenhouse inspections, and that’s in a vast area where you can drive around for hours without running into anyone. Do you think that’s realistic? Workers are reduced to expendable tools, overnight someone can lose their job.”
Thousands of greenhouses are neatly arranged in endless straight rows that turn the arid landscape pale. In all, the greenhouses cover an area 30,000 hectares, visible from outer space. Credit: Arnaud De Decker/IPS
Afraid of the sea
In the slum by the roadside, we speak with one of the workers, Richard, a 26-year-old man from Nigeria. Bathing in sweat, he arrives on his bicycle. His morning shift in the greenhouse is over and he takes us into the village. The sun is at its highest, it is scorching hot.
“The shifts start early in the morning, when the temperature is still bearable,” he points out. “By noon we are entitled to a break, because it is too hot to work then. Around 5 p.m. we return into the greenhouse and pick tomatoes and peppers until after sunset.” He says the hard work earns him about thirty euros a day.
The young man puffs, grabs a bottle of water from a decayed refrigerator and falls down in a dusty seat in the scorching sun. His clothes and worn-out shoes are covered in dust. “I have lived here for two years now,” he says in between large gulps of water. Via Morocco, he crossed the Mediterranean Sea by boat. “It was dangerous, I can’t swim and was afraid of falling overboard.” Through a shadowy network of human smugglers, Richard ended up here in Andalusia, undocumented.
Traces of destruction
We move further into the village, accompanied by Richard, when several residents gather around us. They point to a large pile of sand, one meter high, that has been raised like a wall around one part of the camp. Two years ago, a large fire broke out there, killing one person. “We were able to stop the fire by digging a large moat, preventing it from spreading throughout the camp,” they say. Traces of the fire are still clearly visible; blackened shoes and charred clothes are still scattered throughout the moat.
Fire is the greatest danger for many residents. Unionist José Garcia confirms this. The various homes in the slum have grown intertwined. They are made of wood and recycled plastic from the greenhouses. Combined with the hot weather and dryness of the desert, those neighborhoods form a dangerous cocktail of easily flammable fuels.
Homemade gym
Still, the residents of the camp try to make the best of it. They take us to a small hut where they stare furiously at an English Premier League football match. Further down the camp, a man is doing his dishes. They illegally tap running water – and electricity – from the regular grid. The atmosphere is good. Boubacar, 24, from Senegal, proudly shows us the gym he was able to cobble together with his own hands using some materials lying around: empty cans filled with concrete have been transformed into homemade dumbbells and a large bag of sand serves as a weight to train his back.
Next to the gym is a vegetable garden where traditional African crops grow. The peace is disturbed when a Spaniard arrives in a red van. Half a dozen men rush up to it and begin negotiating vigorously with the man. It turns out he is selling fish. “Straight from the sea,” he proudly proclaims. The boys don’t care what kind of fish they buy. “We have no choice. Because of our limited budget, we can’t really afford to be picky.”
Many residents of the camps are eager to get out of the area. “Once we have worked for five years, we will become a long-term resident of the European Union, so we can travel freely around Europe,” says Boubacar. How exactly that works out, he does not know. “It depends on my boss and how well I do my job. I hope to live in France or even the Netherlands and build a life there with my family, away from Spain. There is no future here.”
Rohingya IDPs confined to a Sittwe camp in Rakhine State wait for international intervention. More than 1.5 million people are displaced in Myanmar. Credit: Sara Perria/IPS
by Guy Dinmore, Thompson Chau (bangkok)
Inter Press Service
BANGKOK, Feb 21 (IPS) – Nearly 18 million people – about one-third of Myanmar’s population – need humanitarian aid this year because of civil war and the post-coup economic crisis, according to the latest United Nations estimates.
The numbers needing support continue to rise from the estimated 14 million people needing aid last year. More than 10,000 people were displaced by fighting in southern Kayin State in early January alone, joining more than 1.5 million IDPs across the country.
The UN says it recognises the urgent need to remain in Myanmar and step up humanitarian operations, but it is caught between a hostile military junta imposing restrictions on its activities and a loose network of resistance groups accusing the world body of legitimising an illegal regime.
UN Secretary-General Antonio Guterres is also facing increasing criticism for his apparent hands-off leadership in the crisis.
“Almost 18 million people – nearly one-third of the Myanmar population – are estimated to be in humanitarian need nationwide in 2023, with conflict continuing to threaten the lives of civilians in many parts of the country,” said Ramanathan Balakrishnan, UN Resident and Humanitarian Coordinator for Myanmar.
He told IPS that international and local humanitarian aid organisations are “using a range of approaches” in different areas and had reached over four million people in 2022 despite severe underfunding and what he called “heavy bureaucratic and access constraints”.
Balakrishnan defended the importance of the UN’s engagement with General Min Aung Hlaing’s regime, which has ruthlessly crushed dissent since seizing power two years ago and overthrowing the elected government led by Aung San Suu Kyi.
“Principled engagement with all sides is a must to negotiate access and also to advocate on key protection issues. Advocacy to stop the heavy fighting and airstrikes in populated areas that are threatening the safety of both civilians and aid workers is as important as reaching people in need with humanitarian aid,” he said.
Aid workers accuse the junta of further restricting aid operations and blocking urgently needed aid from reaching millions of people. The regime admitted this month it cannot effectively administer about one-third of Myanmar’s townships. But it is able to choke access to some areas controlled by resistance groups and ethnic armed organisations that have been fighting the military for decades.
The junta is seeking to impose its authority with a new law making registration compulsory for national and international non-governmental organizations and associations and introducing criminal penalties for non-registered entities with up to five years of imprisonment.
“Civic space has been decimated in the country already due to the military’s actions, particularly its systematic harassment, arrest, and prosecution of anyone who opposed their coup,” said James Rodehaver, chief of the UN Human Rights Office for South-East Asia (OHCHR) Myanmar Team. “These new rules could greatly diminish what operational space is left for civic organisations to deliver essential goods and services to a population that is struggling to survive.”
Muslim Rohingya IDPs wait for aid to be unloaded in Pawktaw camp in Rakhine State, an hour by boat from the main city of Sittwe. Credit: Sara Perria/IPS
Many of the more than one million refugees outside Myanmar also need help. Most are stateless Rohingya Muslims forced out of Rakhine State into Bangladesh in waves of ethnic cleansing before the 2021 coup, with many held in border camps.
The UN’s reputation was already battered before the coup over its handling of the long-festering Rohingya crisis in which it was accused by aid workers and activists of being too accommodating with the Myanmar military. And it has come under further fire since.
In a joint letter last September, more than 600 Burmese civil society organisations said they “condemn in the strongest terms the recent public signing of new agreements and presenting of letters of appointment to the illegitimate Myanmar military junta by UN agencies, funds, programmes and other entities working inside Myanmar.”
“We call on you and all UN entities to immediately cease all forms of cooperation and engagement that lends legitimacy to the illegal, murderous junta,” said the letter addressed to the UN Secretary-General. The signatories argued that letters of appointment and agreements should be presented to what they regard as the legitimate government of Myanmar – the parallel National Unity Government established by ousted lawmakers – and “ethnic revolutionary organisations.”
A Myanmar researcher specialising in civil society and international assistance highlighted the role of Burmese CSOs in delivering aid. “Local CSOs comprehend the complexity of specific local needs in the current crisis as the communities they serve struggle with security concerns and essential public services, including healthcare and education,” said the researcher, who goes by the name Kyaw Swar for fear of security reprisals.
He said that donors and foreign organisations had adopted risk aversion arrangements post-coup, referring to UN and INGO’s costs for capacity-building components and disproportionate country-office operations. “Local CSOs have fewer operations, and risk management options have no choice but to channel international aid to their respective communities.”
UN officials reject the notion that they are legitimising the regime and insist that only by operating in the junta-controlled heartland and also through cross-border assistance can aid be delivered to a substantial part of the population in desperate need.
“The UN finds itself in an almost existential bind. It can’t engage with an oppressive regime without being seen to condone its actions,” commented Charles Petrie, former UN Assistant Secretary-General and former UN chief in Myanmar.
“Somehow, the UN’s senior leadership needs to convince all that engaging in a dialogue with a pariah regime is not the same as supporting it and that it should be judged on the outcome of the discussions rather than being condemned for the simple fact of engaging,” he said.
“But being able to do so successfully implies that it has the level of credibility that right now it still needs to rebuild,” he added.
Questions have also been raised about the apparent lack of hands-on leadership on the part of Guterres. The UN Secretary-General seems to have made little personal intervention beyond routine statements, such as the latest marking the second anniversary of the coup in which he condemned “all forms of violence” and said he “continues to stand in solidarity with the people of Myanmar and to support their democratic aspirations for an inclusive, peaceful and just society and the protection of all communities, including the Rohingya.”
Since the coup and despite the unfolding humanitarian crisis, Guterres is seen as having taken a back seat and delegating to two successive special envoys. This stands in contrast to his predecessor Ban Ki-moon who actively intervened during the Cyclone Nargis disaster in 2008, personally meeting then-junta leader General Than Shwe and negotiating the opening of Myanmar to aid workers.
Petrie suggested Guterres should take a page out of Ban’s book and provide much more active leadership on Myanmar and be “more openly engaged and supportive of the work done by his special envoy.”
While China and Russia lend military and other support to the junta, much of the rest of the diplomatic world has taken a step back from the Myanmar crisis, leaning instead on ASEAN to assume the lead.
But the 10-member bloc has been ineffective so far. It has coordinated an unprecedented shunning of the junta’s leadership in regional meetings, but neighbouring countries – with their own blemished democratic records – are unwilling to penalise the regime. The ASEAN Coordinating Centre for Humanitarian Assistance on Disaster Management (AHA Centre) has been charged to respond to the humanitarian crisis, but with no success.
Laetitia van den Assum, the former Dutch ambassador to Myanmar and Thailand, said the aid response would have been more effective if ASEAN had set up a partnership between AHA and experienced UN and other organisations.
“That, in fact, is what happened in the aftermath of Nargis, when under the strong leadership of Dr Surin Pitsuwan, ASEAN and UN worked in tandem. It took time to put the effort together, but ultimately it took off,” van den Assum told IPS.
As with the UN leadership, Lim Jock Hoi, a Bruneian government official who was ASEAN chief until last month, was barely noticed on the issue of Myanmar, in stark contrast to Pitsuwan, who helped persuade Than Shwe to accept humanitarian assistance in 2008 when Cyclone Nargis killed over 100,000 people.
“UN agencies like OCHA, WFP and UNICEF, as well as many dedicated INGOs, continue to provide assistance, more often than not under difficult circumstances, and with countless Myanmar civil society organisations playing critical roles,” Van den Assum observed.
“But until now, the SAC has stood in the way of more effective aid,” she added. “What is missing is an overall agreement between Myanmar and ASEAN about such assistance, how to expand it and how to guarantee that all those in need are served. ASEAN and AHA have not been able to deliver on this.”
Observers point out that AHA is set up to respond to natural disasters and has no experience in intervening with aid in conflict situations.
“That had already become clear in 2018 when AHA was tasked to make recommendations for ASEAN assistance to northern Rakhine state after the enforced deportation of more than 750,000 Rohingya. The initiative died a slow death,” Van den Assum said.
“AHA was not to blame. Rather, ASEAN politicians had taken a decision without first considering whether it was the most advisable approach,” the veteran diplomat said.
No breakthrough is in sight. The junta has extended a state of emergency for another six months, admitting that it lacks control over many areas for the new elections it says it wants to stage but which have already been widely denounced by the resistance as a sham.
“Heavy fighting, including airstrikes, tight security, access restrictions, and threats against aid workers have continued unabated, particularly in the Southeast, endangering lives and hampering humanitarian operations,” the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs reported in its latest update.
BRIGHTON, UK, Feb 17 (IPS) – Since researching the experiences of gender discrimination against women in poverty who belong to religious minorities, many fellow feminists have turned their back on me.
The inherent assumption among some of my feminist critics is that by defending women who are targeted on account of their religious affiliation, I am defending their religions. Yet defending the rights of a Hindu woman in Pakistan or Muslim woman in India do not constitute defending Hinduism or Islam.
Defending a woman’s right not to be discriminated against because of her identity and challenging religious bigotry both go hand in hand. We need to challenge all political projects that seek to homogenize people while simultaneously defending women, minorities, artists and others whose positioning accentuates their experiences of inequality.
Feminist reluctance to address injustices experienced by women who belong to religious minorities is also driven by concern that we end up empowering religious movements whose ethos is against women’s equality.
Again, we need to distinguish between women who are the targets of hate because they do not share the same faith as the majority, and anti-feminist movements who often are from the majority. We need to show solidarity with the former while challenging the latter.
Yet can we be inadvertently reproduce a colonialist mindset when we decide to omit the experiences of minority women out of fear of misappropriation in the west?
Why should women who have experienced genocide be denied transnational feminist solidarities because it would be more progressive to focus on the Muslims who were against the genocide.
Research undertaken by the Coalition for Religious Equality and Inclusive Development, shows that in countries including Iraq, Pakistan and Nigeria, experiences for women are made worse where their experiences of gender inequality, religious marginality and socio-economic exclusion intersect.
Even if you belong to the majority religion, and you cover up more than the others, this still means exposure to harassment for being seen to practice the religion differently, as experienced by Ahmediyya women in Pakistan and the Izala Sufi women in Nigeria.
Women from religious minorities can also be at significant risk of sexual assault. While all women in patriarchal societies are exposed to sexual harassment independently of their religious affiliation, women affiliated to religiously marginalized communities are targeted because of the circulation of stereotypes that they are more available or ‘fair game’ or that men are not obligated to respect them the same respect as those from the majority religion.
While all women living in poverty suffer the impact of gender, caste and socio-economic exclusion combined, the experiences of discrimination become more acute and severe when shaped by ideological prejudice.
In our research in the aftermath of covid, Muslim women spoke about being denied health care because of the scapegoating of Muslims for the spread of the pandemic, while in Iraq Yazidi women spoke of how despicable stereotypes of Yazidi women not washing meant doctors denied them treatment.
The feminist movement cannot continue to represent itself as committed to inclusivity through intersectionality (the recognition of and redress to- interface of gender, race, class, ableism and so forth in shaping and influencing power dynamics) while turning its back on women who come from a religious minority background where their rights are denied.
Certainly, there are feminist movements, scholars and those engaged in policymaking who recognize and seek redress for discrimination on grounds of religion experienced by socio-economically excluded women, but it seems they are the exception, rather than the norm.
It is not too late for us to be inclusive, and this International Women’s Day we should recognize and show solidarity with women who belong to religious minorities living on the margins. We just have to start by not making excuses for their omission from our “intersectional lens”.
Two of the six Russian women who were detained by the Argentine immigration authorities when they reached the country on Feb. 8 and 9 sleep in the Buenos Aires airport. A federal judge ruled that they were placed in a situation of vulnerability and ordered that they be allowed to enter the country. CREDIT: TV Capture
by Daniel Gutman (buenos aires)
Inter Press Service
BUENOS AIRES, Feb 16 (IPS) – They began to arrive en masse in Argentina in the second half of 2022, a few months after the Russian invasion of Ukraine. They are pregnant Russian women who land in the capital to give birth, with the hope of gaining an Argentine passport, given the fact that so many countries refuse to let in people with Russian passports today.
Authorities are investigating whether they are the victims of scams by organizations holding out false promises.
“Of the 985 deliveries we attended in 2022, 85 were to Russian women and 37 of them were in December. This trend continued in January and so far in February,” Liliana Voto, Head of the Maternal and Child Youth Department at the Fernández Hospital, one of the most renowned public health centers in the Argentine capital, located in the Palermo neighborhood, told IPS.
“Some come with an interpreter and others use a translation app on their phones. We do not ask them how they got to Argentina, but it is clear that there is an organization behind this,” added Voto.
In this South American country, public health centers treat patients free of charge, whether or not they have Argentine documents.
The issue exploded into the headlines on Feb. 8-9, when the immigration authorities detained six pregnant Russian women who had just landed at the Ezeiza international airport, on charges of not actually being tourists as they claimed.
The six women filed for habeas corpus and on Feb. 10 a federal judge ordered that they be allowed to enter the country, after some of them spent more than 48 hours on airport seats.
The ruling handed down by Judge Luis Armella stated that the authorities’ decision not to let them into the country put the women in a vulnerable situation that affected their rights “to proper medical care, food, hygiene and rest,” and said he was allowing them into the country to also protect the rights of their unborn children.
In addition, the judge ordered a criminal investigation into whether there is an organization behind the influx of pregnant Russian women that is scamming them or has committed other crimes. The results of the investigation are sealed.
On Feb. 10, shortly after the court ruling was handed down, 33 Russian women who were between 32 and 34 weeks pregnant arrived in Buenos Aires on an Ethiopian Airlines flight from Addis Ababa. (There are no direct flights between Russia and Argentina.)
As reported by the national director of the migration service, Florencia Carignano, in 2022, 10,500 people of Russian nationality entered Argentina and 5,819 of them were pregnant women.
The immigration authorities carried out an investigation in which it interviewed 350 pregnant Russian women in Argentina. They discovered that there is an organization that “offers them, in exchange for a large sum of money, a ‘birth tourism’ package, and gaining an Argentine passport is the main reason for the trip,” Carignano tweeted.
The Fernández Hospital, in the Palermo neighborhood of Buenos Aires, is one of the most prestigious public health centers in Argentina. In December 2022, 37 Russian women gave birth there. CREDIT: Daniel Gutman/IPS
“Argentina’s history and legislation embrace immigrants who choose to live in this country in search of a better future. This does not mean we endorse mafia organizations that profit by offering scams to obtain our passport, to people who do not want to live here,” she added.
Under Argentine law, foreign nationals who have a child born in Argentina are immediately given permanent residency status, in a process that takes a few months. To obtain citizenship, they have to prove two years of uninterrupted residence here, in a federal court.
“Becoming a citizen is a difficult process that takes many years. If the organizations promise Russian women a passport in a few months, they are lying or there is corruption behind this,” Lourdes Rivadeneyra, head of the Migrant and Refugee Program at the National Institute against Discrimination (INADI), told IPS.
Rights in Argentina
“One thing are human trafficking networks, which make false promises in exchange for large sums of money, and another thing is the rights of women to enter Argentina and have their children here. They are victims,” Christian Rubilar, a lawyer for three of the six women who were held in the Ezeiza airport, told IPS.
Rubilar pointed out that the constitution guarantees essential rights “for all people in the world who want to live in Argentina.” He added that the country’s laws do not mention “false tourists”, and that therefore the immigration office exceeded its authority by denying them access to the country.
Argentina received different waves of European migration from the end of the 19th century until the middle of the 20th century. This created a culture of respect for the rights of immigrants among citizens and in the country’s legislation, which see Argentina as a land that welcomes foreigners in trouble, such as Venezuelans who have arrived in large numbers in the past few years.
Since Russian President Vladimir Putin invaded Ukraine on Feb. 24, 2022, hundreds of thousands of people have fled Russia, in what has been described by some as a third historic exodus, after the ones that followed the Russian Revolution in 1917 and the fall of the Soviet Union in 1989.
Although there are no official figures, recently the English newspaper The Guardian estimated that between 500,000 and one million people have left Russia since the beginning of the war. Many leave out of fear of being sent to the front lines, or because they are in conflict with the government or due to the consequences of international economic sanctions on the country.
The RuArgentina website offers a package of services including a hospital birth for pregnant woman in Buenos Aires and the promise of obtaining Argentine passports for the parents, which gives them entrance without a visa to most countries around the world. CREDIT: Online ad
As can be quickly verified in an Internet search, there are organizations operating in Argentina that promise Russian women who give birth in this country that they and their husbands can quickly obtain citizenship here.
“Give birth in Argentina. We help you move to Argentina, obtain permanent residence and a passport, which gives you visa-free entry to 170 countries around the world,” announces the RuArgentina website, which offers a package that includes accommodation in Buenos Aires, medical assistance, the help of a translator and aid in applying for documents, among other services for pregnant women.
The founder of RuArgentina is a Russian living in Argentina, Kirill Makoveev, who said in an interview on TV that “there are a variety of reasons why our clients come to Argentina: some want a passport because the Russian passport is toxic now. So we explain that the constitution and immigration laws here allow you to obtain a passport without breaking the law.”
The Russian Embassy in Buenos Aires did not respond to IPS’s request for comments, but the pregnant women have not been defended by the Russian community in Argentina.
“They are not coming to Argentina as immigrants, to work and seek a better future, as many Russians did in different waves of immigration. They are coming in order to use Argentina as a springboard to go to Western European countries or the United States,” Silvana Yarmolyuk, director of the Coordinating Council of Organizations of Russian Compatriots in Argentina, which brings together 23 community associations from all over the country, told IPS. .
Yarmolyuk, who was born in Argentina and is the daughter of a Ukrainian father and a Russian mother, said that the Russians who are coming to Argentina now are people of certain means who are taking advantage of Argentina’s flexible immigration policies.
“Just the ticket from Russia to Argentina costs about 3,000 dollars,” she said. “The danger is that this exacerbates the spread of Russophobia, which hurts all of us.”
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