Hidden Afghanistan

From the apricot and walnut groves of the beautiful Panjshir valley, to the strips of cultivated green set against the dry pink and tan of the mountains in Bamyan, to the glittering sapphire blue lakes of Band-e Amir, I went in search of the real Afghanistan.

The country’s rich cultural history, rugged landscape, and the legendary generosity of Afghan people, have long been a draw for adventurers and travellers alike, but for now, still struggling with deep-rooted insurgency, Afghanistan remains firmly off the radar for most. Plagued by terrorism and war, the most recent cycle of bloodshed and instability has left the country with a reputation for violence and little good ever makes our TV screens in the West. For too many, our narrative around countries like Afghanistan has been reduced to a single story.

As part of my work on a book called Life in the Himalayas — looking at people’s everyday working lives throughout this diverse and magnificent mountain range, from the high plateau of Tibet to the foothills of Myanmar — I spent three weeks documenting the lives of agropastoralists in Afghanistan, and exploring this battered but beautiful country. I set out to focus on rural areas, everyday life and culture, going in search of the real Afghanistan, away from the vestiges of war and terror.

Kabul

I started off in the bustling markets in the country’s capital, Kabul, a chaotic little jungle of trinket shops, carpet sellers and giant chunks of Lapis filling windows. Occasionally I felt uneasy under the stares of watchful eyes as I poked my way through the dusty streets. Mostly it felt like any other vibrant bazaar in Asia, people going about their busy day.
 

I ate in smoke filled restaurants sitting cross-legged on cushions. Whole sheep carcasses are hung directly above the stove and the cook simply butchers off the bits he needs and throws them into a big black pot, along with fistfuls of fresh herbs and spices. Huge roundels of hot naan breads are piled high on the tables and you pay for what you eat. There is a genuine old-world feeling in Kabul that is rare to find these days.
 

Panjshir Valley

From Kabul I travelled to Istalif, a district famous for its distinctive blue pottery, and then by road to the stunning Panjshir Valley, one of the most celebrated places in Afghanistan, located in the heart of the Hindu Kush mountains. Its name means ‘Valley of the Five Lions,’ which according to local legend refers to five spiritual protectors or ‘wali’ who built a dam here during the early 11th century AD for Sultan Mahmud of Ghazni.
 

The Panjshir river starts from a narrow gorge where snowmelt turn the river into a torrent, rich with fish. It gradually widens into the valley to reveal carefully irrigated fields of wheat and maize dotted with walnut, apricot and mulberry groves. 90 percent of farmers in Panjshir Province practice subsistence agriculture, and the war has destroyed irrigation canals and orchards, making many aspects of farmers’ lives a challenge.
 

In recent years, however, international initiatives have assisted local and regional government leaders to introduce improved varieties of wheat and educate farmers on methods for improving yields and irrigation.
 

Bamiyan

In the heart of the Hazarajat, Bamiyan is surely one of the most beautiful parts of the whole country. It was a popular tourist destination during the 1970s, but a decade later became a symbol of resistance to the Soviets. Today, although the valley is still dominated by the gaping cavities in the cliff face, and the rubble is a constant reminder of the Taliban’s rage and destruction of the two ancient Buddha, there is far more to Bamiyan.
 

Guarding the entrance to Bamiyan valley, the ruins of Shahr-e Zohak form a dramatic citadel — perched high on the cliffs at the confluence of the Bamiyan and Kalu rivers. The towers here are some of the most imposing in all of Afghanistan, and are made of mud-brick on stone foundations, with intricate geometric patterns built into their walls. With no doors, they were accessed by ladders that the defenders pulled up behind them.
 

Looking down from the citadel, the views are incredible, with the thin strips of cultivated green in neighbouring valleys like Fulladi providing a striking contrast to the dry pink and tan of the Koh-i Baba mountains.
 

At first glance, the barren hills of the Bamiyan valley appear to promise little, but the snowmelt that issues from them each spring allows the farmers here to irrigate the valley floor and grow crops like potatoes.
 

Donkeys are still the main source of transport in this rural province, and shepherds and their flocks are often compelled to walk long distances.
 

Band-e Amir

Meanwhile, the glittering sapphire blue lakes of Band-e Amir are one of Afghanistan’s most astounding natural sights. In April 2009, Band-e Amir was named the country’s first national park, 36 years after a previous attempt to do so was interrupted by decades of political strife and war.

Formed by the mineral-rich water that seeps out of faults and cracks in the rocky landscape, the six linked lakes of Band-e Amir sparkle like jewels against the dusty mountains that surround them.

Over time layers of hardened mineral deposits called travertine have built up on the shores, to create the dramatic sheer sides that now hold the lakes in place. Local lore tells a different story, asserting that these natural dams were thrown into place by Hazrat Ali, the prophet Muhammad’s son-in-law, during the reign of the infidel king Barbar.

Before gaining its status as a national park this region experienced significant habitat destruction for firewood and farmland, overgrazing and overhunting — the snow leopard has now vanished here — and also damaging fishing practices that involved using hand grenades. Today Band-e-Amir is protected by a small group of park rangers, and is still home to ibex (wild goats), urials (wild sheep), and wolves. Although numbers of visitors to the park remain small, it is hoped that in time, this region will become an important area for tourism in Afghanistan.
 

Herat

Finally in Herat, the country’s old cultural heart, I felt more welcome than anywhere else in the country. Chatting to passing nomads on the outskirts of the city, inside its little bazaars, visiting the Friday Mosque — one of Islam’s great buildings — I spoke openly with burqa sellers about the state of the country. Here I discovered an Afghanistan most people simply don’t know exists. Afghans are proud of their culture, they are welcoming, generous and have a sharp sense of humour.

On my last day, insurgents attacked one of the big hotels in Kabul. I could hear helicopters and sirens all day and was advised that it was best not to leave the house. The next morning a gunfight broke out beside the road on the way to the airport. Sand bags and gun turrets occupy every corner and the frequent security checks are a sobering reminder of how unstable and precarious daily life is for the people of Afghanistan, whose resilience remains under great strain in these troubled times.

Let us hope that one day, a lasting peace will come to this battered, but proud and ancient country, allowing travellers to experience its beauty and welcome, and to step onto the fabled silk route once more.
 

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON MAPTIA.

Driven by his passion for travel, the environment and remote cultures, Alex Treadway has travelled to dozens of countries around the world on assignment.

Africa Faces Higher Food Insecurity Due to COVID-19

Africa experiences food insecurity due to poverty, conflict, climate change and a lack of access to food. When COVID-19 hit, it made all of these matters much worse.

A man inspects failed corn crops in Mauritania. Oxfam International. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

Although made significantly more severe by COVID-19, food insecurity has been a serious concern worldwide for decades, mostly caused by economic shocks, climate change and conflict. According to the U.N. Food and Agriculture Organization, 239 million people in sub-Saharan Africa were undernourished as of 2018.

The COVID-19 pandemic has heightened food insecurity across the world by reducing incomes and disrupting food supply chains. The United Nations warns that about three dozen countries—Ethiopia, Nigeria and South Sudan included—could experience major famines this year, pushing 130 million more people to starvation. East Africa’s biggest locust invasion in 70 years combined with the impact of COVID-19 threatens to drive 25 million people into hunger. Research from a series of high-frequency phone surveys shows that over 105 million adults have been affected by some degree of food insecurity across Uganda, Nigeria, Malawi, Ethiopia and Burkina Faso following the onset of the pandemic. Devastated food sources and billions of dollars in crop damage may push residents over the edge.

In addition, preventive measures like border closures, lockdowns and curfews intended to slow the spread of COVID-19 are disrupting supply chains that struggled to keep markets well-stocked even before the pandemic. At least 60% of the African population is dependent on agriculture for their livelihoods and access to food, and disruptions to this system caused by COVID-19 are threatening this group’s food security.

A man tending to his crops in Uganda. Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade. CC BY 2.0.

Most African countries rely heavily on food imports; between 2016 and 2018, Africa imported about 85% of its food from outside the continent. Heavy reliance on world markets is extremely detrimental to food security, and export bans imposed by major food exporters due to COVID-19 made the region even more vulnerable. If trade blockages persist, agricultural production in Africa could decrease by between 2.6% and 7%.

African countries are also reporting shortages and price spikes for some domestic food crops, such as millet, sorghum and maize. In addition, the disruption of marketing and trade activities, combined with panic-buying during the pandemic, intensified food price increases and caused both rural and urban consumers to lose purchasing power.

As a direct result of rising food prices, the availability and affordability of nutritious food has plummeted. Nutrient-rich foods like eggs, fruit and vegetables are 10 times more expensive than staple foods like rice or wheat in sub-Saharan Africa, so vulnerable families were forced to buy cheaper and less nutritious food to survive, adding to a rise in malnutrition and obesity.

In addition, school closures in South Africa have stopped a national feeding program that provides nutritious meals to 9 million poorer children.

Restrictions imposed by governments—lockdowns, travel bans and social distancing measures included—have increased the risk of food insecurity, and many low-income households have lost their livelihoods and ability to access markets.

A fruit and vegetable stand in Kampala, Uganda. World Bank Photo Collection. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

COVID-19 has clearly had a detrimental effect on food security in Africa, with 43% of households that were not severely food insecure in 2018 estimated to be severely food insecure as of June 2020.

However, there are ways to help, and many government programs have already started to alleviate some of the hunger in Africa. In Chad, a government project is providing food kits, establishing cereal banks and distributing seeds for future harvests so that households can survive the rest of the pandemic. In East Africa, the U.S. Agency for International Development’s Feed the Future program is supporting measures to keep food and agricultural inputs moving across borders and from ports to inland countries.

Although many efforts to help Africa are already in place, it is imperative that African countries take the necessary steps to build resilient, climate-friendly and competitive food systems so that they can survive COVID-19 and any future challenges.

To Get Involved:

Donating to Oxfam South Africa or Action Against Hunger will help to provide essential care to hungry families in Africa. Additionally, the U.N. World Food Program uses donations to deliver lifesaving food to those in need, wherever they may be located.

Another great way to help is by giving to The Hunger Project, which uses donations to implement programs that mobilize rural communities to achieve sustainable progress against hunger. These are just a few of the many ways to get involved to help end the crisis. To learn more, visit the United Nations’ website on hunger in Africa.

Isabelle Durso

Isabelle is an undergraduate student at Boston University currently on campus in Boston. She is double majoring in Journalism and Film & Television, and she is interested in being a travel writer and writing human-interest stories around the world. Isabelle loves to explore and experience new cultures, and she hopes to share other people's stories through her writing. In the future, she intends to keep writing journalistic articles as well as creative screenplays.

Amid COVID-19, Garment Workers Are Asking Employers to #PayUp

While the COVID-19 pandemic has slowed down many sectors of the economy, online sales have spiked—as well as the vulnerability of many laborers working with little to no safety net. 

Sweatshop workers mass producing fabrics for below average wages. Marissa Orton. CC BY-SA 2.0.

Since the beginning of COVID-19 lockdowns, e-commerce has reaped significant monetary benefits. In the United States alone, online sales rose 43% in September, totaling $60.4 billion. Though online shops gained countless new customers, not all in the industry were celebrating.

Since March, many frontline workers have been laid off. For example, the American startup company Everlane, a clothing line that promises “radical transparency,” came under fire for terminating workers who attempted to start a labor union amid the pandemic. Despite founder Michael Preysman’s statement that the layoffs were “the hardest decision we’ve ever had to make,” non-management employees called them out. Those who held leadership positions in the company retained most of their salaries.

Across the globe, COVID-19 has weakened both the bargaining power and socioeconomic mobility of garment workers. Its consequences have been especially devastating for those in developing nations. In India, the closure of schools has led around 80,000 children to begin working as laborers. If unaddressed, the pandemic could set the country back decades on child exploitation. With limited options, families are often strong-armed by traffickers into believing their children will lead better lives in the big city. Many never see their families again.   

As a European Trade Union Institute article reported, COVID-19 did not break labor rights; it only revealed how broken the system already was. In Leicester, England, predominantly female and migrant sweatshop workers from Eastern Europe, Bangladesh and Pakistan faced wages as low as $4.50 an hour, received threats and humiliation, and were even denied bathroom breaks.. A June report from Labour Behind the Label found that online fashion retailer Boohoo’s Leicester factory was operating at 100% capacity despite lockdown orders. In the same month, the company projected that its shares had increased by 22%.Some feel that fast-fashion workers are stuck in a lose-lose situation. A Bloomberg report found that the closure of roughly 1,090 garment factories in Bangladesh amounted to an economic loss of $1.5 billion. Workers were not entitled to unemployment benefits, rendering them even more vulnerable in the face of pandemic uncertainties. A Solidarity Center article found that because of social distancing measures, workers’ ability to unionize and collectively bargain for their rights was severely limited.

Not all hope is lost, however. COVID-19 has created opportunities for critical change. As online sales have gone up, so has social media usage. In March, after notable labels such as Nike, Gap and Levi’s had canceled billions of orders, the nonprofit organization Remake revealed the plight of garment workers through the #PayUp movement. Stores like H&M and Zara were pressured into compensating their suppliers for orders that had already been produced, passing that money on to workers. While the fight is far from over, garment workers’ future may become brighter as consumers take a longer glance at the fast-fashion industry

How To Get Involved:

  • The Awaj Foundation is a woman-led organization based on addressing gender-based violence in the garment industry. It supports workers from Bangladesh. For more information on ways to support it, click here.

  • Based in Los Angeles, the Garment Worker Center aims to restore agency and dignity back to workers currently strong-armed by sweatshop conditions. To learn more, visit its website here.

Rhiannon Koh

Rhiannon earned her B.A. in Urban Studies & Planning from UC San Diego. Her honors thesis was a speculative fiction piece exploring the aspects of surveillance technology, climate change, and the future of urbanized humanity. She is committed to expanding the stories we tell.

Evo Morales Returns in Triumph to Bolivia, Ending a Year in Exile

One year after he stepped down amid a contested election, the popular left-wing leader is back. Will he be content with his supporters’ love, or will he seek power as well?

Evo Morales waving the Wiphala, a symbol for South America’s Indigenous people. Brasil de Fato. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.

Exiled leaders rarely return so triumphantly. Evo Morales, president of Bolivia for 14 years before fleeing the country in November 2019, greeted a jubilant crowd when he crossed the border from Argentina and trekked to his home province of Chapare. Many expected a more forceful return, perhaps a march to the seat of government in La Paz. Rather, Morales traveled to where he started his political career at the precise moment when that career seems set to either end or begin again. 

If Morales plans to kick-start a new phase in his political career, he reenters in a much better position than when he started. Born to a poor family in the Orinoca region in 1959, his family moved with countless other families from the highland altiplanos to work on lowland coca farms, which provided poor Bolivians the best shot at a livable wage. The young Evo became a union leader, fiercely advocating for the rights of farmers when the United States’ war on drugs demanded the Bolivian government slash its supply of coca, its most profitable crop. In Bolivia, people chew on it or brew tea, but one ton of leaves can be refined into two pounds of cocaine base paste. 

A farmer pruning coca. Erik Cleves Kristensen. CC BY 2.0.

Morales’ experiences there fostered a brand of politics staunchly devoted to the poor and Indigenous communities through the institution of socialism. He joined and soon transformed the Movement for Socialism party (MAS) and became a one-term congressman. After leading violent street altercations that forced two presidents to resign, his ambitions expanded to the national realm. In 2006, the Bolivian people voted him in as president, beginning a 14-year-long tenure which would prove revolutionary.

For one, he was the first Indigenous president since the country’s independence in 1825. In a nation that is 42% Indigenous, this seems strange, but centuries of colonization and racism led to a society of haves and have-nots. An ethnic Aymara, Morales expanded MAS’s appeal to all Indigenous people, chafing many Whites and Mestizos who supported MAS in far fewer numbers. Some Indigenous communities found Morales’ embrace of Indigenous peoples hollow; he allowed drilling in forest reserves and expanded the amount of land settlers could clear. 

Man without a plan. Alain Bachellier. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0. 

Most of all, however, he presided over what many view as an economic miracle. Morales’ government reduced by two-thirds the amount of people living on less than $1.90 a day, the World Bank’s definition of extreme poverty. The high price of petroleum, another of Bolivia’s largest exports, allowed his administration to invest heavily in innovation and modernization. The widespread prosperity led many to ignore Morales’ authoritarian streak. He would often jail critics and journalists while piling lawsuits on his political rivals.

But when Morales ran for a fourth term against constitutional term limits, opponents found it unforgivable. A pause in vote-counting led many to believe he planned to rig the election, so thousands stormed the streets to protest the election results. Clashes broke out between pro- and anti-Morales protesters; 36 people died amid the violence. Once the military “recommended” Morales step down, he boarded a plane to Mexico and left Bolivia in the hands of little-known senator Jeanine Anez. 

She was a right-wing politician with exactly the opposite views of Morales. Where he proudly represented Indigenous peoples, Anez called them “savages.” (In his triumphant return, Morales sarcastically quipped, “The Bolivian right and the global right should know: the savages are back in government.”) Anez presided over an economic slump due to political unrest and COVID-19. She governed for 11 months before the electorate put in office Morales’ own protege Luis Arce.

Morales’ protege Luis Arce. Casa de América. CC By-NC-ND 2.0.

A bland, uncharismatic technocrat, Arce won broad appeal precisely because he was Morales’ choice. He engineered the economy during Morales’ presidency, so he can take credit for much of Bolivia’s prosperity. His support from the former president may prove both a blessing and a curse, however. He will struggle to distance himself from a controversial figure who still holds strong sway over MAS. His primary responsibility will be to maintain distance from Morales to the greatest extent possible.

For the time being, however, Morales will enjoy his warm welcome home. Crowds gleefully waved the Wiphala, a colorful checkered flag representing Indigenous peoples. Supporters dressed in their finest, most colorful Indigenous attire to celebrate his homecoming. Luis Arce neither met him in Chapare nor sent him a word of greeting. So far they hold no communication. For the sake of Bolivia’s democracy, many hope it will stay that way. 

Michael McCarthy

Michael is an undergraduate student at Haverford College, dodging the pandemic by taking a gap year. He writes in a variety of genres, and his time in high school debate renders political writing an inevitable fascination. Writing at Catalyst and the Bi-Co News, a student-run newspaper, provides an outlet for this passion. In the future, he intends to keep writing in mediums both informative and creative.

Syria’s Allies Exploit the Nation’s Strife

With friends like these, who needs enemies?

A long road to recovery. Chaoyue Pan. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

Bashar Assad didn’t survive his country’s civil war alone. Only with the help of Russia was he able to resist rebel forces and reestablish his grip on Syria. Now, his grip on power seems unshakable, and the question has moved from who will win to how Syria will rebuild. This challenge, however, Assad might have to do alone.

It will be a mighty task. Every aspect of Syria’s economy suffered in the almost decade long civil war. Oil, the country’s primary export, is being produced at one-sixth its prewar level, and last year’s wheat crop was half the prewar average. 60% of businesses have closed either permanently or temporarily. What savings citizens had are losing value fast, for the Syrian currency lost 70% of its value against the dollar. The forthcoming peace is preferable to war but far from easy. 

COVID-19 only adds to the country’s plight. The Assad regime has attempted to hide the extent of the devastation by blaming COVID-19 deaths on “pneumonia,” but the damage is clearly intense. Desperate for food and cash, many Syrians shirked lockdown measures. Other measures enforced in other countries are impossible to follow in a war zone. What little medical infrastructure existed has been swiftly overwhelmed. 

The ruins of Aleppo. Ihh Insani Yardim. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

Syria’s allies and neighbors seem content to watch its slow death and profit where they can. Recently, Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov visited not to help with reconstruction efforts but to scope out energy and construction contracts. Russia knows it can depend on Syria’s loyalty because the Assad regime has nowhere else to turn. Turkish involvement in Syria, meanwhile, focused on supporting anti-Assad rebels along with limiting the influence of regional Kurds, an ethnic group with aspirations of a nation-state.

What’s left of Azaz. Christiaan Triebert. CC BY-NC 2.0.

The United States and Europe provide only humanitarian aid. The U.S. heaped sanctions on Assad’s government in an effort to force at least a semi-democratic settlement, but Assad drifts still further into authoritarianism. At one point, President Donald Trump entertained assassinating the Syrian leader after his use of chemical weapons in 2018. “I would have rather taken him out. I had him all set. Mattis didn’t want to do it,” Trump said, referring to former Secretary of Defense James Mattis. To switch from a desire for assassination to a respectful negotiation would be a stark, and unlikely, change. 

Rather than give aid, Russia seems content to exploit Syria’s weaknesses. As always, the decisions of Syria’s leaders and allies will mainly affect Syrian citizens. The Assad regime’s finances have been bled so dry that it is rumored that customs officers and generals impound trucks and confiscate goods just to charge hefty bribes for their return. 

The plight of Syrian mercenaries illustrates just how dire life the situation has become. Years of fighting created a generation of young men whose only marketable skill is waging war. With no fighting left to be done at home and hungry families to feed, these men have enlisted as mercenary soldiers for Turkey and Russia. Once on the fringe of Syrian life, brick and mortar offices now house recruiters who advertise on WhatsApp, often lying about the safety of certain deployments. Families have more or less accepted fighting as a necessary means to make a living. In the current economy, there are no other options. 

Nowhere left to run. a.anis. CC BY-ND 2.0.

What these fighters make can hardly be called a living. A soldier earns the equivalent of $1 a day, most of which has to be sent home to their family. Syrian mercenaries were deployed in 2019 to fight the conflict in Libya, and just recently, they were deployed to fight for Azerbaijan against Armenia in the disputed Nagorno-Karabakh territory. Russia and Turkey have made pawns out of Syria’s most desperate citizens to support their foreign policy expansions. As one Syrian businessman loyal to Assad observed, “Our saviors have become vultures.”

Syria’s isolation will only intensify in the near future. The Netherlands recently announced that it is preparing a case for the International Criminal Court at The Hague for “gross human rights violations and torture in particular.” Russia repeatedly blocked efforts from the U.N. Security Council to refer such a case, but the Netherlands has bypassed the U.N. altogether. It is yet another thrust from the international community to move Assad in a more democratic direction., For the time being, however, Assad refuses to budge and the plight of Syrians is likely to continue. 

Michael McCarthy

Michael is an undergraduate student at Haverford College, dodging the pandemic by taking a gap year. He writes in a variety of genres, and his time in high school debate renders political writing an inevitable fascination. Writing at Catalyst and the Bi-Co News, a student-run newspaper, provides an outlet for this passion. In the future, he intends to keep writing in mediums both informative and creative.

Has South Africa’s Booze Ban Helped in the Fight Against COVID-19?

To slow the spread of COVID-19, the government banned alcohol sales. Now, the country asks, “Was it worth it?”

A South African enjoying a glass of wine. World Bank Photo Collection. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

South Africans woke up before dawn to line up in front of liquor stores. Since March 27, alcohol sales had been prohibited to curb the spread of COVID-19, but on June 1, nine long weeks of sobriety ended. With the threat of another surge in cases—and another prohibition on booze—looming over the country, drinkers nationwide stocked up while they had the chance.

The ban was a forceful and unprecedented measure for a country that has suffered the most cases of COVID-19 in Africa. The long lines demonstrated the important role alcohol plays in South African culture and social life, as does the annoyed reaction of many citizens. In a crowded country with many shared living spaces in urban areas, the ban on alcohol has often been viewed as an extraneous measure that has endangered innumerable small businesses and infantilized the South African people.

Alcohol figures into the country’s history in a variety of ways. Under apartheid, Black South Africans were forbidden from buying or consuming alcohol, so its consumption became an act of rebellion against racial injustice. For mixed-race workers in rural areas, many were paid in liquor rather than money, leading to dependency on the substance for thousands. In other areas, traditional methods of brewing beer have long provided locals with their own source. Under the ban, South Africans of every background, race and class have had to cut their consumption down to zero.

A South African woman brewing umqombothi, a traditional beer. GioRetti. CC-BY-NC-SA 2.0

The logic behind the ban was simple: limit alcohol use and more hospital beds will remain open. Though most abstain from drinking altogether, the World Health Organization (WHO) classifies the majority of those who use alcohol as binge drinkers. As a result, drinking-related incidents account for 40% of all of South Africa’s emergency hospital admissions. In addition, crime fell by 29% over the course of the ban, including rates for domestic abuse and sexual assault. It is estimated that because the ban allowed more space for COVID-19 patients, 515 lives were saved.

A similar logic was used to implement a ban on cigarettes. Citing research from the WHO, the government has claimed that the ban is necessary to slow the spread of COVID-19. Cigarette smoke can carry the virus in air molecules for longer distances, and smoking itself weakens the lungs and makes the body more susceptible to severe symptoms. While the ban on cigarettes was lifted on Aug. 18, its implications continue through a vibrant black market.

Smokers found numerous ways to buy cigarettes under the table, leading many to question whether the ban actually curtailed the spread of COVID-19. Cigarette dealers interact with dozens of clients a day, creating the potential to hasten the spread of the virus. 

The growth of the black market has been an unforeseen consequence of the alcohol and cigarette ban, but it will have lasting repercussions on South Africa’s economy. Illegal operators have gained a significant foothold by doing business with thousands of drinkers and smokers who previously had no interaction with South Africa’s criminal underworld. Reversing the growth of these criminal enterprises is predicted to take years.

Moreover, the South African revenue service lost out on a total of 12 billion rand, equal to $726 million, in taxes it would have collected had alcohol never been banned. This loss of revenue is all the more frustrating when the government has struggled to provide hospitals with the necessary supplies to handle COVID-19. On a smaller scale, too, the economy has been devastated. Innumerable businesses face financial ruin since restaurants derive roughly 60% of their profits from alcohol sales. 

A street party on Long Street in Cape Town. Flowcomm. CC BY 2.0.

It is impossible to say whether the alcohol ban will ever be implemented again; this largely depends on whether South Africa experiences another surge of cases. When cases spiked a second time this summer, the ban was reimplemented from July 12 to Sept. 20. There is no guarantee that the ban will not be needed again. 

If it does become necessary yet again, many have learned how to fulfill their desire for a drink without liquor stores. Homebrewing has enjoyed a resurgence because of the nationwide prohibition. City dwellers have begun experimenting with beers typically made only in rural areas. Online video guides for brewing pineapple beer and a traditional corn and sorghum beer known as “umqombothi” have garnered thousands of views. Try as the government might, South Africa’s thirst for alcohol will most likely prove insatiable.

Michael McCarthy

is an undergraduate student at Haverford College, dodging the pandemic by taking a gap year. He writes in a variety of genres, and his time in high school debate renders political writing an inevitable fascination. Writing at Catalyst and the Bi-Co News, a student-run newspaper, provides an outlet for this passion. In the future, he intends to keep writing in mediums both informative and creative.

Chile Protests Escalate as Widespread Dissatisfaction Shakes Foundations of Country’s Economic Success Story

Chile’s capital city Santiago appears dynamic and bustling, complete with gleaming skyscrapers and a modern metro network. Against the backdrop of the snow-topped Andes mountains, the Costanera Tower – South America’s tallest building – symbolises the country’s open neoliberal economy and mass consumption society. 

But protests have rocked the country, challenging this image of stability and prosperity.

Following a government proposal to increase the price of metro tickets, students began to dodge metro fares in protest on October 14, jumping the turnstiles en masse and setting metro stations on fire. The protests soon spread within Santiago and to other Chilean cities, leading President Sebastian Piñera to declare a state of emergency and daily curfews on October 18. This legislation, which dates from the dictatorship era of the 1970s and 80s, allows the military to patrol the streets. 

But the move has led to an escalation of the protests, as thousands of Chileans disobeyed the curfews by marching peacefully against government policy and violent repression on a daily basis, calling for Piñera to resign.

The images of soldiers and tanks on the streets, dispersing protesters with water cannon, tear gas, and physical violence, recall the images of military repression during the dictatorship of Augusto Pinochet between 1973 and 1990. The economic and ideological legacies of the Pinochet era as well as the nature of Chile’s transition to democracy are key to understanding the reasons for the protests. The anger of those on the streets is as much a reflection of the country’s high inequality as it is of these unresolved legacies.

Much of the media coverage of the protests has focused on the spectacle of looting, vandalism, and soldiers beating the protesters. Since the protests started, 18 people have died and there have been 3,000 arrests. But there are wider causes behind these events. The protests emerged in the middle of growing dissatisfaction with high levels of inequality and a high cost of living. 

Income inequality has not improved in Chile since the days of the military dictatorship. World Inequality Database

On the surface, Chile looks like an economic and political success story, as the country’s GDP growth has outpaced that of Latin America as a whole in recent years, but many Chileans are struggling. The metro fares have come to symbolise what they feel is the unjust distribution of income and social spending. 

Legacy of Pinochet era

Like the state of emergency, Chile’s social and economic policies also date from the dictatorship. Neoliberal reforms were introduced in the mid-1970s by Pinochet and his team of American-trained economists, known as the “Chicago Boys”. The reforms took place in the context of violent repression. Official investigations showed that 3,065 people were murdered by state agents during the dictatorship, 40,000 tortured, and hundreds of thousands forced into exile.

The 1970s reforms included the elimination of subsidies, welfare reform, and the privatisation of state-owned companies, the health sector, education and pensions. Pinochet’s reforms led to high levels of unemployment, declining real wages, and expensive social services, such as education. The impact is clear today in education, characterised by low levels of public spending and highly unequal access to good-quality schools and universities. Between 2011 and 2013 students organised mass demonstrations against Chile’s education policies, and dissatisfaction remains.

Chile turned from a military to a civilian government in 1990, following the 1988 referendum in which Pinochet was defeated. But due to the nature of the transition, social and economic policies changed very little. Pinochet negotiated his departure in such a way that the armed forces kept control of the political process, including his own appointment as a lifelong senator. The 1980 military constitution – which is still in place today – has allowed Piñera to declare the controversial state of emergency to deal with the protests. Although some of the military control structures have been dismantled since Pinochet’s death in 2006, the civilian governments on the right and the left have had a limited appetite to address the country’s inequalities.

Anger on the streets of Santiago. Fernando Bizerra Jr/EPA

In response to the protests, on October 22 Piñera suspended the planned fare increases and announced a spending package of reforms to address the protestors’ concerns. The fact that Chileans continue to protest around the country shows that many people feel these measures are too little, too late. 

Given the long historical roots of the inequalities, it’s unlikely that one-off extra spending can address the country’s structural problems. Even if the government’s intention has been to de-escalate the situation, its hardline response to the protests signals growing polarisation rather than a quick resolution to the issues.

Marieke Riethof is a Senior Lecturer in Latin American Politics, University of Liverpool

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON THE CONVERSATION

Investing in War: How Violence Has Turned into a Profitable Business

Violence finds its home most often in some of the poorest places. But money filtrates its way through often gathering in arms businesses and corrupt governments. In recent times, this has been true in many countries throughout Africa and the Middle East. Is the price of death worth it?

Salva Kiir, President of South Sudan. Jenny Rockett. CC BY-SA 1.0.


There is a moral question that has surfaced over the years on whether you would have to choose between the death of someone you loved or thousands of strangers. Most of the time it would be frowned upon if you picked one life at the expense of thousands. But not everybody agrees. That moral standard doesn’t translate when power is involved. Too often the death of innocent people is picked for monetary gain. This isn’t just found with governments often associated with corruption but also can be found in US foreign policy and even in the UN. Just look at the Rwandan Genocide and Iraqi War for example. The US tends to only involve itself in conflict in which it has another interest in, often oil or another economic benefit. In Rwanda, the UN actually left the country when violence broke out and only got re-involved once it reached international attention. After the genocide ended, the country got so much foreign aid that its capital city, Kigali, is being recreated as a post-modern enterprise focused solely on appearance and not reality. This pattern has continued throughout many conflicts. It is, quite frankly, the business of war.

 This best current examples of this trend lie in South Sudan and Yemen. The rise of the Arab Spring lead to the intermingling of conflict, with wealthy monarchies fueling and funding neighboring battles. This is seen in both Syria and Libya. The most notable pairing though is the UAE in Yemen. Like most foreign involvement it is motivated by economic gain, namely control of the Red Sea coastline, and military prowess, as presence equals power. The UAE’s influence has led to the risk of starvation for 14 million people and a much more complex civil war. The leaders of militia groups are now benefiting greatly from foreign aid while the gap between rich and poor continues to spread.

 South Sudan follows a similar pattern. The civil war has led to leadership on both sides of line pocketing millions and pursuing private business in real estate acquisitions and capital investments. South Sudan’s economy is completely dependent on oil leading to endless conflict over oil reserves and wealth distribution. The war has left over 5 million in need of aid yet little is being done to stop it. When those in charge get nothing but wealth, why save the people?

 One of the biggest culprits of profiting from war lies in the companies controlling valuable natural resources. Often these companies are foreign owned and operated and give little thought to the violence surrounding it, focusing only on the influx of cash. These goals often coincide with a repressive regime. A study from the World Bank found that if one-fourth of the country's GDP is from primary commodity exports, the possibility of a civil war increases by 30%. Two examples of this are in Columbia and Tibet. Both areas have repressive governments with Tibet under illegal occupation of China. This has allowed for the expansion of foreign interest in mining in both countries, often with little regard to the surrounding area and the people that live there. In Columbia alone, 68% of displacements occurred in mining areas.

As long as money is involved and there are people, governments, and companies benefitting from war and violence, there is little motivation to change. If only we could learn that you don’t need to fight violence with violence, you fight by combatting the wealth of those with power.  

DEVIN O’DONNELL’s interest in travel was cemented by a multi-month trip to East Africa when she was 19. Since then, she has continued to have immersive experiences on multiple continents. Devin has written for a start-up news site and graduated from the University of Michigan with a degree in Neuroscience.

In Turkey, Academia Reckons with Ongoing Effects of Brain Drain

Following a post-coup crackdown by President Erdoğan, the Turkish intelligentsia is under continuous siege.

Faculty of Political Sciences, Ankara University. Fæ via Wikimedia Commons; originally by SALT Research via Flickr.

For some professors, the change occurred overnight, and with no warning: One day, they reported to work as usual, taught their classes, and returned home safe and secure. The next, they were met outside the gates of their university by swathes of security guards threatening them with tear gas, who informed them that their careers had been terminated, effective immediately. Such sudden and shocking occurrences reflected the overall timbre of 2017 for Turkish academics—hundreds of whom found themselves purged from their jobs in what they described as an officially sanctioned “intellectual massacre.”

The purge was precipitated by the failed coup of July 2016, which resulted in more than 260 fatalities and spurred President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan to declare a three-month state of emergency. During that state of emergency and in the ensuing months, hundreds of academics from more than 20 universities lost their jobs without notice—the result of drastic action by the ruling Justice and Development Party (AKP), which chose to detain, arrest, and fire thousands of public-sector workers in various different fields rather than pressing charges on those responsible for the coup attempt.

According to Erdoğan, the responsible party was Fethullah Gulen, an exiled cleric and former ally who the authorities claim infiltrated supporters into professions all over Turkey as part of a large-scale takeover scheme. Gulen denies having any part in the plan, and many purged academics said they had nothing to do with Gulen’s movement and were unsure how they ended up on the official hit list. Turkey’s Official Gazette describes the banned academics as having “suspected links to terrorist organizations and structures presenting a threat to national security,” but those accused hold a contrasting view: “It is a project to silence all dissident voices within the academy,” Murat Sevinc, who was fired from Ankara University’s Political Science faculty, told Reuters. “The government has seen you can silence 100 academics by firing only one.”

One commonality among many of the academics was their membership in a movement called Academics for Peace, or “Barış için Akademi syenler.” Of the 330 fired in October 2017, 115 had signed an Academics for Peace petition titled “We shall not be a party of crime,” which took a stand against violence in the mainly Kurdish provinces of Turkey. The signatories immediately faced demonization in the pro-government media and condemnation by Erdoğan.

President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. U.S. Department of State.

As of March 2017, the total count of purged academics was above 7,300. Those affected were not only deprived of their jobs but also banned from taking other jobs in any public or private institutions, robbed of retirement rights, and even suspended from traveling. Certain universities and departments were particularly hard-hit—for example, the Faculty of Political Sciences at Ankara University, Turkey’s oldest collegiate institution and one comparable in prestige and rigor to France’s Sciences Po. The departments of journalism at Ankara and at Istanbul’s University of Marmara were also decimated. Emre Tansu Keten, a casualty of the purge at Marmara, told Vocal Europe, “I am simply proud to be in the same list along with my senior colleagues who are thrown out because of the opinion they expressed.” Students, though not the primary victims of the situation, were nevertheless left reeling with the realization that their universities were mere shadows of the places at which they had enrolled.

The purges of 2017 were hardly the first shockwave to ripple through Turkey’s academic sector in recent years. In the past few decades, Turkish academic life has frequently been tumultuous, with intellectuals embroiled in military takeovers, secular/religious tensions, and leftist/nationalist battles. Following the start of European Union accession talks in 2004, however, fresh influxes of funding allowed Turkish institutions to construct modern research labs, encouraging students to study in Turkey rather than in the United States or elsewhere in Europe.

That progress, some academics suggest, is now in jeopardy. Following the coup attempt and subsequent crackdown, the trend of intellectuals returning in Turkey took a sharp U-turn, with liberals, secularists, and the intelligentsia fleeing the encroachment of religious nationalism. Between the signing of the Academics for Peace petition in 2016 and the end of 2017, nearly 700 Turkish academics applied to the New York–based organization Scholars at Risk to be relocated to a safer position. Historically, many such applications have been successful: In the five years preceding 2017, approximately 17,000 Turkish nationals came to Britain, 7,000 to Germany, and 5,000 to France.

For academics remaining in Turkey, opportunities for rebuilding their careers are slim, and rewards for their work few and far between. In 2018, the more than 2,000 individuals who make up Academics for Peace finally received recognition in the form of the Courage to Think Defender Award from Scholars at Risk, which applauded the group for their “extraordinary efforts in building academic solidarity and in promoting the principles of academic freedom, freedom of inquiry, and the peaceful exchange of ideas.” Scholars at Risk went on to acknowledge the tenuous state of academic affairs in Turkey, writing, “The nomination is a specific recognition of Academics for Peace’s solidarity work, and at the same time a general recognition of the current pressures on all scholars, students and higher education institutions in and from Turkey.”

Haydarpaşa campus of Marmara University. Fikricoban. CC BY-SA 3.0

On the ground, academics across the country continue to participate in protests, boycotts, and sit-ins at various universities, while a donation fund supports victims of the purge. As of early 2017, Ankara’s “Street Academy” hosted public lectures on Sundays, extending a special invitation to workers and oppressed communities. Funda Şenol Cantek, one of the throngs of fired academics, expressed her defiance to The Advocate: “the government should worry more now that they expand academia to the streets.” Similarly, Sevilay Celenk said of the occasional lectures she holds in public parks, “We took these dismissals as an opportunity to push the limits and bring university together with the streets.”

In June 2019, the body politic of Turkey elected an opposition candidate as mayor of Istanbul, interrupting two decades of control by the AKP. Nevertheless, reported the New York Times, “something about this era under Erdogan has still felt different, more lasting, as if the continuing existence of the A.K.P.’s repressive policies will permanently impair otherwise resilient, historic institutions.” That feeling doubtless stems in part from the uncertain futures facing vast swathes of Turkey’s once-resilient academic sector: As of spring 2019, the legal proceedings concerning 501 members of Academics for Peace remain ongoing. And at the universities, absence is keenly felt. Inside Ankara’s Faculty of Political Science—known as the Mulkiye—walls once plastered with leftist posters are now smattered with a sparse assortment of Turkish flags, the Times described. Certain subjects, such as Foucault and queer theory, have been wiped from the schedule. Master’s and doctoral courses have been canceled, and at the once-lively film society, the showing of films has been banned altogether. Thus, the effects of the purge linger on: in the hallowed halls of universities, in the leafy parks and city streets, and in the hearts and minds of Turkish learners and teachers around the world.

TALYA PHELPS hails from the wilds of upstate New York, but dreams of exploring the globe. As former editor-in-chief at the student newspaper of her alma mater, Vassar College, and the daughter of a journalist, she hopes to follow her passion for writing and editing for many years to come. Contact her if you're looking for a spirited debate on the merits of the em dash vs. the hyphen.

VENEZUELA : A Country in Darkness

And why the lights were flickering in the first place.

Venezuelan migrants wait at the Columbian boarder to join the millions who have already fled the country. UNICEF Ecuador. CC2.0

The streets are littered with planks of wood and broken glass from storefronts destroyed by looters. The smell of rotting food from useless refrigerators fills the air of the city’s neighborhoods. At the local hospital, groans can be heard from patients in pain without medicine and the dead appear to be multiplying.

This was Venezuela for six days in the lucky towns, and eight days in cities on the edge of the electric grid such as Maracaibo. The city of Maracaibo, about 200 miles west of Caracas, regularly experiences power outages as a result of its high energy consumption and position on the power grid.

The country’s economy has struggled throughout the past few years, and hyperinflation plagues Venezuelans’ day to day lives. Food is often scarce, and basic items such as toiletries can be costly. According to United Nations statistics, three million Venezuelans have left the country since 2014 when the economic crisis started to worsen. The blackout highlighted the systemic nature of Venezuela’s problems.

Venezuelans all over the country didn’t just lose power- they also lost the assurances that come under living in a country with rule of law. Storefronts were plundered as food became an even greater concern in a country already going hungry. “The shop owners were trying to defend their stores by opening fire, not to kill, but I think there were many dead,” Omar Chavez, a citizen of Maracaibo, told New York Times. “No one was controlling this mob.”

In Caracas, citizens resorted to drinking the heavily polluted water of the river that runs through the capital. Without electricity, hospitals had problems running equipment and suffered from shortages of medication. Citizens of the oil rich country lined up around blocks waiting for gasoline.

The blackout, while a nightmare for the citizens, has become a political battlefield for the two men who claim to be in charge of the country. Maduro, the unpopular incumbent, was first elected in 2013. In 2014, oil prices plummeted worldwide and Maduro failed to deal with the economic catastrophe that followed. Most of the county wants him out of office; according to a Gallup survey, 3 out of 4 Venezuelans view the government as corrupt. However, last May, Maduro was reelected. Many citizens claimed this election was an obvious fraud and took to the streets in protest.

Enter opposition leader Juan Guaido. In January 2019, Guaidó declared himself interim president on the grounds that the elections were rigged. Guaidó, as leader of the National Assembly, would become interim President if the role of President was vacant. The European Union and most of Latin America recognized Guaidó as the President of Venezuela. President Trump also threw his support behind Guaido, tweeting: “The citizens of Venezuela have suffered for too long at the hands of the illegitimate Maduro regime.” The US’ recognition of Juan Guaidó as the interim president led Maduro to call Guadió a Washington puppet intended to undermine Venezuelan sovereignty.

Maduro also claimed the blackout was the result of American cyber sabotage. He called the blackout an “electric war” started by “US imperialism.” But Venezuela has had problems with power since before Maduro came to the presidency. In 2010, Hugo Chavez called an “electricity emergency” after a drought caused water levels at the Guri Dam, a major hydroelectric plant, to fall dangerously low. Localized power cuts are normal, and electricity rationing comes as no surprise to the citizens. Experts say that this blackout was due to a key section of the country's national grid being taken out, possibly by a bush fire. The power system of Venezuela has also suffered from neglect as a result of years of underinvestment in infrastructure. The highest positions at Corpoelec, the state owned power company, are occupied by government loyalists. In reality, the power grid is run by soldiers instead of technicians.

Many skilled engineers have joined the three million Venezuelans who have fled to countries where lunch doesn’t cost a month’s salary. More are due to leave soon, as the power still flickers on and off. According to a Gallup survey, 36% of remaining Venezuelans said they would leave if they could. This number has more than doubled from the 13% who reported they would leave before Maduro took office.

Those who stay will have to deal with the aftermath of the devastating blackout. Pharmacies have few supplies, and grocery store shelves are sparse. In Maracaibo alone, vandals destroyed 562 businesses. Pharmacy owner Marianela Finol spoke to El País after the blackout. He compared the power outage to a natural disaster. “I feel like a tornado has passed,” he remarked. His pharmacy, robbed by a mob of strangers, remains in splinters.




EMILY DHUE is a third year student at the University of Virginia majoring in media. She is currently studying abroad in Valencia, Spain. She's passionate about writing that makes an impact, and storytelling through digital platforms.


Nigeria Replaces India as Home to Most in Extreme Poverty

Extreme poverty is increasingly common in Africa according to a Brookings Institution report.

A snapshot of what poverty means in Nigeria (Source: Daily Trust).

Imagine living on $1.90 or less a day, struggling even to access basic necessities. 767 million people in the world fit that description, according to a 2013 survey (the last comprehensive survey on global poverty): 1 in 10 people. The World Bank describes such people as “predominantly rural, young, [and] poorly educated.” For a long time India has been home to the most people living in extreme poverty. But Nigeria is now number one for most people in extreme poverty, according to Brookings Institution, a DC public policy nonprofit.

This change reflects a geographical shift in extreme poverty. Once extremely common in Asia, economic progress has helped to eliminate a significant proportion of extreme poor. The trend in Asia reflects worldwide trends since the 1990s that have seen rates of extreme poverty decrease by more than 60% according to the World Bank. Progress in India also reflects progress with the international Sustainable Development Goals, set in 2016, that seeks to eliminate extreme poverty by 2030. Since the goals were set in 2016, 83 million have escaped extreme poverty.

However, the progress in India has not been praised by everyone. Some wonder if the reported progress illustrates continued rural distress and worries about job creation in India. Another potential criticism is about what poverty means. For India, a middle-income country based on its per capita income, its poverty line is $3.20 or less per day according to the World Bank. This means poverty is less defined by living on the edge of hunger and more on having an income that can access opportunities of a growing economy, according to a financial editorial in Mint.

Meanwhile, extreme poverty has become the unwelcome status quo in Africa. This is most notable in statistics, calculated through the IMF’s World Economic Outlook and household surveys, provided by the World Poverty Clock. It states as six people enter extreme poverty per minute in Nigeria, 44 leave it in India. More generally, 87 million Nigerians (44% of the population) live in extreme poverty while 70.6 million (around 5% of the population) live in extreme poverty in India.

Further, Nigeria is only a part of the extreme poverty in Africa. Two-thirds of Africans live in a state of extreme poverty and 14 of the 18 countries that have rising numbers of extreme poor are located in Africa. Indeed, on track to be number two for extreme poor is the Democratic Republic of Congo.

The theme of poverty in Africa also depicts difficulties in achieving the Sustainable Development Goals. When it was implemented in 2016, the pace required to eliminate poverty by 2030 was 1.5 people every second. However as countries have slowed down in eliminating poverty, the actual pace is remarkably less—by 2020 it could be 0.9 people per second. The difference in pace will make it difficult to eliminate poverty by 2030 if not impossible, especially as the required pace to get back on track for the goal is 1.6 people per second.

In spite of the difficulties, eliminating global poverty is a priority for many charitable organizations. One is The Borgen Project, a Seattle nonprofit who hopes to be “an influential ally” for the world’s poor by building “awareness of global issues and innovations in poverty reduction.”  The Borgen Project builds awareness by advocating for poverty-reducing legislation by meeting directly with members of Congress or staff. They also hold members of Congress accountable for blocking poverty-reducing legislation.

The Borgen Project’s success is especially evident in the passing of the 2017 Reinforcing Education Accountability in Development (READ) Act. The Act holds the US accountable for ensuring access to basic education in war-torn and developing countries. Basic education encourages economic growth by equipping people with skills needed to participate in the global marketplace— an important step to reducing poverty.

Another successful organization is international organization Oxfam, which hopes to create “lasting solutions to poverty, hunger, and social justice.” Oxfam strives to create such systemic change through social justice advocacy of legislation that reduces poverty; disaster response improvements; and public education about the causes of poverty. Oxfam also focuses on programs that educate individuals about their rights or address inequalities in resource accessibility— such as clean water initiatives.

These programs cultivate local partnerships and networks with a focus on “locally informed and locally driven solutions.” For example, after over ten years of working with local communities and government authorities to minimize the impact of disasters on poor people, El Salvador was able to swiftly respond to the October 2011 flood. More importantly, when a village (La Pelota) received unclean drinking water, they asserted their right to clean water by sending it back to the authorities.

Both organizations show work that has been directly done to eliminate poverty. Like other organizations that focus on global poverty, they strive to enforce systemic change by targeting root issues. These include a lack of education— of individuals about their rights as well as the general public, a lack of adequate resources, and a lack of legislation that addresses the poor. Whether it is by 2030 or later, it is possible to imagine a future where extreme poverty does not exist. Many individuals already do.

 

 

TERESA NOWALK is a student at the University of Virginia studying anthropology and history. In her free time she loves traveling, volunteering in the Charlottesville community, and listening to other people’s stories. She does not know where her studies will take her, but is certain writing will be a part of whatever the future has in store.