Hong Kong’s Domestic Workers Demand to Be Treated Like Employees, Not Slaves

June 17, 2021

As COVID-19 exacerbates the discrimination and abuse that domestic workers in Hong Kong face on a daily basis, activists vigorously fight for their rights

Domestic workers take to the streets. International Domestic Workers Federation. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

Erwiana Sulistyaningsih knocked on her neighbor’s door at 2 a.m. She needed food. She was a domestic worker, or “helper,” in Hong Kong for Law Wan-tung, who rarely fed her. By Hong Kong law, helpers are required to live with their employers, so such abuse is not unheard of. Nor was forced starvation the full extent of this abuse. Law once shoved a metal vacuum cleaner tube into Sulistyaningsih’s mouth, causing her lip to bleed. Law even forced her to stand naked in the shower in the middle of the winter while she splashed water on her. That night at 2 a.m., her neighbors saw the result of months worth of abuse.

Long a marginalized group, helpers fuel the economic engine of Hong Kong, completing domestic work so their employers can dedicate time to their careers, often in the lucrative financial sector. They shop, do laundry, help children with homework, cook meals, clean living spaces and do anything else their employers wish. While helpers are employed by both the middle and upper class and have a widespread presence in Hong Kong, they rarely have a voice in public policy debates. Because most helpers are migrants and ethnic minorities, they often endure discrimination and abuse because of their race and social class.

A woman protesting helper abuse. International Domestic Workers Federation. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

Helpers suffer in an economic system that leaves almost no space to be human. Minimum wage for helpers is $596 a month. Having employers provide food and housing is intended to compensate for this low pay, but the real consequence of living with their employers is that helpers are effectively on-call all day, every day. Although helpers are required to be given one full day off each week, many are made to work anyway to satisfy their employers. Hong Kong law requires employers to provide helpers with “suitable accommodation” and “reasonable privacy,” but many helpers are forced to sleep on cots behind thin, cloth partitions. Some sleep on the floor.

A demonstration for helpers’ rights. International Domestic Workers Federation. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

COVID-19 further exacerbated the discimination which they face daily. In late April, the government ordered all 370,000 domestic workers in Hong Kong to take COVID-19 tests or get a vaccine, deeming them “high risk” due to their “mingling” with other migrant workers. However, they rescinded the vaccination requirement after public outcry in May, yet the testing requirement remained. This order prompted accusations of discrimination because it did not apply to migrant workers in white-collar positions or those who employ helpers. In fact, infection rates among helpers are lower than the Hong Kong average. Still, police and passers-by regularly harass people they suspect are helpers for not following COVID-19 guidelines, even if they are.

In particular, the live-in law has caused concern among activists campaigning for the rights of domestic workers in Hong Kong. In 2020, 17% of helpers reported being physically abused, a 2% increase from 2019. Cases of rape and sexual abuse increased to 6%. An astonishing 98% of helpers say they have worked longer hours during the pandemic. This is only the continuation of a trend. A 2016 study found that one in six helpers experienced forced labor at some point in their careers.

Demonstrators hold a flag from the Federation of Asian Domestic Workers Unions. International Domestic Workers Federation. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

Erwiana Sulistyaningsih was only one of thousands to experience abuse as a helper. When she became so injured that she could no longer work, Law attempted to sneak her onto a plane to Indonesia, hiding her bruises with makeup and threatening to hurt her family if they were caught—they were. Law enforcement intercepted Law before she could do any more harm, and a Hong Kong court sentenced her to six years in prison. It was a major victory, not just for Sulistyaningsih but for all 370,000 helpers working in Hong Kong.

One positive trend for helpers’ rights has been a more focused public spotlight on their situation, led by a dedicated group of activists documenting and addressing helpers’ concerns. Sulistyaningsih made Time Magazine’s 100 Most Powerful People in 2014 for telling the story of her abuse. Her case serves as a reminder of the abuse that continues to befall helpers, and of how far away justice remains. Law Wan-tung got out of prison early in 2018, but for Sulistyaningsih and countless other domestic workers, physical and mental scars still persist.

LGBTQ+ Intolerance in Ghana Reaches Boiling Point

May 6, 2021

Tensions within the West African country have risen following the recent restriction of LGBTQ+ rights, resurfacing the decades long discussion regarding the criminalization of same-sex conduct.

Pride flag waving in the sky. Tim Bieler. Unsplash.

The newly established office of nonprofit organization LGBT+ Rights Ghana was raided and searched by police last month, endangering one of the only safe spaces for LGBTQ+ people in the country. This raid came mere days after Ghanaian journalist Ignatius Annor came out as gay on live television, and many have speculated that the raid was in retaliation of that moment.

Given Ghana’s criminalization of same-sex conduct, it is not a stretch to say that homophobia runs rampant and unchecked, especially when considering the widespread opposition from both government officials and religious figures regarding the construction of the center for LGBT+ Rights Ghana.

The building has been under scrutiny since it first opened back in January. Only three weeks after opening its doors to the public, the organization had to temporarily close in order to protect its staff and visitors from angry protesters. The director of the organization, Alex Kofi Donkor, explained how the community “expected some homophobic organizations would use the opportunity to exploit the situation and stoke tensions against the community, but the anti-gay hateful reaction has been unprecedented.”

This unprovoked suppression of basic freedoms indicates that LGBTQ+ intolerance in Ghana has reached a boiling point and is about to bubble over.

Aerial shot of Accra, Ghana. Virgyl Sowah. Unsplash.

News of the situation reached a handful of high-profile celebrities such as Idris Elba and Naomi Campbell, who joined 64 other public figures in publishing an open letter of solidarity with the Ghanaian LGBTQ+ community using #GhanaSupportsEquality. While prejudice has only recently garnered public attention due to the letter, blatant and widespread homophobia in Ghana has run rampant for years.

According to a study conducted by the Human Rights Watch in 2017, hate crimes and assault due to one's sexual identity are regular occurrences in Ghana. Dozens of people have been attacked by mobs and even family members out of mere speculation that they were gay. Furthermore, the study found that for women, much of this aggressive homophobia was happening behind closed doors through the pressures of coerced marriage.

Consider 24-year-old Khadija, who identifies as lesbian and will soon begin pursuing relationships with men due to the societal pressure for women to marry. Or 21-year-old Aisha, who was exiled by her family and sent to a “deliverance” church camp after she was outed as lesbian.

Marriage pressures and intolerances are certainly prevalent in other countries as well, even in those often deemed progressive. The big difference is that in many countries, homophobic beliefs are slowly becoming less and less common. In Ghana, it seems as though these sentiments are normalized and held by the majority of people.

The precedent for discrimination based on sexual orientation was set as early as 2011, when former Western Region minister Paul Evans Aidoo called for the immediate arrest of LGBTQ+ people in the area. The stigma that actions like this produced in Ghana have only been amplified over time when coupled with religious and cultural tensions.

A rainbow forms above a home in Kumasi, Ghana. Ritchie. Unsplash.

Many victims of hate crimes or abuse in Ghana reported that because of the codified homophobia in the country, they are unable to report their experiences to local authorities without putting themselves in danger. As a result, LGBTQ+ Ghanaians find themselves stuck in a perpetual cycle of making slight progress just for higher authorities to snatch it away.

There have been countless opportunities for legalized discrimination to be addressed, and ever since current Ghanaian President Nana Akufo-Addo assumed office in 2017, he has been under immense pressure to announce his official position on homosexuality. Four years later, he has still not done so.

Instead of embracing the shift toward more inclusive policies supported by LGBT+ Rights Ghana, the Ghanaian government appears to be succumbing to public pressures in an attempt to keep peace. What it fails to realize is that sweeping inequalities under the carpet doesn’t make them go away. It actually does quite the opposite. It heightens inequalities until they become absolutely impossible to avoid. Celebrity involvement in dismantling Ghana’s current system has caused quite the public reaction. It may end up being the spark that causes the Ghanaian government to reconsider its policies and begin to offer LGBTQ+ people the respect and protection they deserve.

Zara is a third year Communication student at the University of California, San Diego. Her passion for journalism comes from her love of storytelling and desire to learn about others. In addition to writing at CATALYST, she is an Opinion Writer for the UCSD Guardian, which allows her to incorporate various perspectives into her work.

The Glaring Sexism of the Sudanese Revolution

January 5, 2021

Although the Sudanese revolution was a success, the women of Sudan continue to fight against the sexism that is so latent in their country.

The forefront of the Sudanese revolution. Hind Mekki. CC BY 2.0.

Located in the northeast corner of Africa, Sudan gained its independence in 1956 from British and Egyptian rule. The young country has struggled internally ever since, with a multitude of political and religious divisions between the south and the north which broke out into multiple civil wars. South Sudan formed as the newest nation in the world in 2011, as a result of a majority vote for independence in a referendum created by the 2005 Comprehensive Peace Agreement. Present-day Sudan is majority Muslim, while South Sudan is mostly Christian.

Amid the turmoil which defined Sudan’s geopolitics rose Omar al-Bashir, the last president who was known for his cruel dictatorship, human rights violations and war crimes. Bashir came to power in 1989, overthrowing Prime Minister Sadiq al-Mahdi through a nonviolent coup. His autocratic reign at first introduced Sharia, or Islamic law, thus creating more tensions between the Islamic north and the Christian south. Under Sharia, floggings for adultery and drinking alcohol were commonplace. Through the strict interpretation of Islamic law, women and girls were made victims of political persecution, violence, and genital mutilation. Bashir’s laws were indifferent toward cases of domestic violence against women, child marriage and marital rape. Sudan’s Article 152 of the penal code validated the flogging and imprisonment of women for what they wore.

Sudanese protesters gathered in December 2018 to confront President Omar al-Bashir’s strict measures for economic relief. Bashir made cuts to bread and fuel subsidies, which exacerbated the dissent which was already festering among citizens. Although the movement was initially made up primarily of men, women soon became the driving force behind the revolution. Women made up about 70% of the protesters and were targeted for gender-based and political violence, including battery and rape, by Sudan’s security forces.

The success of the coup took the media by storm, but there remained sexist overtones within the movement itself. The Sudanese Professionals Association, which has been organizing resistance against Bashir’s dictatorship throughout all three decades, suggested that female protesters come gather on the streets to clean on a day which was scheduled for a protest. This devalued the women who were fighting alongside men against Bashir’s regime, making them feel dismissed as mere cleaners instead of as members of the uprising itself. This led to a more pressing concern for women’s rights in Sudan, which have been shot down for decades.

Taken by me@lana_hago #8aprile pic.twitter.com/o7pDUsQg84
— Lana H. Haroun (@lana_hago) April 8, 2019

A photo of a Sudanese woman, clad in white and towering over the crowds on top of a car, became the icon of the movement itself. Her defiance and resilience moved millions of onlookers around the world, and she became dubbed as “Kandaka,” which refers to the Nubian queens of the Kush kingdom who reigned in Sudan centuries ago. This apparition of gender equality left female protesters disgruntled, as it was sorely evident that women were still oppressed by the patriarchal society in Sudan.

After the coup, Alaa Salah, the celebrated icon herself, told Time magazine that the Sudanese government still limits the role of women in the legislature. Salah is pushing for 50% female representation in Sudan’s parliament, and works alongside women’s rights activists to change the restrictions placed on women. The public law, which tormented women in Sudan for their behavior and their ways of dressing, was finally repealed in November 2019. Although Sudan’s systemic violence against women is entrenched in its society, women’s rights activists remain optimistic about the progress already seen since the ousting of Omar al-Bashir.

Ethiopian Migrant Workers Left More Vulnerable After Devastating Explosion in Beirut

August 13, 2020

On Aug. 4, two massive explosions in Beirut, the capital of Lebanon, sent a shock wave that destroyed many neighborhoods, killed more than 200 people, injured 6,000 and left approximately 250,000 homeless. The tragedy struck a country that is already suffering from a major economic crisis, an increase in COVID-19 cases, and the corruption and negligence of the Lebanese government—corruption which led to the deadly explosion. Reports emerged that the government knew about the over 3,000 tons of ammonium nitrate, which is used to build bombs, and left it unattended and unsecured for six years.

As the Lebanese people’s anger boiled over, protests calling for an end to the political elite erupted, leading to the resignation of the majority of the Lebanese government. According to The Wall Street Journal, on Aug. 10 Prime Minister Hassan Diab addressed the nation in a televised address: “I set out to combat corruption, but I discovered that corruption is bigger than the state. I declare today the resignation of this government. God bless Lebanon.”

But according to Foreign Policy, “the public is unlikely to be appeased by the resignation of Diab’s government” as “the rest of the country’s political elites, the sectarian warlords of the civil war era and their descendants, clinging to positions of privilege, are still busy looking for scapegoats.” As the public continues to fight for the fall of the regime, it is hoped that not only will the Lebanese benefit, but so too will the migrant workers whose plight worsens as crises continue to befall the country.

According to The New Arab, “around 250,000 migrants work as housekeepers, nannies and carers in Lebanese homes.” Most of the workers are women, many of whom immigrated from Ethiopia and the Philippines, according to The Associated Press. The migrant workers do not have labor law protections as they were brought in through the kafala system, an exploitative and abusive sponsorship system used in Bahrain, Kuwait, Lebanon, Qatar, Oman, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates. The migrant workers are vulnerable to exploitation as the countries that practice the kafala system offer little to no protection for migrant workers—their right to work and legal presence is entirely dependent on their employer. The migration sponsorship system “increases their risk of suffering labor exploitation, forced labor and trafficking, and leaves them with little prospect of obtaining redress,” according to Amnesty International.

The ongoing economic crisis in Lebanon, along with the spike in COVID-19 cases, has made an already dire situation worse for migrant workers. According to Amnesty International, “many have reported that the value of their salaries has decreased by around a third because of the currency crash.” Their salaries were already as little as $150 per month before the severe economic crisis and pandemic, according to France 24. In June, BBC reported that more than 100 Ethiopian migrant domestic workers were fired and left homeless outside their country’s consulate in Beirut after their employers claimed they could no longer afford to pay their maids.

Now, the explosions have left the domestic workers even more vulnerable. CNN reported, “In the aftermath, rights groups are warning that this vulnerable group is facing dire situations as many of them are stranded in the country and unable to go home.” Activists like Farah Salka of Lebanon’s Anti-Racism Movement are fighting for the migrant workers’ rights. Salka told CNN, “They are running from one escalating situation to the other and it is an endless stream of trauma. They have faced COVID, economic crisis, airport closure, quarantine restrictions in often hostile conditions and they want to go home.”

Finding a way home is proving difficult for the Ethiopian migrants. According to Middle East Eye, “Ethiopia has tripled the price of repatriation for its citizens in Lebanon to $1,450, including flights and mandatory quarantine, further prohibiting the return of dozens of women stranded and destitute outside its Beirut consulate.” This is approximately a $900 increase from a May 21 article from Quartz Africa which reported, “Ethiopia’s consulate had collected $550 registration fees for the repatriation flights.”

People on social media are calling for better treatment of migrant workers in Lebanon after footage showed an Ethiopian migrant worker saving a young child from shattered glass as the second explosion erupted in the capital. Lebanese journalist Luna Safwan tweeted, “Migrant worker grabs toddler and saves her from shattered glass and windows as the second big explosion erupted in Beirut earlier today. She did not even think. Migrant workers deserve better in #Lebanon – this woman is a hero.”

Asiya Haouchine

is an Algerian-American writer who graduated from the University of Connecticut in May 2016, earning a BA in journalism and English. She was an editorial intern and contributing writer for Warscapes magazine and the online/blog editor for Long River Review. She is currently studying for her Master’s in Library and Information Science. @AsiyaHaou

A Hong Kong high school student wearing a gas mask. Joseph Chan. Unsplash.

What is the Direction of the Hong Kong Protests?

June 7, 2020

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A female-dominated protest moving to "Un Violador en Tu Camino" (“A Rapist in Your Path”). Wotancito. CC BY-SA 4.0

The Chilean Roots of a Global Anti-Gender-Based Violence Movement

May 30, 2020

On the 2019 International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women, over 10,000 women gathered outside Chile’s Santiago National Stadium, a former detention and torture center from Chile’s military dictatorship. “Patriarchy is our judge/That imprisons us at birth/And our punishment/Is the violence you DON’T see” the group chanted, their clothes and bodies marked with anti-violence slogans. “It's femicide!” they shouted into the frigid air. “It's not my fault, not where I was, not how I dressed!” They placed their hands behind their heads, then squatted up and down, mimicking the movements that Chilean police officials and prison wardens force females to perform while naked.

This is the movement that has globally spread, dismantling the structural forms of gender violence set in place by police and judiciary systems. The protests feature the Chilean song “Un Violador en Tu Camino,” or “A Rapist in Your Path.” Created by the Valparaíso feminist collective Las Tesis, it challenges the gender violence so prominently institutionalized by political structures. Las Tesis works closely with various activists and scholars to demystify rape as an act of pleasure. Specifically, “Un Violador en Tu Camino” is based on the work of Argentine-Brazilian anthropologist Rita Segato, one of Latin America’s most celebrated anthropologists of gender violence. Las Tesis also investigates the sexual violence, homicide and rapes within Chile that are left unaddressed in the criminal justice system.

The song was first publicly performed in front of a Valparaíso police station. As the initial protest, women merely sought to impose small-scale street interventions. However, as the visceral lyrics moved through global media, they inspired similar demonstrations throughout Latin America and beyond.

Thousands of women performed the piece at the Zócalo, Mexico City’s main square, on November 29, 2019, roughly a week after the Valparaíso protest. Since then, Las Tesis’ song has spurred movements in Latin American countries such as Colombia, Venezuela, Peru and Argentina, and has even spread to global protests in London, Berlin, Paris, Madrid, Barcelona, Tel Aviv, New Delhi, Tokyo, Beirut, Istanbul and New York City.

Each protest site transforms the musical base, adapting the movements and song to their national identity. Within Latin America, green scarves represent the campaign for legal abortion. Black blindfolds acknowledge the ways that women are made vulnerable by Chilean police. Brazilian activists add the lyrics, “Marielle is present. Her killer is a friend of our president.” They reference Marielle Franco, an assassinated city council member from Rio de Janeiro. An ongoing investigation will determine if Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro was involved in her killing.

“It’s the cops. It’s the judges. It’s the system. It’s the president. The rapist is you.” This phrase has been chanted around the world, demanding rectification for years of human rights violations. As female protesters gather in urban areas and repeat these words, they point— physically and metaphorically—to the courthouses, police headquarters, and presidential palaces that have systematically dehumanized women, promoting gender violence and oppression. Media, movement and song give women the platform to insert their collective power and instill political change.

Anna Wood

is an Anthropology major and Global Health/Spanish double minor at Middlebury College. As an anthropology major with a focus in public health, she studies the intersection of health and sociocultural elements. She is also passionate about food systems and endurance sports.

Protestors carry the national flag as they march in Algiers. Asiya Haouchine.

Algerians Mark One Year of Political Demonstrations with New Protests

March 2, 2020

2019 marked a year of many political protests that spanned the globe. The wave of protests—the Global Protest Wave of 2019—took place in Africa, the Middle East, Hong Kong, France, Catalonia, and Latin America. In its 53rd week, the Algerian protest movement, known as “The Revolution of Smiles” or Hirak (the Arabic word for movement), began twelve days after Abdelaziz Bouteflika announced he was running for a fifth presidential term. Algerians, outraged by his decision, demonstrated across Algeria on Friday, February 22. Thousands of protestors took to the streets of the capital, Algiers, where it has been illegal to protest since June 2001 when thousands of Kabylie demonstrators demanded justice from the government’s abuse of power.

Hirak protestors called for a total overhaul of the Algerian government, starting with Bouteflika stepping down from his long-held position as president. Chants calling for a civilian state, not a military state (دولة مدنية ماشي عسكرية) became a regular part of the protest rhetoric, along with a reminder to the news organizations and Algerian government that the Algerian’s revolution is a peaceful one: “silmiya, silmiya”.

After Bouteflika announced he would not run for a fifth term on March 11, the slogan “Yetnahaw ga’a!” (get rid of them all) became a rallying cry. Protestors believed, and continue to believe, Algeria cannot be considered free until those who have contributed, participated, and strengthened Bouteflika’s 20-year reign resign from their positions in government and face persecution for injustices and crimes they have committed.

An Algerian man holds up a political sign during a march in Algiers. Asiya Haouchine.

Driving through the streets of Algeria, one can hear powerful political songs playing from phones and radios—people often singing along. Among those songs that have become the sound of protest are “Libérer l'Algérie” written by various artists supporting the movement, “La liberté” by Soolking, and “Allô le système!” and “Toxic” by Raja Meziane. Meziane has been exiled due to her politically charged songs, but continues to create music that has become part of the movement.

In a country where more than two-thirds of the population is under 30, it is the youth who are most negatively impacted by the current system. Staggering unemployment, drugs, delinquency, and harragas—North Africans who flee their country (Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia) illegally on makeshift boats, burning their identification papers in the hope of finding a better life in Europe—are some of the challenges the Algerian youth face. It is no surprise, then, that the protests have been led by young Algerians. The Hirak inspired many Algerians—young and old—to stop being complacent and to do something to inspire hope and create change for the country they love. From babies in strollers to elders walking with canes, Algeria has not seen her citizens rise up to this degree since the Algerian war for independence. They are united and determined to be peaceful—a goal that is doubly important for most Algerians who lived through the bloody 10-year civil war of the 90s and early 2000s.

The movement succeeded in imprisoning many key figures of Bouteflika’s regime, but Algeria still has a ways to go before its government enacts the changes its citizens demand. A year later, Algerian citizens continue to protest. The crowd buzzes with energy and excitement—their passion for justice and love for their country has not dulled with time.

Kashmiri Muslims shout slogans during a protest after Eid prayers in Srinagar. AP Photo/ Dar Yasin

What’s Behind the Protests in Kashmir?

August 22, 2019

India recently enacted a law which will end a special autonomous status given to the state of Jammu and Kashmir, known in the West as simply “Kashmir.”

Amit Shah, India’s minister for home affairs, announced in Parliamentthat the Bharatiya Janata Party government was revoking Article 370 of the Indian Constitution in the name of bringing prosperity to the region.

Since 1954, this article has governed federal relations between India and Kashmir, India’s only Muslim majority state.

I’m a scholar of South Asian politics and have written extensively on the evolution of the India-Pakistan conflict in Kashmir.

Article 370 is woven into that history.

History of Kashmir’s autonomy

Article 370 originated in the particular circumstances under which the former prince and last ruler of Kashmir acceded to India shortly after the partition of the British Indian Empire into the independent states of India and Pakistan in 1947.

The prince, or maharaja, agreed to have Kashmir become part of India under duress. His rule was threatened by an insurrection supported by Pakistan.

Article 370 was designed to guarantee the autonomy of the Muslim majority state, the only one in predominantly Hindu India. The clause effectively limited the powers of the Indian government to the realms of defense, foreign affairs and communications. It also permitted the Kashmiri state to have its own flag and constitution.

More controversially, Article 370 prohibited non-Kashmiris from purchasing property in the state and stated that women who married non-Kashmiris would lose their inheritance rights.

Changes over time

But the independence of the Kashmiri state has been declining for decades. Beginning in the early 1950s, a series of presidential ordinances, which had swift effect much like American executive orders, diluted the terms of the article.

For example, in 1954, a presidential order extended Indian citizenship to the “permanent residents” of the state. Prior to this decision the native inhabitants of the state had been considered to be “state subjects.”

Other constitutional changes followed. The jurisdiction of the Indian Supreme Court was expanded to the state in 1954. In addition, the Indian government was granted the authority to declare a national emergency if Kashmir were attacked.

Many other administrative actions reduced the state’s autonomy over time. These have ranged from enabling Kashmiris to participate in national administrative positions to expanding the jurisdiction of anti-corruption bodies, such as the Central Vigilance Commission and the Central Goods and Services Act of 2017, into the state.

What it means for India and the world

What has happened as a result of the move to revoke Article 370?

Kashmiris living in New Delhi gather for a function to observe Eid al-Adha away from their homes in New Delhi. AP Photo/Manish Swarup

The decision has been met with considerable unhappiness and resentment in the Kashmir Valley, which has a Muslim population close to 97% – versus 68% of the population of the state as a whole. The government of Jammu and Kashmir, meanwhile, does not have the legal power to challenge the move.

China and Pakistan have expressed displeasure.

Pakistan has long maintained that it should have inherited the state based upon its geographic contiguity and its demography.

India and Pakistan have fought three wars over Kashmir. While I don’t believe Pakistan will initiate another war with India over this issue at this time, I doubt it will quietly resign itself to the changed circumstances. At the very least, it will seek to draw in members of the international community to oppose India’s action, as it has sought to do in the past.

China, which considers Pakistan to be its “all-weather ally,” has stated that the decision was “not acceptable and won’t be binding.”

SUMIT GANGULY is a Distinguished Professor of Political and the Tagore Chair in Indian Cultures and Civilizations at Indiana University.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON THE CONVERSATION.

In Hong Kong Protests, Technology Serves as a Tool of Both Expression and Repression

July 23, 2019

While activists have used the internet as a powerful organizing tool, web coverage on the Chinese mainland is defined by mass blackouts and systematic silencing.

Protesters in Hong Kong. Studio Incendo. CC BY 2.0

The most widely attended protest in recent American memory, the Women’s March, brought about 1 percent of the population onto the streets. Last month’s protests in Hong Kong brought 25 percent.

By any standards, the anti-extradition campaign in Hong Kong, spurred by a proposed China-backed amendment that would allow for the extradition of Hong Kongers to mainland China, was an astronomical success, engaging huge swathes of the population and eventually leading to the death of the proposal. Images of the demonstration depict unfathomable numbers of citizens exercising their right to peaceful protests, but something remains invisible in those photos: the constantly active, multilayered and multifaceted presence of the internet, which—through messaging apps, social media, and LIHKG (Hong Kong’s answer to Reddit)—allowed protestors to turn ideology into concrete action.

On June 12, the protest reached a milestone when tens of thousands of citizens surrounded the Hong Kong legislative building, spurring an initial suspension of the bill. In order to mobilize without attracting unwanted attention, activists created online events inviting people to a “picnic” in nearby Tamar Park, a cover-up for their actual intentions. Messaging services, too, helped with planning efforts. Particularly popular was the encrypted app Telegram—although the arrest of Ivan Ip for “conspiracy to commit a public nuisance” set efforts back, given that Ip was leading a group on the platform of 30,000 users. Still, Ip’s group was far from the only one: In a Baptist University poll of protestors, more than half of respondents reported using Telegram for broadcasting information and participating in discussion groups.

Protestors in the streets. Etan Liam. CC BY-ND 2.0

The survey also revealed the protestors’ widespread use of LIHKG, which lived up to its reputation of supporting free speech by subtly assisting activist efforts: Administrators removed ads from their site for about two weeks in June to shorten loading time and upped the number of replies allowed on some threads from 1,001 to 5,001, citing a need “for more convenient discussions.”

For protestors, the utility of social media and messaging platforms was far from over once planning progressed into action. During the demonstration on June 12, attendees broadcast real-time updates through countless Instagram stories and an hour-long livestream on the Twitter-owned service Periscope. In addition to spreading the word to Hong Kongers not attending the demonstration, protestors were able to communicate amongst themselves, using apps to request supplies, share the locations of food and water stations, and disseminate hand signals that would allow for discreet communication. Technical difficulties, however, thwarted efforts to some degree: Poor mobile signals made accessing the internet a challenge and threatened to spur chaos. “Without Telegram and WhatsApp, people did not know what they had to do,” Laura, 18, a student who volunteered as a first-aid staffer, told the South China Morning Post.

Holding a sign that reads “kids are not rioters.” Etan Liam. CC BY-ND 2.0

Limited connectivity was not the only tech-related hurdle facing protesters. Tech-savvy activists cautioned against using public Wi-Fi or swiping their Octopus public transit card, actions that could put users at risk of having their personal information picked up and employed to incriminate them. And protestors made sure to turn off Face ID and fingerprint ID on their phones so that police could not unlock their devices without consent, as well as enabling encryption on apps where it was not already automatic.

Across the border in China, however, such internet-driven activism would have been impossible. Hong Kongers have the privilege of a much more open internet—a dichotomy that has manifested starkly in mainland media coverage of the protests. As part of the mass censorship and limited access that has long defined the Chinese internet and that is sometimes dubbed the “Great Firewall of China,” the Communist Party has enacted a total blackout on protest coverage in newspapers and on TV, with television screens simply going dark when foreign news outlets show images of the demonstrations. Video footage of Hong Kong Chief Executive Carrie Lam apologizing for her attempt to push through the extradition law never lasted long on social media, as censors would immediately delete the content each time it was reuploaded. And even a song that activists sang during the protests, “Can You Hear the People Sing” from “Les Miserables,” was inexplicably missing from QQ, a popular musical streaming site.

Protestors filled the streets on June 16. Etan Liam. CC BY-ND 2.0

On social media platforms like WeChat and Weibo, users devised strategies to get around the firewall, like distorting images of the protests or blocking parts of the image with giant smiley-face logos. In some cases, however, China’s tech power was simply too strong: Telegram reported on June 12 that it was experiencing a distributed denial of service (DDoS) attack, which means that a number of computers were attempting to overload its servers with bogus requests, resulting in service slowdowns or outages. Telegram’s CEO, Pavel Durov, said that the IP addresses behind the attack were coming mainly from China, potentially suggesting a concerted effort by authorities.

By systematically silencing the voices of activists, China is able to spread its own narrative of the protests, which it portrays as violent events provoked by foreign elements amining to undermine Hong Kong and the “one country, two systems” policy. The policy was formulated in the 1980s for the reunification of China by Paramount Leader of the People’s Republic of China Deng Xiaoping; in the interest of furthering Hong Kong’s status as a global financial center, it guarantees freedom of speech and protest for citizens. Yet Hong Kongers have long feared an erosion of their autonomy, a concern that most recently boiled over in the form of the 2014 Umbrella Movement, during which streets in the city’s business district were flooded by demonstrators for nearly three months. Throughout that time, mainland China busily erased all mention and images of the protests from its internet.

Protesters were unsatisfied by the original postponement of the bill. Etan Liam. CC BY-ND 2.0

On July 8, Lam publicly stated that the bill was finally dead, describing the proposed amendment as a “total failure.” Yet Hong Kongers were not entirely satisfied, as questions remain about whether Lam will officially withdraw the bill or whether it might be revived in future. Either way, the anti-extradition movement of 2019 will stand as a landmark protest for the digital age: one whose scale and power could have only coalesced in an era of instant connectivity, and one that throws into stark relief the power of technology—for expression and repression alike.

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.

Three Years Since the Standing Rock Protests

July 23, 2019

What Has Changed?

In 2016, Native American tribes and allies from all over the country came to North Dakota to protest the construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline, and to support the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe.

The Standing Rock Sioux Reservation is in the center of North and South Dakota. Standing Rock was originally established as a part of the Great Sioux Reservation, which was established in 1868. In 2014, Energy Transfer Partners LP made plans to build an oil pipeline that would stretch over a thousand miles from North Dakota to Iowa, and carry 570,000 barrels of crude oil per day. The pipeline, called the Dakota Access Pipeline, would run through the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation.

When the Dakota Access Pipeline was approved in 2016, the Standing Rock Sioux tribe sprang into action. The pipeline would run right next to their drinking water—any spill or leakage would contaminate their water supply. Additionally, the pipeline would run through the tribe’s sacred burial sites.

On April 1, 2016, a group of 200 Native Americans rode on horseback to protest the construction. They set up a camp, called The Sacred Stone Camp, which became a site of protest for the cause. In November, 2016, the protesters were ordered to evacuate their protest site. The protesters intended on staying, and clashed with the police.

Finally, the Obama Administration denied a key permit for the Dakota Access pipeline to be built. Protesters were relieved until a couple of months later, when the Trump Administration reversed that decision and approved further construction. The Dakota Access pipeline is now built, and carrying oil. Energy Transfer even plans on expanding, and transporting more oil.

But all hope is not lost. Standing Rock Activists did not give up the fight. Although the Sacred Stone Camp is gone, its ethos lives on in the Sacred Stone Village. Sacred Stone Village is an EcoVillage, whose mission is to combine Native traditions and sustainable living. Their Facebook page continues to update on the work that they have accomplished. Highlights include collecting trash from the cannonball river, planting indigenous trees and berries, and continuing to educate about the dangers of fossil fuels.

The individual activists from Standing Rock continue to speak out and work hard to warn against the dangers of oil pipelines. LaDonna Brave Bull Allard, founder of Sacred Stone Camp, continues to give speeches and educate the world about indigenous rights and environmental protection. Spiritual activist and former Standing Rock spokeswoman, Cheryl Angel, is still working towards her goal of uniting people in fighting for water safety and protection.

Three years later, activists won’t give up on their mission to fight for their slogan, Water is Life.

ELIANA DOFT loves to write, travel, and volunteer. She is especially excited by opportunities to combine these three passions through writing about social action travel experiences. She is an avid reader, a licensed scuba diver, and a self-proclaimed cold brew connoisseur.

I Was Called The N Word in The Philippines

January 17, 2017

It was only my second day in the Philippines and my Couchsurfing host invited me to watch a basketball game that he was playing in. Granted, the Philippines was a completely new country to me. I never thought that 2017 would bring me to Southeast Asia, but it has. In the Philippines, the heat makes you sweat relentlessly and you have to take numerous showers a day. Stray dogs and cats search for food in the streets, and trees are a beautiful invasion in the cities I’ve visited thus far. So much of it reminds me of my childhood visits to see family in Jamaica.

I head to the game around six pm and sit with my Couchsurfing host’s friend. It is only day two, but I’ve already become accustomed to one thing here. People stare at me. A lot. I know it’s because I’m black and traveling. The questions are always the same when I meet a new person here.

Do you play basketball? Do you know Lebron James? Is your father tall, just like you? Do you have a girlfriend?

Although traveling is about leaving your comfort zone, there is something to be said about how the identities that we are given in this world will affect us when abroad. I would never wish that I were white so that I could travel and feel more comfortable in this sense. I simply wish my representation in the media wasn’t controlled by people like who me and not white CEO’s.

The game starts and I notice little children gathering near me. They stare, whisper to one another and giggle before running away. After a few minutes, one little boy comes up to me and smiles.

“What’s your name?” he shouts.

I smile and tell him, “My name is Ryant. How old are you?”

He holds up seven fingers and then runs off. His friends greet him with an explosion of laughter. I am sure he will get the award for Bravest Boy in the Neighborhood later. Soon all of the kids are surrounding me, climbing onto my lap and asking questions. I’m invigorated by all of the energy, but I can’t help, but feel like a weird toy that one of them found and can’t wait to show off. More questions are fired off, an auction of how much information I can spit out. Then it happens.

“You’re a n----!”

My Couchsurfing host’s friend is sitting nearby and doesn’t bat any eyelash. On the outside, I nod awkwardly, but on the inside, I don’t quite know what to think. Since starting and graduating college, I’ve filled my mind with the words of many famous black freedom fighters. Angela Davis, a famous black activist born in Birmingham, Alabama in 1944 and who later faced an unfair trial for crimes she didn’t commit, wrote about the children she met while in Cuba:

Despite the language barrier, the children accepted us as members of the family. They helped me with my Spanish lessons each day. I was extremely embarrassed that I had not learned a little Spanish before the trip, for it is an affront to a people to visit them before having attempted to learn their language. Because I spoke Spanish so poorly, never having studied it, I felt less inhibited with the children. They were patient, corrected me and helped me find words when no dictionary was available.

It was a sad day indeed when we had to pack up our things and board the bus, ready to move on to the next stage of our journey. All of us cried — men and women alike, in our delegation as well as on the Cuban side. The hardest part for me was saying good-bye to the children. A young boy of about nine or ten, who had always been the toughest one of his group, seemed reluctant to come up and say good-bye. I thought that it was his natural shyness. Just before I got into the bus, I went over to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He tore away from me and ran as fast as he could. But once in the bus, I saw him standing behind a tree, trying to conceal himself as his body shook with sobs. The tears that had been flooding my own eyes slid down my face.

I think of her often when I can’t immediately find the words to respond to an ignorant comment from an acquaintance or when I need a push to live out my ideals for social justice. I’m looking at the faces of these cute Filipino kids and wondering how I can possibly unravel to them my life, my pain, and what it takes for a twenty two year old gay, Caribbean American boy to uproot his life and buy a one way ticket to Southeast Asia.

I realize it’s impossible.

“You shouldn’t say that word,” I tell them. “In the United States, it’s very bad.”

Immediately the kids start to frown and look at each other in confusion.

“Why?” the first boy who ran up to me asks.

I tell them the basics. In the United States, black and brown people have been treated badly for a long time. That word was used by white people to make people that look like me feel bad.

“Oh… That word means gangster fighter in Tagalog.” the kid replies.

I laugh as the coach in the game blows the whistle on a foul. The serious part of me doesn’t want to laugh, but I can’t help it. One problem leads to another of a different shade I suppose. I can’t break down racial stereotypes to a group of elementary aged children just yet.

“Teach me some Tagalog.” I request.

They all giggle and teach me phrases. When the game is over, they pull me onto the court and beg me to shoot a basket. Inside I’m rolling my eyes and wishing this wasn’t happening this way, but my heart is still melting. They run around me, teach me how to dribble and all jump in excitement when I shoot a basket after a million tries.

On my walk home, they all ask to add me on Facebook and I am laughing more. I’ve accepted that these moments may be a reality wherever I go, but acceptance does not mean I won’t struggle towards a more loving way of life. Travel opens the eyelids, pumps blood into the heart and fills the body with moments of awe. I felt that awe as those kids stared at me with their curious eyes and interacted with me so openly. I knew that I could strive to do the same in return and attempt to shed light on confusing, yet present truths as well.

Yes, I was called the n-word in the Philippines, but I do not define myself by the rules that society sets for a black person, a traveler, or 22 year old who is just trying make sense of a messy world. Instead, I keep going forward with conviction, sure that I’ll speak up whenever is necessary along the way.

RYANT TAYLOR

Ryant Taylor is a writer and activist from Cleveland, Ohio. He has participated in protests in France, Ferguson, and Standing Rock. He is the creator of Decolonize The Mind, a travel blog, and is currently freelance writing in the Philippines.