Academic Freedom: Repressive Government Measures Taken Against Universities in More Than 60 Countries

Universities around the world are increasingly under threat from governments restricting their ability to teach and research freely. Higher education institutions are being targeted because they are the home of critical inquiry and the free exchange of ideas. And governments want to control universities out of fear that allowing them to operate freely might ultimately limit governmental power to operate without scrutiny.

My recent report, co-authored with researcher Aron Suba for the International Centre for Not-for-Profit Law, has found evidence of restrictive and repressive government measures against universities and other higher education institutions in more than 60 countries.

This includes government interference in leadership and governance structures to effectively create state-run institutions that are particularly vulnerable to government actions. It also includes the criminalisation of academics for their work as well as the militarisation and securitisation of campuses through the presence of armed forces or surveillance by security services. We also found evidence that students have been prevented from attending university because of their parents’ political beliefs, while others have been expelled or even imprisoned for expressing their own opinions.

Some of the more shocking examples of repressive practices have been widely publicised, such as the firing of thousands of academics and jailing of others in Turkey. But much of what is happening is at an “administrative” level – against individual institutions or the entire higher education system.

There are examples of governments that restrict access to libraries and research materials, censor books and prevent the publication of research on certain topics. Governments have also stopped academics travelling to meet peers, and interfered with curricula and courses. And our research also found governments have even interfered in student admissions, scholarships and grades.

Repression, intimidation

Hungary provides a particularly glaring recent example of government interference with university autonomy. The politicised targeting of the institution I work at –- Central European University –- has been well documented. But the government has also recently acted against academic life in the country more broadly. It has effectively prohibited the teaching of a course (gender studies) and taken control of the well-regarded Hungarian Academy of Social Sciences.

What makes the Hungarian example especially disturbing is that it is happening within the European Union – with seemingly no consequences for the government. This is despite the EU Charter of Fundamental Rights which states that: “The arts and scientific research shall be free of constraint. Academic freedom shall be respected.” Meanwhile the Hungarian government still has all the privileges of being an EU member state, which includes receiving large sums of EU money.

Public demonstration in front of the Hungarian Academy of Science building against the removal of the Academy Science Research Institute’s autonomy. Istvan Balogh/Shutterstock

The inexplicable failure by the EU to enforce its own standards is particularly troubling and helps to normalise this behaviour. Indeed, there are clear signs such repressive practices are spreading. Anti-human rights legislation, policy and practice that begins in one country is frequently copied in another. Anti-civil society legislation recently adopted in Hungary and Israel, for example, which aims to stop protests and minimise the number of organisations receiving funds from abroad, was previously adopted in Russia.

Repressive practices against universities are starting to spread in Europe. Earlier this year it was reported that the Ministry of Justice in Poland planned to sue a group of criminal law academics for their opinion on a new criminal law bill.

Academics in distress

The freedom of academics and university autonomy is not entirely without scrutiny. There are some excellent organisations, such as Scholars At Risk and the European University Association who actively monitor this sector. But, at an international level, university autonomy is rarely raised when governments’ human rights records are being examined. And there is no single organisation devoted to monitoring the range of issues identified in our recent report.

Without proper monitoring, universities, academics and students are even more vulnerable because there is little attention paid to these issues. And there is little pressure on governments not to undertake repressive measures at will.

Thousands demonstrate in central Budapest against higher education legislation seen as targeting the Central European University. Drone Media Studio/Shutterstock

A global monitoring framework is needed, underpinned by a clear definition of university autonomy. The UN and EU institutions also need to pay more attention to the dangers that such attacks on universities pose to democracy and human rights. A stronger line against governments who are acting in violation of existing standards should also be taken.

Universities should be autonomous in their operations and exercise self-governance. These institutions are crucial to the healthy functioning of democratic societies. Yet academic spaces are closing in countries around the world. This should be a concern for all. The time for action is now, before this trend becomes the new norm.

Kirsten Roberts Lyer is a Associate Professor of Practice, Acting Director Shattuck Centre, Central European University.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON THE CONVERSATION

Pope Affirms Catholic Church’s Duty to Indigenous Amazonians Hurt by Climate Change

The Catholic Church “hears the cry” of the Amazon and its peoples. That’s the message Pope Francis hopes to send at the Synod of the Amazon, a three-week meeting at the Vatican that ends Oct. 27.

Images from Rome show tribal leaders in traditional feather headdresses alongside Vatican officials in their regalia. They are gathered with hundreds of bishops, priests, religious sisters and missionaries to discuss the pastoral, cultural and ecological struggles of the Amazon.

The densely forested region spans nine South American countries, including Brazil, Colombia and Peru. Its more than 23 million inhabitants include 3 million indigenous people.

The Amazon meeting is part of Pope Francis’s efforts to build a “Church which listens.” Since taking office in 2013, Francis has revitalized the Catholic Church’s practice of “synods” – a Greek word meaning “council” – expanding decision-making in the church beyond the Vatican bureaucracy to gather input from the entire church, including from laypeople.

Voting on synod decisions, however, remains restricted to bishops and some male clergy.

The Amazon synod is the first such meeting to be organized for a specific ecological region. Media coverage of this event has emphasized its more controversial debates – such as the possibility of easing celibacy requirements in the rural Amazon, where priests are in extremely short supply.

But its focus is much broader: listening to the suffering of the Amazon – particularly the environmental challenges facing the region – and discerning how to respond as a global church.

Amazon in crisis

After more than a decade of environmental policies that successfully slowed deforestation in the Amazon, logging and agricultural clearing have begun to increase rapidly again. The fires in the Brazilian rainforest that captured headlines in early September are symptoms of much broader destruction.

Up to 17% of the Amazon rainforest has already been eliminated – dangerously close to the 20% to 40% tipping point that experts say would lead the entire ecosystem to collapse.

Deforestation of the Amazon is rapidly approaching the tipping point that, experts say, could lead to total collapse of the rainforest ecosystem. AP Photo/Leo Correa

Stories of deforestation can seem insignificant against the vastness of the Amazon, a region two-thirds the size of the lower 48 United States.

But for the 390 indigenous ethnic groups who inhabit the region, each burned forest grove, polluted stream or flooded dam site may mark the end of a way of life that’s survived for thousands of years.

Deprived of their land, many indigenous Amazonians are forced into an exposed life on the edge of frontier towns, where they are prey to sex trafficking, slave labor and violence. In Brazil alone, at least 1,119 indigenous people have been killed defending their land since 2003.

The Catholic Church recognizes that it still has to address the “open wound” of its own role in the colonial-era violence that first terrorized the indigenous peoples of the Americas, according to the synod’s working document. The church legitimated the colonial confiscation of lands occupied by indigenous peoples and its missionaries often suppressed indigenous cultures and religions.

For this reason, according to the Vatican, organizers of the synod have sought input through 260 listening events held in the region that reached nearly 87,000 people over the past two years. Indigenous leaders have been invited as observer participants in the meeting itself.

Learning from indigenous peoples

As a theologian who studies religious responses to the environmental crisis, I find the pope’s effort to learn from the indigenous people of the Amazon noteworthy.

The Vatican sees that the Amazon’s traditional residents know something much of humanity has long forgotten: how to live in ecological harmony with the environment.

“To the aboriginal communities we owe their thousands of years of care and cultivation of the Amazon,” the 58-page synod working document reads. “In their ancestral wisdom they have nurtured the conviction that all of creation is connected, and this deserves our respect and responsibility.”

Pope Francis has expressed his respect for indigenous peoples before.

At a meeting of indigenous leaders in Peru in January 2018 he said, “Your lives cry out against a style of life that is oblivious to its own real cost. You are a living memory of the mission that God has entrusted to us all: the protection of our common home.”

Global problems, local solutions

Environmental destruction isn’t the synod’s only concern.

Catholicism – long the dominant religion in Latin America – is rapidly losing members to evangelical Protestantism. Evangelicals are projected to eclipse Catholics in Brazil by 2032.

One advantage evangelical churches have in Amazonian countries is that they can appoint local indigenous pastors to minister to their communities. Meanwhile, with less than one priest per 8,000 Catholics in the Amazon, some isolated communities might see a priest only once a year.

Catholic churches are in short supply in rural Brazil, where many people will go a year without seeing a priest. AP Photo/Fernando Vergara

The scarcity of priests in rural Latin America is behind a proposal to the synod to ordain older married men as priests in isolated Amazonian communities.

In the the U.S., the celibacy question is easily mapped onto a familiar divide. Progressive Catholics argue that clerical celibacy should be optional, while conservative Catholics insist this discipline is fundamental to the faith.

The issue is far less politicized in the Amazon, where, in the words of one bishop, the Catholic Church remains a “visiting church” with limited day-to-day presence in indigenous communities.

Some might dismiss this synod as just a meeting. But, in my judgment, it is an attempt to apply Francis’ vision of a “listening Church” to the environmental crisis. The Synod of the Amazon marks a significant shift from high-minded papal exhortations about taking climate action to a global religious community that gives voice to those living on the front lines of ecological destruction.

Vincent J. Miller is a Professor of Religious Studies, University of Dayton

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON THE CONVERSATION

Following the Removal of Evo Morales, Anti-Indigenous Sentiment Explicit in Bolivia

In the aftermath of the ouster of former President of Bolivia, Evo Morales, many suspected a right-wing coup had taken place. Now, a month later, the status of Indigenous peoples in Bolivia hangs in the balance.

“Evo Morales speaking to a man wearing the Lluch’u, the knit cap typical to Andean indigenous peoples.” Sebastian Baryli. CC BY 2.0

In 2005, Evo Morales, of Aymara indigenous descent, was elected to become the first indigeneous President of Bolivia. Bolivia identified itself as a plurinational state following the ratification of a new Constitution in 2009, and is home to more than 36 indigenous peoples. In 2017, an estimated 48% of the population of Bolivia above the age of 15 was of indigeneous origin. Morales’s party, Movimiento al Socialismo (MAS--Movement Towards Socialism), represented a growing progressive force against the backdrop of the historically-conservative nation. Morales saw significant success over his three terms, stabilizing the Bolivian economy, spurring economic growth, reducing poverty significantly and bringing those living in extreme poverty down to half its previous rate, while heightening literacy rates across Bolivia. Under Morales, Bolivia became a more inclusive place: he instituted the Wiphala, which represents the plurinational status of Bolivia, as the nation’s second flag, and promoted a previously unparalleled number of women to his cabinet.

In 2016, Morales held a referendum in order to extend the term limits established within the 2009 Constitution, which was ultimately rejected in a 51% to 49% vote. However, in 2018 Morales appealed to the Bolivian Constitutional Tribunal, which allowed Morales to run for re-election for a fourth term as President of Bolivia. Although Morales was elected for a fourth term in October of 2019, an audit by the Organization of American States determined the election illegitimate, and many had questioned the legality of the Tribunal’s decision in 2018 even before the election came to pass. In the midst of protests that left over 30 dead and 700 injured, and under extreme pressure from the military, Morales stepped down and fled to Mexico.

In the immediate aftermath of the ouster of Morales’s administration, many questioned whether there had been a coup. Calls for Morales’s resignation began in the right, and gained traction; ultimately, Morales resigned following military coercion against him and his party. Although there has been a precedent for right-wing coups in Latin American history, especially aided and abetted by the United States, the case of Morales’s administration is complicated. While the military intervention does constitute an illegal seizure of power, the discontentment for Morales did not arise in a vacuum. Opposition leaders and former supporters alike felt that a fourth term meant a clear violation of the Constitution Morales himself had worked to implement, and many more agreed that Morales had begun to lose touch with the population after 14 years in office. Many of his former indigenous supporters were angered by Morales’s approval of a hydroelectric dam in indigenous territory.

Morales’s resignation triggered many of his top officials and closest political associates to resign as well, leaving the presidential seat to Jeanine Añez, formerly vice president of the Senate of Bolivia. The Constitution stipulates that a new election must be called for within ninety days, and upon taking power Añez openly assured the country that her taking power was purely transitional. Many have doubted Añez’s words, and have called for her resignation given her connection to the right-wing opposition in Bolivia.

Anti-indigenous graffiti has appeared throughout Bolivia, as well as videos depicting police cutting the Whiphala emblem from their uniforms. These actions have been empowered by Añez herself, in the past implicated in anti-indigenous tweets, who has called for police repression of pro-Morales protestors. Notably, Añez’s cabinet, even if temporary, contains no indigenous representatives, and it seems that she has already begun the process of rolling back strides made under Morales towards socialism and inclusion. In this way, growing worries that the rise of a new right-wing government will revive festering anti-indigenous sentiment are well-founded. Ultimately, the political uprising in Bolivia leaves the future of indigenous rights in danger, as outrage towards Morales has opened the floodgates for discrimination against the indigenous population as a whole.

Hallie Griffiths

Hallie Griffiths is an undergraduate at the University of Virginia studying Foreign Affairs and Spanish. After graduation, she hopes to apply her passion for travel and social action toward a career in intelligence and policy analysis. Outside of the classroom, she can be found, quite literally, outside: backpacking, rock climbing, or skiing with her friends.

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

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.

From North Carolina to Norway, Fossil Fuel Divestment Hits Headlines

Whether motivated by practical or ideological means, institutions around the world are pulling their finances out of oil, gas, and coal.

Divestment protest at Tufts University. James Ennis. CC BY 2.0

Upon receiving the news in 2017 that our planet is in the midst of its sixth mass extinction event, spurred partly by rampant climate change, stunned denizens of Earth everywhere struggled to process the implications and searched for concrete ways to mitigate the damage. In the months since, countless climate proposals have rolled out across the globe, and U.S. citizens have watched as 2020 presidential hopefuls laid out their plans—all while the current president decried the very existence of climate change. In the flurry of rhetoric and policy aimed at addressing the climate crisis, one strategy continues to hold strong: fossil fuel divestment, which has hit the headlines this summer with particular force.

On July 4—Independence Day in the United States—Britain’s largest membership organization declared independence from fossil fuel investments. The National Trust, which stewards 780 miles of coastline; 612,000 acres of land; and more than 500 historic houses, castles, monuments, and parks, announced that it would divest its £1 billion portfolio from fossil fuels in a bid to address the worsening climate crisis. 

Previously, the trust had invested £45 million into oil, gas, and mining companies, despite having made earlier pledges to cut down on its own use of fossil fuels. The vast majority of those investments will be withdrawn in the next 12 months, the trust promises, and 100 percent within three years. The freed-up funds will be diverted to alternative energy options: CFO Peter Vermeulen told The Guardian, “Now we will seek to invest in green startup businesses and other suitable portfolios that deliver benefits for the environment, nature and people.”

Fossil Free Freiburg divestment protest. 350.org. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

Five hundred miles away in Norway, another high-profile institution is also preparing to drop fossil fuels: the Government Pension Fund Global (GPFG), which was founded in 1990 to oversee the integration of petroleum revenues into the national economy, and which invests in more than 9,000 companies worldwide, including Apple, Amazon, and Microsoft. On June 21, Norway’s parliament, the Storting, approved plans for the GPFG to divest more than $13 billion of the $1.06 trillion it manages from investments in oil, gas, and coal. The decision comes with some caveats: GPFG will only divest from companies that are exclusively involved with fossil fuels, but not oil companies that also have renewable energy units, such as BP and Royal Dutch Shell. And the fund maintains that financial considerations, not ideological ones, are behind the divestment, given the risk posed by fluctuations in oil prices. Nevertheless, environmental advocates can appreciate the fact that GPFG will earmark up to 2 percent of its funds—or about $20 billion—for investments in renewable energy.

In some cases, not only individual institutions are divesting, but also entire regions. At the beginning of June, the city council of Charlottesville, Va., voted 4-1 to divest the city’s operating budget investments from any entity involved with the production of fossil fuels or weapons. Supporters explain that the divestment—which will be carried out within 30 days of the decision—aligns with the city’s strategic plan goals, including being responsible stewards of natural resources. Charlottesville joins various other college towns across the United States, including Ann Arbor, Mich., and Berkeley, Calif., in pledging to divest.

At some universities, however, the prospect of divestment has long brewed controversy, which is coming to a head in light of the climate crisis. During Al Gore’s speech at Harvard University on May 29, the former vice president turned environmental activist called on his alma mater to divest, stating that climate change is “a threat to the survival of human civilization as we know it” and framing divestment as “a moral issue” for the university. In recent years, student activists at Harvard have ramped up demands on the school to divest, and the student newspaper reversed its formerly opposed position in May, acknowledging that Harvard’s reluctance to entertain the possibility of divestment “compromises its efforts to position itself as an academic institution at the forefront of the fight against climate change.” On the administrative side, more than 300 faculty members have signed a petition calling for divestment of fossil fuel stocks. Nevertheless, this number represents less than 14 percent of all faculty, and the university maintains the opinion that it should impact public policy through research rather than through its endowment.

Advocates for divestment at Harvard. victorgrigas. CC BY-SA 3.0

Across the country, 47 U.S. colleges and universities have chosen to divest, although the number has dropped off in recent years, with only 10 making the decision since 2017. Most recently, the Board of Trustees at the University of North Carolina, Asheville, voted on June 21 to divest a portion of their $50 million endowment from fossil fuels. The unanimous vote, which will make the Asheville campus the first in the UNC system to divest, builds on a resolution spearheaded by student activists. In concert with administration and the Board, these activists researched new funds in which the university could invest about 10 percent of its capital, eventually landing on Walden Asset Management, which focuses on investing using environmental, social, and governance criteria.

Botanical gardens at Asheville. David441491. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Meanwhile, earlier this month, the University of California—another sprawling and well-regarded state university system—saw 77 percent of its voting faculty agree “to divest the university’s endowment portfolio of all investments in the 200 publicly-traded fossil fuel companies with the largest carbon reserves.” The decision is now in the hands of the University Regents. Should the Regents choose to divest, the news would make waves on the national level due to U Cal’s significant size and prestige—and in the fight against fossil fuels, ideological statements, even if they have negligible bearing on the industry’s financial resources, are of the utmost importance.

Individuals in academic circles, therefore, are beginning to take their own stands to support divestment. In a piece for the Chronicle of Higher Education, climate activists Christiana Figueres and Bill McKibben explain that they have begun refusing to accept honorary degrees from colleges that have not divested, writing, “[e]ach of us has already turned down these honors at institutions that remain committed to coal, gas, and oil.” Meanwhile, members of the younger generation are also weighing in—such as Jamie Margolin, a rising high school senior and prominent environmental activist with more than 11,000 Twitter followers. In a piece for Teen Vogue last month, Margolin wrote, “I have serious concerns about how my future school might be investing in fossil fuels and, if they can’t be convinced to divest by student activists like me, how that might render my college education useless.” From Norway to Britain to Asheville to Cambridge, from Ivy-educated vice presidents to those still awaiting their high school degrees, the world is beginning to agree that taking action is not optional.






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.




Blue Out on Insta

Blue Out on Instagram: Support for Sudan through Social Media Awareness

Sudan Flag Sticker on a Car. pjbury. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Recently, a specific shade of blue has been popping up around Instagram in the form of profile pictures. This Blue Out was started by Instagram influencer Shahd (@hadyouatsalaam). She is a Sudanese-born, New York City-based activist—or how she likes to identify herself, “a political scientist by degree and a social media influencer by interest”, according to her recent Insta post, introducing herself to her new followers. 

Shahd created this movement for the sole purpose of raising awareness to what is currently going on in Sudan. Protests in Sudan began in December of last year, when there was a price-spike in basic commodities (i.e. bread). It was not until April 11th, after a mass, multi-day sit-in, that the Sudanese people did see the change they wished for. The current President, a man named Omar al-Bashir, and his party were being jailed or put on house arrest. The protestors believed this to be a victory. They were wrong. General Awad Ibn Auf, the Vice President, soon gave a televised statement explaining the new governmental system that was going to be put in place—one run by three separate military factions called the Transitional Military Council (TMC). He stated that they intended to remain in power for two years until the country could elect a new President, also claiming a three-month state of emergency and curfew. The people did not accept these conditions and in under 24 hours, Ibn Auf resigned and General Abdelfattah al-Burhaan become the new chairman.

Since General Abdelfattah al-Burhaan’s new appointment, negotiations between the people and the TMC have been chaotic. Once again being fed up, the Sudaneese people, with the people of the Sudanese Professionals Association (SPA), organized a mass strike from the 28th of May to the 29th. These strikes immediately became violent and the TMC used these mass demonstrations to portray the SPA in a vicious light. On June 3rd, government forces began shooting at the protestors which, reportedly, left 118 dead and many more injured. Since then, an Internet black out has been in place and thus sparked social media outcry.

But why should this matter to us? The answer is simple: because we have the power and the privilege of accessing the Internet with the capable means of shouting loud enough that somebody will listen. Over the past two weeks, because of the uproar on social media, there have been an influx of articles written about what is going on, how long it has been going on, what is the important information that we need to know about the revolution in Sudan. One Instagram user, Rachek Cargle (@rachel,cargle), with the help of “an incredible group of activists” has even composed a masterlist of articles ranging from immediate updates to fundraising efforts, according to her post that calls for any more information to add. 

Unfortunately, with the uproar, there have also been people who cruelly want to capitalize on the movement for clout reasons. Just last week, a post went viral that claimed for every re-post to a page or story, the originators of the account would donate meals to the Sudanese people. Very soon, the page was labeled as a hoax given curious peoples’ inquiries into how they would provide the food, where is the funding coming from, and other questions which the page either did not answer or gave vague responses to. From these instances, it is important to remember that when trying to get information out, there needs to be a more thorough and conscious effort on the part of other social media users to not just mindlessly click-and-post, but rather, do a quick search about what the post is, and then determine whether or not it is legitimate. 

Using the privilege we have—whether it be from simply having the means to repost an article or getting in contact with local government officials so they can talk about what is going on—is a butterfly-effect that will change how the Sudanese revolution will go. Being complacent or a bystander is just as harmful as supporting the violence because inaction is not action, inaction does not bring about change but lets things remain as they are, because they are not directly affecting us. I encourage those of you reading this article to look at the Instagram influencers I have mentioned as well as the hashtag #Iamsudanrevolution. There you will find countless posts, articles, links, and organizations that can inform you, help you, and guide you on how you can help. For immediate action, check out Cargle’s post which is a picture of protestors with SUDAN in bold, blue letters and the subtitle of Information & Support Round Up. There you will find the link to the master document which will provide the beginning of any information you want to know. 

I must repeat—acting as a bystander perpetuates the actions that are harming individuals because it is neglecting them the action they need. Use your privilege for something productive. 




OLIVIA HAMMOND is an undergraduate at Emerson College in Boston, Massachusetts. She studies Creative Writing, with minors in Sociology/Anthropology and Marketing. She has travelled to seven different countries, most recently studying abroad this past summer in the Netherlands. She has a passion for words, traveling, and learning in any form. 



5 Social Action Songs about the Most Pressing Issues of 2019

Musicians Use Their Lyrics as Calls to Action

John Legend, singer of “Preach.” Lauren Monaco. CC 2.0.

Throughout the ages, some musicians have used their song lyrics as a tool to impart their political, social, and spiritual beliefs. Musicians have a unique opportunity to reach audiences with their words because unlike politicians and speechmakers or television, radio, or published personalities, musicians have their words sung over and over again by their audience. Their words—and subsequently, their ideas—are repeated with a catchy tune, until they are ingrained in the memories of their listeners.

Think about how John Lennon’s 1971 piece, “Imagine”, or Bob Marley’s 1973 hit “Get Up, Stand Up,” are still being played on the radio, and on playlists, for over 40 years. Their messages live on, even after they have both passed away.

In 2019, there is still much to protest and sing about. Musicians are still taking advantage of their platform to write and produce songs with a mission, or a call to action. Here are some powerful songs written in 2019 by famous musicians:

Madonna, “I Rise”

Madonna makes a statement about protest and gun control in her new single, “I Rise.” The song opens with a clip from a speech that Emma Gonzalez delivered to a gun control rally in Fort Lauderdale, Florida in 2018. Gonzalez became an advocate for gun control after surviving the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School shooting in 2018.

In her song, Madonna encourages her audience to act like Gonzalez, and “Rise,” in the face of adversity. She sings, “There's nothing you can do to me that hasn't been done

Not bulletproof, shouldn't have to run from a gun.” She recognizes as humans, we are vulnerable, but we also have the power to take action as a group. This is demonstrated by her switch from “I Rise,” to “We Rise,” at the end of her song.

The Killers, “Land of the Free”

In “Land of the Free” The Killers make a scathing critique of American society. Their music video contains clips of migrants trying to cross the border from Mexico to the United States. The video does not omit the barbed wire, security guards, and fences that will greet them. The Killers sing, “Down at the border, they're gonna put up a wall, Concrete and Rebar Steel beams (I'm standing crying), High enough to keep all those filthy hands off, Of our hopes and our dreams (I'm standing crying),People who just want the same things we do, In the land of the free.”

Like Madonna, The Killers also mention gun control. “So how many daughters, tell me, how many sons, Do we have to have to put in the ground, Before we just break down and face it

We got a problem with guns? (Oh oh oh oh), In the land of the free.” They also bring up race and privilege, “ When I go out in my car, I don't think twice, But if you're the wrong color skin (I'm standing, crying), You grow up looking over both your shoulders.”

The Killers are holding up a mirror to their audience and asking them: Is America really the land of the free and home of the brave? How can we change?

John Legend, “Preach”

Ironically, in “Preach,” John Legend sings about how it’s not enough to simply write songs, speak out, or “preach” to an audience. It is more important to take action when things are wrong in society.

He sings, “Every day I wake and, Everything is broken, Turning off my phone just to get out of bed. Get home every evening, And history’s repeating, Turning off my phone cuz it’s hurting my chest.” His music video features clips of police brutality against African Americans, and violence at the border with Mexico, as issues that deeply hurt him.

Yet, Legend knows that action speaks louder than words. “I can’t just preach, baby, preach. And heaven knows I’m not helpless, What can I do? Can’t see the use in me crying

If I’m not even trying to make the change I wanna see.”

Fever 333, “One of Us”

In “One of Us,” rock band Fever 333’s rage is contagious. They are angry about the state of society today. They sing about the people in power, “They gotta isolate, they gotta segregate this. Just to keep us down, to keep us broken down.”

Instead of breaking down under oppression, Fever 333 sends the message that we are all united in taking responsibility for change. In their music video, the band marches on the street among protesters for many types of causes—from environmental, to social.

They scream at their listeners, as a wake up call, to “Stand up or die on your knees.” If we don’t stand up for ourselves, nobody else will.

Yungblud, “Parents”

The desperation and pessimism at an out-of-touch leadership is palpable in Yungblud’s “Parents.” He writes about he, and people in the LGBTQ communtiy suffer at the hands of intolerant and closed-minded people.  He sings, “My daddy put a gun to my head

Said if you kiss a boy, I'm gonna shoot you dead. “

Even though Yungblud’s “high hopes are getting low,” he sings, “I'll never be alone

It's alright, we'll survive. 'Cause parents ain't always right.” Yungblud is hopeful in a new generation of ally leaders.


In 2019, just as in the past, artists continue to try and inspire change, action, and introspection through their words. Who knows which activists and movements they will inspire?



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. 

New Zealand’s “Headscarf for Harmony” Effort

Women wear headscarves to stand in solidarity with New Zealand Muslim community.

This week, women in New Zealand are wearing hijabs to stand in solidarity with the Muslim community following the shooting of 50 people at two mosques in Christchurch.

The effort, called “Headscarf for Harmony”, was created by Auckland doctor Thaya Ashman. After hearing a Muslim woman say that she was afraid to leave her house wearing a hijab, Ashman wanted a way to show her support and solidarity. “I wanted to say: We are with you, we want you to feel at home on your own streets, we love, support and respect you,” she told Reuters.


Ashman spoke with the Islamic Women’s Council of New Zealand and the Muslim Association of New Zealand before putting the effort into action. She told the New Zealand Herald that she used the word headscarf instead of hijab to recognize the cultural difference present for non-Muslims.

The Headscarf for Harmony hashtag continues to spread across social media. where New Zealanders are posting pictures of themselves in headscarves accompanied by captions offering their support for the Muslim community.

"These people are New Zealanders, just like I am,” twenty four-year-old Cherie Hailwood told CNN. “I understand that one day is very different to wearing it all the time, but I am honored to be given the permission of the Muslim community to walk in their shoes. Even just for a day.”

Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern wore a black headscarf when meeting with members of the Muslim community. Even news anchors and reporters joined the effort, wearing headscarves on live television. At an open prayer at the Al Noor mosque where the attack had taken place, New Zealand women wore head scarves as a gesture of respect and solidarity.

“Being a Muslim, I’m overwhelmed,” one man tweeted, “I have never seen this kind of solidarity in my entire life—the vigils, the Haka performances, the scarves. It’s just amazing and heartwarming.”

Not all supported the effort. On Stuff.co.nz a Muslim woman published an unsigned article saying that while the movement may mean well, it is no more than “cheap tokenism”.

She wrote that the effort, “stinks of white savior mentality, where Muslim women need to be rescued by (largely) white folk. This type of ideology plays a part in the pyramid of white supremacy and must be acknowledged so people can stop virtue signaling and understand the impact of their actions.”

She went on to say that the attack, “was not just about Muslims, it was against any person of colour in a 'white' country so this focus on hijabs is derailing the examination of white supremacy, systematic racism, orientalism and bigotry. We don't want to be turned into a caricature.”

 

 


EMMA BRUCE is an undergraduate student studying English and marketing at Emerson College in Boston. While not writing she explores the nearest museums, reads poetry, and takes classes at her local dance studio. She is passionate about sustainable travel and can't wait to see where life will take her.

‘This is Africa’: Depictions of Black People in Mainland China

Earlier this year, Black Panther premiered in theaters around the world. The latest in a string of comic book-themed films turned out to be more of a cultural event than a mere movie. Black Panther broke records in the United States, as well as Great Britain, North and South Korea, and East and West Africa, dispelling the long-held Hollywood myth that “black films don’t travel.” Though fictional, the film struck a chord with audiences, as it featured a predominantly black cast and did not put them into the stereotypical roles often lamented by moviegoers. The film, however, was not as successful in Mainland China. Despite the fact that China is a major trading partner with the African continent, many Chinese moviegoers bristled at the idea of seeing Africans up close.

Chadwick Boseman, star of the movie Black Panther, appearing at Comic-Con in San Diego. Gaga Skidmore. CC BY SA-2.0

China was relatively closed to foreign trade until Deng Xiaoping's economic reform in 1978. Because of this, interactions with non-Chinese people are still a relatively new phenomenon. There is also a traditional standard in China that equates lighter skin with a comfortable, indoor lifestyle, and darker skin with peasantry, having to labor in fields under the hot sun. This combined with exposure to western media creates an environment that can be less than hospitable to blacks. Last year, an exhibit at the Hubei Provincial Museum in Wuhan titled, “This is Africa”, featured a portrait of a young African boy placed next to the portrait of a monkey. The exhibit was visited by over 100,000 people before criticism from the African community prompted museum officials to dismantle it, and the museum curator to take responsibility for the presentation. In February of this year, the same month Black Panther premiered, China’s Central China Television (CCTV) network came under fire when it aired a skit featuring a Chinese actor in blackface. Beijing issued a statement saying it was opposed to racism of any kind, but did not apologize for the skit.

Western nations are by no means immune to racial prejudice. While the Civil Rights movement of the 1960’s attempted to resolve many of the racial schisms that split the United States, lingering prejudices remain in various parts of the country. In recent years, proponents of racism have become more desperate, and less discreet. In January, the president of the United States allegedly referred to El Salvador, Haiti, and various African nations as “shithole countries,” seemingly forgetting his role as chief diplomat. Perceptions of Africa, and by extension those of African descent, are still slanted by the media, and media still accounts for much of the world’s education. This creates a quandary for those who have to live day-to-day under the banner of these stereotypes.

The CCTV building in Beijing. Verdgris. CC BY SA-3.0


There are some things that we believe because it serves us to believe them. Racism today is more than mere ideology. Like sexism, racism has evolved into a cultural standard, feeding into a lifestyle standard that is enjoyed, or not enjoyed, by millions of people around the world. As we begin to tinker with the idea racism, we also tinker with the standards it creates in our societies-some people are bound to get upset. At the same time, this tinkering opens new possibilities for growth, for all the parties it applies to. It refutes old characterizations of people and cultures and encourages us to make connections that we may not have considered before. All change involves a degree of pain and uncertainty, but we can only move forward, confident that the benefits of our efforts will justify the challenges.






JONATHAN ROBINSON is an intern at CATALYST. He is a travel enthusiast always adding new people, places, experiences to his story. He hopes to use writing as a means to connect with others like himself. 



Greece’s Lifejacket Graveyard

High up in the sunburnt hills of Lesvos, Greece lies a black and orange heap of plastic. It is large, about the size of an Olympic swimming pool, but its vastness pales in comparison to the scope of the reasons why it is there—the half a million and growing masses of displaced refugees who have washed up upon the island’s shores.

Lesvos is a major port for refugees fleeing chaos in the middle east, mostly from war-torn Afghanistan and Syria. The journey across the sea can be deadly. Refugees often pay over $5000 to smugglers who will bring them across the Mediterranean to supposedly safe ports in Europe, but there is no guarantee that the smugglers have not been bribed for one reason or another, or that the journey will be successful.

The black and orange heaps rotting in the hills of Lesvos are made up of lifejackets and boats that belonged to those who made it over, but in those quiet mountains one can almost hear the whispering of the hundreds of thousands who were lost on the way. A closer look reveals children’s floaties, some painted with princess decals, some emblazoned with the message, This is not a flotation device.

Once in Lesvos, the owners of these lifejackets were carted into packed camps, where many of them have remained for years. Conditions in the Moria camp in particular have been widely maligned by human rights organizations around the world. The camp was made to hold 2,000 people and now holds over 6,000, according to official reports, though many believe that the number has exceeded 8,000. Refugees live in cramped makeshift tents that flood when it rains, and the camps are overrun by disease, mental illness stemming from severe trauma, and chaos.

Following the Arab Spring in 2011, which catalyzed revolutions across the Middle East, Syria and many other countries experienced a mass exodus, leading to the flood of people seeking asylum in Europe that has come to be known as the modern refugee crisis.

Many refugees are university-educated professionals, fleeing in hopes of finding a better life for themselves and their families. But once in Europe, they are often caught up in bureaucratic tangles that keep them stagnant in the camps for years at a time, despite the fact that many already have family members in other parts of the continent.

Thousands of volunteers have flocked to the island in order to help. Nonprofits like A Drop in the Ocean host lessons and English classes for refugees, and facilitate the safe landings of newly arrived boats. Others work to provide hygienic services, like the organization Showers for Sisters, which provides safe showers and sanitary products to women and children.

Lesvos itself still functions in part as a tourist town, though it is mostly populated by volunteers, refugees, and locals. Not far from the lifejacket graveyard is the pleasant seaside town of Molyvos, which boasts sandy beaches and restaurants serving traditional Greek fare.

Much of the island is made up of open space, populated only by olive groves and forests, open plains, and abandoned buildings. The lifejacket graveyard is located in one such empty plain, and except for scavenging seagulls and goats, the area is empty, making the presence of the rotting heaps of plastic even more unnerving.

The only other proof of human presence to be found lies on a wall of graffiti nearby a garbage dump, marked by the sentiment Shame on you, Europe.

The combination of the Greek financial crisis and rising tides of nationalism occurring at the same time as the height of the refugee crisis have caused xenophobic sentiments to allow these horrifically overcrowded camps to mar this beautiful tropical island, which once inspired the Greek poet Sappho to write her legendary love poems.

The lifejacket graveyard has been left standing partly because of island officials’ lack of motivation to clean it up, and partly as a statement, a tribute to the thousands who still wait in limbo on the island.

If you are interested in helping out, organizations mostly need financial contributions, legal aid, medical aid, translators, and publicity. It is also possible to volunteer, and opportunities and detailed information can be found at sites like greecevol.info.

Eden Arielle Gordon

Eden Arielle Gordon is a writer, musician, and avid traveler. She attends Barnard College in New York.

SOUTH AFRICA: Dinner in Khayelitsha

South African apartheid is frequently written off as a memory, something that ended decades ago. But from the start of my visit to South Africa, it became clear that the violence of that period has continued to bleed into the present, manifesting itself in clear racial and economic divides.

I visited Cape Town in the summer of 2016. Cape Town is a city of contrasts—tall, imposing mountains cast shadows over clear blue seas, and seaside villas luxuriate only a few miles away from derelict townships.

These townships are the subject of this piece. Townships in South Africa are villages that remain from apartheid-era forced exoduses of non-white people, cast out of their homes and crammed into segregated areas.

These townships still stand today. They are mostly collections of mottled tin-roof shacks and cramped streets, and they are home to 38% of South Africa’s population of 18.7 million.

From the beginning of my arrival in South Africa, I was told by locals that the townships were unsafe, especially for outsiders. But one day, I returned to my flat in the town of Observatory and one of my roommates asked me if I wanted to visit one.

The visit would be hosted, she told me, by Dine With Khayelitsha, a program founded by four young township residents designed to foster communication between their communities and those outside. Dine With Khayelitsha started in March 2015, as part of a partnership with Denmark and Switerland intended on working as a fundraiser. It then grew and has now hosted over 100 dinners. Each dinner is attended by at least one of the founders, who assures the safe transportation of every participant.

Thanks to this organization, I found myself on a bus driving into one of the townships, and then I was suddenly in a house with a bunch of strangers, eating authentic South African beans and meat.

We arrived at the township’s president’s home, though she was not there—she was outside campaigning, and instead several locals were cooking the meal for the night.

I had come with my new friend, and among the other attendees were two Dutch women, an artist from Germany, a couple from France and Morocco, and a South African black woman. Noticeably absent were white native South Africans, a fact that we asked the hosts about. Apparently, South Africans themselves still persistently ostracize the townships, creating divisions between themselves and the poorer underside of their country.

Our hosts were a few young men from the townships. They had all attended college and one worked in IT and another in software engineering, and most of them also ran after school programs such as leadership and self-esteem workshops for township kids. They had started this organization in an effort to generate more dialogue among South Africans and to raise awareness and reduce stigma concerning the townships.

First, they asked us to discuss one act of kindness we’d performed recently. As night fell, the talk began to flow more easily.  We discussed the fact that so many kids from townships are forced to go through school and university, if they can make it that far, in order to get menial jobs that can support their families. For these kids, following their dreams is not an option, but it is rather an inconceivable luxury. One of the hosts said that he would love to run education programs for kids, but instead he had to become an engineer to support his family.

After dinner, as we were waiting for a bus to come pick us up, I asked one of the men if most people born into townships grow up wanting to escape, to find better lives. He told me that some did, but in his opinion, it is far more important to stay in the townships and to try to create a better life there. That’s what he had done; he’d gotten an education and a job and still lives in the townships, trying to create programs and to help uplift the state of the community.

I talked to another local who was a writer, and his eyes shone as he talked about how he can capture strange and vivid moments with words—and another who spoke passionately about his desire to hear stories from people all around the world. There was an undercurrent of kindness that seemed to link these people together that I have rarely seen; a desire to include others, to tell stories and to share parts of their lives, to not build walls but to rather create open streams of connection. To create rather than to destroy.

Conversations like this one cannot heal or make up for old wounds inflicted upon non-white people in South Africa—only physical reparations and policy changes can truly begin that process. But they are a step in the right direction—a step towards understanding that we are all part of the same global community, and the walls between us are really made of dust.

EDEN ARIELLE GORDON is a writer, musician, and avid traveler. She attends Barnard College in New York.