WRITER Amit Chaudhuri AMIT CHAUDHURI is the author of eight novels, the latest of which is Sojourn . He is also an essayist, poet, musician, and composer. He is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature. Awards for his fiction include the Commonwealth Writers Prize, the Encore Prize, the Los Angeles Times Book Prize for Fiction, and the Indian government's Sahitya Akademi Award. In 2013, he was awarded the inaugural Infosys Prize in the Humanities for outstanding contribution to literary studies. His first novel, A Strange and Sublime Address , is included in Colm Toibin and Carmen Callil's The Modern Library: the 200 best novels of the last 50 years, and his second novel, Afternoon Raag , was on the novelist Anne Enright's list of 10 best short novels for the Guardian. Its 25th anniversary edition appeared last year with a new introduction by the critic James Wood. He is a highly regarded singer in the Hindustani classical tradition and has been acclaimed as a pathbreaking composer and improviser who performed, most recently, at Queen Elizabeth Hall, London. In 2017, the government of West Bengal awarded Chaudhuri the Sangeet Samman for his contribution to Indian classical music. He is Professor of Contemporary Literature at the University of East Anglia, and was University College London's Annual Visiting Fellow in 2018. That year, he was also an inaugural fellow at the Columbia Institute of Ideas and Imagination in Paris, and in 2019 became an honorary fellow at Balliol College, Oxford. WRITER WEBSITE INSTAGRAM TWITTER Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 LOAD MORE

In December 2020, four of our founding editors discussed the origins of the South Asian Avant-Garde, what drew so many of us from our varied backgrounds to the thematic core of the avant-garde from an internationalist, leftist perspective, and where we hoped to go in the future. | · INTERACTIVE Live · Virtual FLUX · A Panel on SAAG, So Far In December 2020, four of our founding editors discussed the origins of the South Asian Avant-Garde, what drew so many of us from our varied backgrounds to the thematic core of the avant-garde from an internationalist, leftist perspective, and where we hoped to go in the future. Watch the event in full on IGTV. FLUX: An Evening in Dissent For our first virtual event, in December of 2020, the SAAG founding editors looked to what we had managed to establish thus far—as a project begun in the pandemic with a diverse collective—and what we hoped to accomplish in the future. Aishwarya Kumar moderated a panel with fellow editors Kartika Budhwar, Shreyas R Krishnan, and Nur Nasreen Ibrahim to discuss our early interview series as well as reporting, fiction, comics, zines, and the broader community-building efforts that motivated us and continue to. Jaishri Abichandani's Art Studio Tour Kshama Sawant & Nikil Saval: A panel on US left electoralism, COVID-19, recent victories, & lasting problems. Natasha Noorani's Live Performance of "Choro" Bhavik Lathia & Jaya Sundaresh: A panel on the US Left & its relationship with media in the wake of Bernie Sanders' loss. Tarfia Faizullah: Poetry Reading Rajiv Mohabir: Poetry Reading DJ Kiran: A Celebratory Set SUB-HEAD Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Live Virtual The Editors FLUX Global The Local and Global Internationalist Perspective Pitching Craft Submitting Operations The Editor's Craft Editing Avant-Garde Origins Avant-Garde Traditions Avant-Garde Beginnings in India Experimental Methods Aamer Hussein Zines Comics Magazine Culture Anthology Traditions Reportage Activist Media Iowa St. Louis Hybrid Karachi Kadak Collective Pitches Ethos Interview Series Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. 5th Dec 2020 AUTHOR · AUTHOR Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. 1 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 On That Note:

“It's very easy for us to talk about being in solidarity with somebody or groups of people, but what do we mean by that? What is the history of that?” | · COMMUNITY Panel · Concepts What Does Solidarity Mean? “It's very easy for us to talk about being in solidarity with somebody or groups of people, but what do we mean by that? What is the history of that?” Panel 1 of the event "Solidarity: Beyond the Disaster-Verse" held on 30th March 2024. The first panel from our event on 30th March 2024, “ Solidarity: Beyond the Disaster-Verse, ” at ShapeShifter Lab in Brooklyn, New York, which marked the close of Volume 2 Issue 1 of SAAG. Here, Kamil Ahsan, Azad Essa, Heba Gowayed, Tehila Sasson, and Suchitra Vijayan discuss what "solidarity" means as a concept, how it is used, and whether it is useful. It begins with some of the rhetoric that Kamil Ahsan discusses in his essay and editorial that closed Vol. 2 Issue 1 of SAAG, entitled Into the Disaster-Verse . What follows is a discussion of four books from the panelists, including: Azad Essa's Hostile Homelands: The New Alliance Between India and Israel (Pluto Press, November 2022), Heba Gowayed's Refuge: How the State Shapes Human Potential (April 2022, Princeton University Press), Suchitra Vijayan's How Long Can the Moon Be Caged? Voices of Indian Political Prisoners (co-authored with Francesca Recchia, Pluto Press, August 2023), and Tehila Sasson's forthcoming Solidarity Economy: Nonprofits and the Making of Neoliberalism after Empire (May 2024, Princeton University Press). Photographs courtesy of Josh Steinbauer © Josh Steinbauer © Josh Steinbauer © Josh Steinbauer © Josh Steinbauer © Josh Steinbauer © Josh Steinbauer © Josh Steinbauer © Josh Steinbauer © Josh Steinbauer © Josh Steinbauer © Josh Steinbauer © Josh Steinbauer © Josh Steinbauer © Josh Steinbauer © Josh Steinbauer SOLIDARITY: BEYOND THE DISASTER VERSE Panel 2: On the Relationship between Form & Resistance SOLIDARITY: BEYOND THE DISASTER VERSE Quintet Performance SUB-HEAD Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Panel Concepts Solidarity Palestine Israel The Solidarity Economy Refugees Syria India Political Prisoners NGOs Humanitarianism Intellectual History Sociology History Writing about Recent History Language Disaster & Language Technology & Power Technology & Majoritarianism Israel & India Ties Kashmir Apartheid Welfare State Racializing Logics Asylum Diasporas Abolitionism Event Solidarity: Across the Disaster-Verse Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. 8th Apr 2024 AUTHOR · AUTHOR Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. 1 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 On That Note:

COO of Fearless Collective, Tehani Ariyaratne, in conversation with Senior Editor Sabika Abbas Naqvi. COMMUNITY Public Art Projects as Feminist Reclamation AUTHOR AUTHOR AUTHOR COO of Fearless Collective, Tehani Ariyaratne, in conversation with Senior Editor Sabika Abbas Naqvi. SHARE Facebook ↗ Twitter ↗ LinkedIn ↗ ALSO IN THIS ISSUE: AUTHOR Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 AUTHOR Heading 5 Interview Feminist Art Practice Feminist Organizing Mural Public Space Art Practice Public Arts Fearless Collective Fearless Arts Residency Art Activism Fundraising Future Dream Spaces Queerness Queer Spaces Trans Politics Trans Community Wheat Pasting Sri Lanka Pakistan India Internationalist Solidarity Khwaja Siras Bubbli Malik Queer Muslim Project Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. DISPATCH Interview Feminist Art Practice 29th Nov 2020 One of our murals in Rawalpindi, is an image of a [khwaja sira], Bubbli Malik, on a bicycle, and she says "I am a creation of Allah." The mural refers not to violence or trauma, but is a radical affirmation of the [khwaja sira] community. Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Next Up:

As Sino-Indian tensions rise in the new Indian Union territory of Ladakh at the Line of Actual Control, Ladakhi craftswomen like Sonam Dolma are returning to Kashmir to sell their authentic pashmina shawls. | · THE VERTICAL Reportage · Ladakh The Artisan Labor Crisis of Ladakh As Sino-Indian tensions rise in the new Indian Union territory of Ladakh at the Line of Actual Control, Ladakhi craftswomen like Sonam Dolma are returning to Kashmir to sell their authentic pashmina shawls. A landscape view of Ladakh. Dolma's homeland now facing the heat of the lurking dragon. Courtesy of Masroor Khan. In the upscale neighborhood of Rajbagh in Srinagar, Sonam Dolma awaits a high-stakes meeting at an eatery amidst Kashmiri portraits and vintage décor. Her Ladakhi tribe’s prized Pashmina shawls made of fine Kashmiri cashmere are sought after by Kashmir’s elite who eschew mass-produced replicas for craftsmanship. In the quiet corner of the café, away from the bustling streets, Dolma prepares to showcase her wares to discerning clients—wives of bureaucrats and businessmen—who value quality and authenticity above all else. Just miles away from this serene scene lies a neighborhood scarred by floods, where Dolma’s tribe finds refuge after their daily trade expeditions. Despite this contrast, these Ladakhi women navigate Kashmir’s high society with grace, armed with exquisite products and a commitment to purity in a world of imitations. The group’s trade trips to Kashmir have become recurrent ever since Chinese troops showed up at their homeland’s hinterland in May 2020. Oblivious to the standoff at the Line of Actual Control (LAC) where Beijing has grown its military presence, the women are making their rounds of the posh localities of Srinagar with shawls in hand. This internal drive for living has come just five years after New Delhi stripped the semi-autonomous status of Jammu and Kashmir. Their homeland is a new spark plug in South Asia; they live in a constant state of fear. In fact, the rise of the new front—LAC—has already proven deadly. In a military standoff, Sino-India troops have suffered casualties . But beyond these border games, Beijing has forced new orders and routines compelling the Ladakhi craftswomen to return to estranged Kashmir. These young women frequent the fraught region of the valley for sustenance. Prior to their recent visits as mobile merchants, they would mostly feel at home in Kashmir. But everything changed when New Delhi sliced Ladakh from Kashmir in a cartographic attempt to redefine the contested land in the summer of 2019. Carving a union territory out of the United Nations’ registered disputed region eventually proved costly for the government of India. It provoked China—now the ominous third party of what New Delhi calls a “bilateral issue” between India and Pakistan. However, beyond Beijing’s belligerence, the decision to make Ladakh a federal entity has far-reaching consequences for the cashmere brand and its craftspeople. With China’s People’s Liberation Army (PLA) occupying the winter mainstay of the Pashmina goats in Ladakh, cashmere is losing its source of thread. Ladakh’s Changthang area—the land of nomads located in the east of Leh on the Chinese border—has long been a breeding ground for the Pashmina goats. The severe temperature of the area, the experts say, makes the Pashmina thread of Changthang very thin, which in turn makes these goats the source of the finest cashmere in the world. The Chinese incursions have now made it a literal no-go zone for the nomads rearing these goats. Although China is showing no signs of retreat, the military occupation has created an existential crisis for the native animal and has raised serious concerns around the globe. The nomads are reporting increasing numbers of goat deaths. These deaths—due to the occupied winter habitat of Pashmina goats—have cast shadows on the global brand. In the main towns of Leh, the Pashmina dealers are linking the supply slump to the rise of China in Ladakh. Despite the dilemma, the cashmere craftspeople are banking on their old ties with the valley. In the larger din emanating from the LAC, their Kashmir move has become symbolic. While New Delhi has separated them from Kashmir in this territorial juggling, Beijing has reunited them . New anxieties are on the rise, however, as the processing of Pashmina may be shifted out of Kashmir to Uttar Pradesh by the Indian authorities, a move that may create an impact on the cashmere wool industry. Faced with diminishing income and mounting unpredictability, Dolma made the difficult decision to seek refuge in Kashmir. At noon when most of the citizenry works, she arrives to strike some profitable exchanges. Dolma on her way to a Srinagar neighbourhood where she sells her stuff to customers. Courtesy of Mir Seeneen. Dolma tells me how she was born into a family of weavers in a small village 260 miles from Ladakh’s capital, Leh. She learned the art of crafting Pashmina shawls from her grandmother, who in teaching her, passed down centuries-old techniques. Dolma reflects on the journey: “The foreign incursions into Ladakh forced me to confront the fragility of life, to adapt, and evolve.” But the looming specter and uncertainty brought by a massive troop build-up, cast a dark shadow over Dolma’s once-peaceful existence. “We spend months preparing the handicraft stuff before arriving in Srinagar for work," she says. For Dolma, these rendezvous in serene corners of the city held significance beyond mere transactions. She was not just selling shawls—she was preserving a legacy, a tradition that had been passed down through generations. In a market flooded with facsimiles, she was a purveyor of authenticity, valued for her discerning eye and commitment to quality. Away from Ladakh, Dolma considers Kashmir the second home for Ladakhi entrepreneurs like herself. This Himalayan region is their main economic link to the rest of the world, aside from being the preferable market for their indigenous products. During the post-Covid distressed times, they counted on Kashmir’s booming domestic tourism. “Kashmir has never disappointed us,” says Tenzin, another Pashmina seller from Ladakh. “But somewhere down the line, the region’s uncertainty reminds us of our home now. It was a peaceful land before they changed its status in the summer of 2019.” The demand for a separate entity—a union territory—was a longstanding political cry in Ladakh, mostly from the members of the ruling mainstream party. The campaign gained steam after the political party swept the regional polls. Experts feared that slicing Ladakh from Kashmir would alter the course of the disputed land. But in the run-up to August 2019, when campaigns against Article 370 became fierce, Ladakh witnessed a political wave culminating in its new territorial identity. Lately, the process in Kargil has intensified with shutdowns of demand for statehood ; even the famed climate activist Sonam Wangchuk went on a 21-day hunger strike . With the altered political reality, most of these women are now anxious about the war frenzy created by the armies in their homeland. They realize how the militarization was triggered by the summer shift—when New Delhi justified the abrogation of Article 370 as a move “to end discrimination” with Ladakh and its people. But the unilateral decision backfired when the Chinese army showed up at the LAC and clashed with Indian forces. Since then the skirmishes have stopped, but the boots remain on the ground . While the border brouhaha has given Ladakh global coverage in recent times, these girls have become weary of the hyper-media attention. Like their Kashmiri counterparts, they don’t make peace with the pugnacious news debates focusing on their homeland. The mainland television media’s so-called war bulletins have only heightened tensions. What’s further creating a false sense of alarm is New Delhi’s dithering response to the LAC situation. The region has now become a new strategic zone forcing the right-wing government to build a fair-weather highway connecting Leh with Srinagar that opened this past winter. The snowbound thoroughfare used to be cut-off for six months. But now, the Indian government’s urge to keep an unflinching eye on the PLA has put men at work during extreme conditions, including the construction of a tunnel connecting Ladakh with Kashmir. Still, these young Ladakhi women see hope in Kashmir where their products are quite popular among the urban elites. However, if the status quo isn’t restored at the LAC anytime soon, these Pashmina girls of Ladakh fear losing cashmere to Chinese aggression. In the wake of this militarized uncertainty, some of the girls believe their visits to Kashmir, this estranged part of India, might alleviate their financial situation. “Life is tough back home,” continues Tenzin, while waiting for her client inside the cafeteria, and uncertainty has only escalated after the recent border tensions between India and China. Away from Ladakh, these girls share rent, rage, and respite in Srinagar before heading back home with seasonal earnings. “Most of us belong to poor families,” Tenzin continues with a thoughtful stance. “For us, our families come first. But it’s very hard to stay focused amid the changed reality now. Be it troop build-up or frontier tensions, the sense of normalcy has taken a big hit. Regardless of everything, Kashmir is the same to us as it used to be when the people of Ladakh were part of it,” she says. “Sadly, for some of us, a sense of estrangement has come to define this relationship now. And the change is there to see.” Padma Tsering, a quintessential Ladakhi woman in her early thirties from Nyoma, has been selling Pashmina in Kashmir for the past couple of years. “We’ve cultivated our customer base in Kashmir and rely on them for our livelihood,” she says. Despite their limited political awareness, Ladakhi girls like Tsering find hope in Kashmir. “There’s a sense of security Kashmir offers despite the surrounding tensions,” says Phuntsok Wangmo, another Pashmina seller from Ladakh. “It’s our preferred market with loyal customers, even during post-Covid times.” Dolma showcases her shawls in Srinagar during a business meeting with her client. Courtesy of Mir Seeneen. Meanwhile, Dolma’s wait ends as Sadaf Khan, a young Kashmiri woman, arrives at the café. Khan expresses interest in buying shawls from the weaver. “My cousin recommended Dolma to me and vouched for the quality of the shawls,” says Khan. The café comes alive with the buzz of business, some chatter, and laughter. After bidding farewell to her client, Dolma steps out into the busy thoroughfares of the city; walking home reflectively after another successful trade. ∎ SUB-HEAD Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Reportage Ladakh Srinagar Kashmir Sino-Indian Relations China India Geopolitics Indian Union Article 370 Line of Actual Control People’s Liberation Army Changthang Labor Craftsmanship Artisans Indigeneity Settler-Colonialism Displacement Statehood Military Operations Police Action Sonam Dolma Militarization Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. 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“No, the madness in our home, like the rest of this country, lies in our search for a strongman. In our home, no man is strong enough.” “No, the madness in our home, like the rest of this country, lies in our search for a strongman. In our home, no man is strong enough.” The Lucky Ones: A Memoir by Zara Chowdhary (Crown, July 2024). Cover design and illustration by Arsh Raziuddin. Artist · BOOKS & ARTS REPORTAGE · LOCATION How to Grow Flowers in a Bedroom LOCATION AUTHOR . AUTHOR . AUTHOR . 19 Oct 2024 th . Letter from our columnist . By the end of March, there is no place to breathe in C-8. Papa has forbidden us from standing by the windows. He monitors how long we stand on the balcony, whom we look at, what we’re thinking. Inside, it feels like all air is finite. We’re trampling over one another for space to think, to be. Our silences have gone up our nostrils, come out our mouths, run out the door into the elevator, and fled. Our words now dance on the riverbed, mocking us from afar. We will never be free. Every room in this home is tainted by violence. Papa and Amma’s dark bedroom with its single small window, the kitchen with its deep sink and cloistered shelves, the laundry room, where I hide and write in a diary, the mori or dishwashing bathroom behind the kitchen, where only Gulshan is sent to clean our muck, Dadi’s room, with a view of the street but also Dadi’s fuming mouth. My parents’ room was where Misba and I hid each night during drinking time. We would hear loud, animated conversation outside—glasses chinking, something crude said, some laughter. Then the voices would always grow louder, angrier. Something would be thrown, something smashed. Then Papa would storm off to the bathroom. The door would be slammed. A moment of quiet. In my earliest memory of a night like this, when I was barely three, Amma came rushing into the bedroom, Phupu close behind her. “Rukhsi! Don’t just walk away . . .” Amma turned to close the door on her. “Zahida apa, please. Please.” Her voice wobbled. “Just please let me be.” She came around and sat at the edge of the bed. There, sitting a couple feet from my mother, I felt it for the first time: my mother’s burden shifting, growing, moving restlessly inside her, welling up in her wide, honey-colored eyes. But Amma squeezed her eyes shut and pushed it back in. I remember inching closer to Amma, placing tiny hands on her hunched shoulders, attempting an awkward hug. I remember Amma taking my tiny palms and shaking me off like a wet leaf stuck to her clothes. “Please Zara. Leave me alone.” I felt my own burden sprout, a tiny seed of helplessness. “Kidhar hai Rukhsi?” I remember my father slurring, demanding to be told where his wife was hiding. Please don’t tell him, Phupu, I prayed in this, the worst game of hide-and-seek ever. I remember Phupu’s deadpan voice telling him. I remember how he threw the door open, exploded into the room. “Bitch. Come back outside!” Then I remember Papa’s eyes accidentally meeting mine instead of hers, ready to fire, locked on a target. My eyes are wide and big like hers but dark like his. And yet for the first time I see my twinkle-eyed, smiling father—who tickled me till I collapsed giggling, who scratched my knee till I fell asleep—towering over me from the foot of the bed, glaring at me and seeing not his daughter but a limb that has grown from this woman. A part of her. He spits. “Do your drama. Brainwash the girl against me.” He rumbles, his mountain body barely holding back its rage. I sit there frozen between these two. The woman who won’t let me touch her, the man whom I dare not approach. All I want to whimper is I love you both . I remember Amma finally shaking out of her trance, then standing up and walking out of the room, hoping to draw the fire away, to spare me. I remember Papa turning to look at me one last time, hate in his eyes slowly melting into inebriated confusion. The fire and its first victim walked away. I remember Amma coming back later that night to call us to dinner. “Come on, girls,” she says in that shaky voice, not letting me look into her eyes anymore. When I hesitate to leave the safety of the bed and go out where the plates will tremor like me, she looks at me with complete emptiness. There is no love there, no joy, no life, only exhaustion. “Please, Zara,” she repeats. I quietly, guiltily get off the bed and follow her. I know then that there is no running, no saving myself. I can never leave. Not without my amma. “Arre, no two states of this country can stand each other. Everyone is fighting over food or language or rivers. We have four in this house!” we learn to say, trying to normalize or exoticize our home’s dysfunction for ourselves. It’s true. Dada is from Punjab in the North. Dadi is Gujarati. Amma’s mother is from the mango coast of western India. Her dead father is from the South. We blame the diversity for the disturbance. Too many stories in collision with one another, no shared tongue. But it’s also very not-true. Amma said yes to this marriage dreaming she’d learn to dance the garba, a dance she’d always marveled at from a thousand miles away. Phupu can cook herself any cuisine in the world, but she rushes to the table first when Amma is frying dosas. Dadi hates the mention of Dada’s family in Pakistan’s Punjab, but she pushes Misba and me to dance in front of the guests to every Punjabi bhangra song played at weddings we attend. “Tumhaare khoon mein hai yeh,” she reminds us. It is all in our blood. Amma and Baby Zara. Courtesy of the author. No, the madness in our home, like the rest of this country, lies in our search for a strongman. In our home, no man is strong enough. Dada is haunted by how he failed. Papa withers under the burden of his own mistakes. The women become dictators when they become divorced or widowed. There is no room in C-8 Jasmine for grace. So we huddle in Amma’s bedroom each night, telling each other stories, making up imaginary ones in which we live in forests by little streams, just Amma, Misba, and I. There is a tape deck in the room, a wedding present for Papa and Amma from his friends the Reddys. It’s his prized possession. Papa takes us every Friday to Law Garden, where in the evenings a man sells pirated and original audiotapes from the back of a converted Tempo Traveller: albums of every new and old Bollywood movie, as well as collections of ghazals, devotional Sufi and bhakti music. Papa never buys pirated. They will spoil his deck. If ever his purchases turn out to be fakes and the tape spools out and jams the player, he goes back and fights with the tape walla, calls him a dozen names. And then buys three more tapes. He buys Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan for himself. Some mornings he plays it after his shower and raises his hands and hums “Allah Hu, Allah Hu” as if temporarily possessed, energized, tentatively tethered to a faith he doesn’t understand. This is the only grace I see. I watch him, his soft beer belly rising and falling, the depression dropping away like the seams of his semitransparent cotton kurta suspended around his heaviness. Since the riots started, he hasn’t played it. But one Sunday, bored out of his mind, he opens the deck up and cleans the head with cotton swabs and Dada’s eau de cologne. When Misba and I shut the door of Amma’s bedroom that evening, we look at each other conspiratorially. We switch on the tape deck and allow ourselves the same grace. Grace is the only language Misba and I know to speak in. It has been our shared tongue as sisters since before we ever learned how to talk. We don’t yet know what it means to save each other, but we know something happens when we dance. We feel redeemed. We have done this each evening from the moment we started to walk, from the moment we recognized our world burned like clockwork each evening. We insert our favorite tapes one after another, hits from 2001: Lagaan, Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham, Dil Chahta Hai, Aks, Lajja, Nayak, Pyaar Tune Kya Kiya, Zubeidaa . We haven’t watched all the movies. Papa takes us to the theater only for the big ones. But song after song we go, moving and making the movie with our bodies. Through the moods and bhavas and rasas of each song, we make up steps and build facial expressions, we construct entire lives and love stories filled with heartbreak and mischief and sublime joy. Amma slips into the room in between dinner preparations to watch us. A few times, Dadi and Phupu peep inside too. Apa sits on the bed, arms folded, her grim mouth slackening into a smile. There is nothing to dance about right now. But in C-8 Jasmine, there seldom is. Dance is the only way Misba and I know to transcend this reality. When Amma comes in to watch, I watch her back, as she leans her tired body against the linen closet, her smile building from her thick lips to her honey eyes. Soon she’s clapping with our every shimmy and shake. She lets out a soft hoot. This is all she can do. Dance is teaching us what she can’t, mustn’t. That we have power. That as long as we have each other, our souls will be okay. She watches us bloom amid all this smoke, gracefully stretching into life, grateful we are hers, thankful we are alive. ∎ Excerpted from The Lucky Ones: A Memoir by Zara Chowdhary (Crown, July 2024). SUB-HEAD Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. 1 Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. 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JOURNALIST Irene Benedicto IRENE BENEDICTO is an investigative and data reporter with ten years of experience working as a journalist. She has covered breaking news and written in-depth long-form stories, local and international news from eight different countries on three continents, including the political hubs of Washington DC and Brussels, and three investigative data projects on migration, public health, and social inequities. JOURNALIST WEBSITE INSTAGRAM TWITTER Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 LOAD MORE

Trade unions are the most potent stopgap against Javier Milei, an outlandish avatar of Argentina's Faustian bargain with the far-right. But Argentina is poised on the razor’s edge: outside of brutal crackdowns or Milei losing his voting base, there are few foreseeable outcomes for the working class in impoverished Argentina. THE VERTICAL Buenos Aires, Shuttered Trade unions are the most potent stopgap against Javier Milei, an outlandish avatar of Argentina's Faustian bargain with the far-right. But Argentina is poised on the razor’s edge: outside of brutal crackdowns or Milei losing his voting base, there are few foreseeable outcomes for the working class in impoverished Argentina. María Constanza Costa On January 24, in a city with many of its stores and banks closed, there was a suffocating heat. In the blocks surrounding the National Congress, Buenos Aires witnessed the first general strike in the country in seven years. Workers in columns with their flags came from all over to reject the measures of the government that took office a little over a month ago. This scene was soon replicated in the main cities throughout the country. In front of the steps of the Congress, Pablo Moyano, Truckers union leader and co-chairman of the trade union federation known as the General Confederation of Labor ( Confederación General del Trabajo or CGT), spoke to a square full of workers who were raising their voices against the proposed austerity policies by the government. "We ask the deputies to have dignity and principles,” Moyano said. “We ask them not to betray the workers, the doctrine of Peronism, which is to defend the workers, the poor, and the pensioners." Moyano condemned the decreed privatization of state corporations such as Aerolíneas Argentinas (National Flag Carrier), Télam (News Agency), Banco Nación (National Bank), and Radio Nacional (Public Radio). He accused them of leaving “millions of workers on the streets and handing them over to their friends [the private corporations].” CGT organized its first strike just 45 days into Javier Milei's regime under the slogan "The homeland is not for sale". The strike protested the state reforms and the deregulation of the economy, including sweeping labor changes, the end of severance pay, the extension of employment trial periods from three to eight months, and the privatization of state-owned companies. The sweeping reforms included a massive presidential executive order and a 523-article bill , the Omnibus Bill, that has been hotly debated in Congress for months but passed in April. Milei’s ruling coalition, La Libertad Avanza , wrangled a majority opinion on the bill by eliminating many of its original articles, including the privatization of the national bank, with the support of right-wing and center-right parties. But in a country in a deep economic crisis , with the highest annual inflation rate in the world (almost 300%), with 40% of the population now under the poverty line, and a near-collapse of industrial production, the toll the austerity measures have taken on Argentines is immense, and Milei’s policies are still far too punishing, especially those concerning the privatization of public agencies. The Omnibus Bill is on track for a contentious fight in the Senate next week . Over the past few months, unions from all over Latin America and Europe marched in support of the strike such as the Unitary Central of Workers of Chile and the Brazilian Unified Workers' Central . The Worldwide Unions' Federation , which groups unions in 133 countries, called its affiliates to show solidarity with Argentina's workers. This past Thursday, on May 9th, the CGT, the Argentine Workers' Central Union (CTA), and the Autonomous CTA carried out the second general strike against Milei’s austerity policies since January, after the passage of the Omnibus Bill in the lower house. Hundreds of flights were canceled. Bus, rail, subway systems were all halted. Banks and schools were shuttered. Industrial production was at a standstill. The streets outside of the demonstration on 9th May 2024. (Official CGT statement). Buenos Aires, a city with a metropolitan population of 15.6 million people, was as empty as it would be on a holiday. The CGT represents trucker unions, health personnel, aeronautics, and construction. They were joined in the strike by informal workers, pensioners, and the state´s workers unions–the main sectors affected by these austerity measures. In January, Rodolfo Aguiar, Secretary General of the State Workers Association of Argentina (ATE), entering the Plaza de los Dos Congresos along Avenida de Mayo, spoke to SAAG and argued that the government's main victims are those who are publicly employed. “We, the state workers, bother those who want to appropriate the State to put it at the service of global corporations.” Milei's anti-state and austerity policies have caused changes in the national administration. As of April, over 15,000 state workers had been fired. In order to discourage participation in the demonstration, on January 18th the presidential spokesman, Manuel Adorni, announced the deduction of pay for any state workers who participate in the strike (the same threat was repeated on May 9th). The move backfired. The political opposition party also participated in the demonstration. Axel Kicillof, the governor of the province of Buenos Aires, the most important in the country, attended the march. Kicillof is representative of the left wing of Peronism—a camp often considered as best positioned to be the political heir of Kirchnerism. Albeit with a different call than that of the CGT, the leftist Party of Social Workers (PTS), which has four deputies in Congress, also participated in the mobilization. “There was a strike in many places, but the most important thing was the mobilization. The government wants to downplay it, but the participation in the streets was very high,” said Myriam Bregman, congresswoman and former presidential candidate of the leftist coalition Workers’ Left Front , in a statement outside Congress. According to the CGT, one and a half million people joined the strike throughout the country in January, while 600,000 were part of the epicenter of the march in the city of Buenos Aires. The government says that only 40,000 people were mobilized. It remains to be seen what numbers will be used to describe the most recent strike. The Criminalization of Protest With the election of Javier Milei, the far-right has come into power in Argentina for the first time since the recovery of democracy in 1983. Milei is bombastic, a self-described “anarcho-libertarian.” In a broad sense, he evokes a contemporary authoritarian ruler in the vein of Donald Trump or Jair Bolsonaro. In Argentina, this means that Milei espouses a classically liberal view of the free market, as well as a sharp rollback of welfare reforms. He also cuts an incendiary figure in more outlandish ways. He has argued for the privatization of everything from human organs to babies . Milei has also confessed that he talks to his dog Conan, who died 7 years ago, through an “interspecies medium.” Apparently Milei has been known to ask Conan, whom he has four living clones of, for political advice. But most consequential for Argentina is Milei’s strong affinity with the last military dictatorship: an ugly history rearing its head in a country that has been reeling from the damage for decades. Under the dictatorship, 30,000 people were tortured and/or disappeared . Approximately 500 children were ripped from their parents. The military dictatorship (1976-1983) carried out a policy of illegal repression, indiscriminate violence, persecutions, systematized torture, forced disappearance of people, clandestine detention centers, manipulation of information, and other forms of State terrorism. In addition, it contracted the largest foreign debt up to that time in Argentine history. Eventually, industrial production collapsed, leading to mass deindustrialization of the country during the following years. Having come to strength in the waning years of the last Peronist government, Milei’s political party was supported mainly by young men, many of whom voted for the first time in the last elections in October last year. During the toughest years of the pandemic, Milei characterized the center-left government as a "criminal infection." Milei represents, of course, much of what has always been anathema to Peronism. Under the broad political ideology of justicialismo , Peronism has a long history of leadership in Argentina. It has staunchly opposed the military dictatorships, and broadly supported Juan Perón's agenda of social justice, economic nationalism, state-led market intervention through subsidies, and international non-alignment. Trade unions in Argentina have long been considered the “spinal column” of Peronism. Milei came to the government accompanied by Victoria Villarruel, the vice president and an activist from the last military dictatorship. Villarruel denies the number of disappeared people and supports the controversial “theory of two demons,” equating left-wing killings with state terrorism, a theory of far-right which denies the genocide under the military dictatorship. Milei and Villaruel are the first president and vice president in Argentine democracy who have tried to relativize social condemnation against the crimes of the last military dictatorship (1976-1983) and state terrorism—breaking with the democratic consensus on the dictatorship’s crimes against humanity. Indeed, Milei's verbiage is similar to that of the military. For Milei, there was “a war” in the 1970s, in which “excesses” were committed. Of course, in reality it was an illegal systematic plan of extermination. More specifically, under Milei, “internal security” has become the state’s chief prerogative, involving policies denounced by human rights organizations and left-wing activists in Argentina. The president appointed Patricia Bullrich, a politician with a long and strange history in Argentina (originally part of the left, but ended up in the extreme right) to Minister of Security. Bullrich, in turn, came up with an anti-protest protocol that aims to criminalize protests and crackdown on demonstrations in the street. Bullrich’s protocol details the operation of the security forces in the event of disturbance of public order. The measures include sanctions on groups making such demonstrations. The sanctions include detention or a payment of fines, as well as the withdrawal of benefits for those who are beneficiaries of social security. Despite the implementation of the protocol, the mobilization on the street was massive and successful. That the unions can and have brought the capital to a standstill is a fundamental challenge to Milei: few options are imaginable, save brutal crackdowns, or an erosion of Milei's support. In recent months, leftist groups demonstrating against the Omnibus bill in front of Congress have been brutally repressed. Police have fired rubber bullets, tear gas, and water cannons to disperse protests, which have by now become everyday occurrences. Protests have challenged Milei's government ever since he took office. Ten days after he was inaugurated, he was confronted with a spontaneous cacerolazo (a form of protest by hitting pots) against the devaluation and the increase in prices. After the first cacerolazo, the president gave an interview on radio , where he made a statement that "there may be people who suffer from Stockholm syndrome." "They are embracing the model that impoverishes them, but that is not the case for the majority of Argentina," he said. Of course, there is also a very large portion of Argentines who support the far-right government, in the hopes that it can be successful in Argentina, especially in the macroeconomy in order to stop inflation. Critics of this “pragmatist” viewpoint point continually to IMF stipulations and the devastating impacts that austerity policies have had many times in the past. But in truth, Milei’s voting base is part and parcel of a larger political drift in Argentina. The Rightward Drift How is it that a country like Argentina, one with a long tradition of social and labor rights, has elected a president who seeks to abolish so much of what its citizens have come to know? In the simplest analysis, much blame lies with the previous administration, in the hands of the largest Peronist party, the Partido Justicialista or PJ. Under President Alberto Fernandez and Vice President Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner, the administration failed to stem inflation and thus recover the purchasing power of wages–a crisis that modest wage increases were insufficient to mitigate. The frustration caused by the economic crisis led citizens towards the neoliberal parties, plunging the left into demoralization and uncertainty. The years under the presidency first Néstor Kirchner (2003-2007) and subsequently his wife, Cristina Kirchner (2007-2015), have long been known as the years of the “progressive wave” in Latin America, a historical period that is often characterized by leftist leaders in the region including Lula da Silva in Brazil, Hugo Chávez in Venezuela, and Evo Morales in Bolivia. The progressive wave is often associated with a strong expansion of rights and an improvement in employment and social coverage. During the years of Kirchnerism, Argentina became a pioneer of socially progressive policies in Latin America. It became the first country in the region and the tenth in the world to allow same-sex marriage in 2010 . Two years later, it passed the Gender Identity Law, allowing transgendered people to register their documents with the name and sex of their choice. In 2013, Cristina Kirchner enacted a new law that punishes child labor and another that seeks to regularize the situation of more than a million domestic employees, the majority of whom work informally. Kirchnerism, at the time, also presided over low unemployment rates. When Néstor Kirchner took office in 2003, the country was overcoming one of its worst economic crises in history, and more than 17% of Argentines were unemployed. Kirchnerism managed to reduce that figure to less than 7%, according to data from the National Institute of Statistics and Censuses about 6 million jobs were created during the K era. The economic growth was promoted, especially, by the gains of productive capital in the heat of the significant rise in real wages, the increase in external competitiveness derived from the establishment of a high exchange rate, the phenomenal increase in the prices of agricultural commodities, and through the labor value of skilled workers who were unemployed during the long recession at the turn of the century. Thus, redistributive policies were an essential component of strategies for reducing inequality in both economic and social realms. Kirchnerism remained the main wing within Peronism, under the leadership of Cristina Kirchner and managed to return to the government in 2019; the expectation was that it would be able to overcome the economic crisis left by the government of Mauricio Macri (2015-2019), one with hefty external debt with the IMF and a weak economy. Despite the economic crisis, the Peronist government of Alberto Fernandez continued with public works and maintained subsidies for energy and transportation. It also maintained the various social programs that have been promoted to support the most vulnerable sectors. The exit from the pandemic and the prolonged confinement, added to the scandal of the leak of a photo showing the first lady and a group of people, including the president, celebrating her birthday at the presidential residence, during confinement. This leak concentrated the fury of a middle class that had seen its level of income increasingly deteriorate and strengthened “anti-caste” sentiment (“caste,” in Milei’s personal parlance, refers to career politicians, equivalent to the “deep state”). Milei on the Razor’s Edge Notably, even before the recent passage of the Omnibus bill in the lower house, Argentina´s lower house approved the bill in a 144-109 vote on February 3rd. La libertad Avanza has only 38 deputies in the lower house. In February, the main opposition party, Unión por la Patria , a Peronist alliance composed mainly of Kirchnerists, voted against the bill, with their deputies sitting in the session with banners saying “May it NOT become the law!” The leftist Frente de Izquierda y de los Trabajadores, Unidad (FIT-U), also rejected the bill. Following the general vote on February 6th, the omnibus bill was sent back to the commissions over lack of support. The main disagreements were privatizations and federal taxes. The government did not achieve the support of governors whom Milei accused of being traitors and threatened to defund. But between then and April, it was been speculated that Milei is beginning to wise up: giving up some campaign promises to ram through his reforms. At least with the lower house thus far, he has succeeded. Ahead of the Senate battle, Milei remains at a crossroads: whether to continue betting on his anti-caste discourse, accusing the opposition that was willing to support him of being traitors and criminals, or sit down to negotiate and make concessions and understand that the Argentine political system is sustained based on negotiations between the national government and the provinces. But even if the Omnibus Bill now succeeds in the Senate, even in its milder form, it is unlikely to satisfy the unions. Back in February, the bill may have been destroyed in the “palace” but it was first put in check on the street. Indeed, it seems Milei will keep facing down the unions, which are now arguably the most potent force challenging him, not the opposition parties. “A new strike or mobilization is not ruled out,” Moyano had said on March 8th. “But it is latent. It will always be latent. If your worker's rights are attacked, if you lose your job, if your salaries are lowered... I am not going to stand by and no union or leader is going to allow them to fire their workers.” When the CGT did carry out the second general strike , it did so with high compliance, alongside labor across the country including unions representing public transport. But not before thousands of layoffs, subsidy eliminations, wage slashes and pension cuts crippled the working class of Argentina. According to the CGT, the general strike on Thursday was "forceful" and it demanded that the Government “take note.” For the CTA , the strike was the result of "a government that only benefits the rich at the expense of the people, gives away natural resources, and seeks to eliminate workers' rights.” But the real question is: have the events of this year shifted the needle for Milei’s voting base? ∎ On January 24, in a city with many of its stores and banks closed, there was a suffocating heat. In the blocks surrounding the National Congress, Buenos Aires witnessed the first general strike in the country in seven years. Workers in columns with their flags came from all over to reject the measures of the government that took office a little over a month ago. This scene was soon replicated in the main cities throughout the country. In front of the steps of the Congress, Pablo Moyano, Truckers union leader and co-chairman of the trade union federation known as the General Confederation of Labor ( Confederación General del Trabajo or CGT), spoke to a square full of workers who were raising their voices against the proposed austerity policies by the government. "We ask the deputies to have dignity and principles,” Moyano said. “We ask them not to betray the workers, the doctrine of Peronism, which is to defend the workers, the poor, and the pensioners." Moyano condemned the decreed privatization of state corporations such as Aerolíneas Argentinas (National Flag Carrier), Télam (News Agency), Banco Nación (National Bank), and Radio Nacional (Public Radio). He accused them of leaving “millions of workers on the streets and handing them over to their friends [the private corporations].” CGT organized its first strike just 45 days into Javier Milei's regime under the slogan "The homeland is not for sale". The strike protested the state reforms and the deregulation of the economy, including sweeping labor changes, the end of severance pay, the extension of employment trial periods from three to eight months, and the privatization of state-owned companies. The sweeping reforms included a massive presidential executive order and a 523-article bill , the Omnibus Bill, that has been hotly debated in Congress for months but passed in April. Milei’s ruling coalition, La Libertad Avanza , wrangled a majority opinion on the bill by eliminating many of its original articles, including the privatization of the national bank, with the support of right-wing and center-right parties. But in a country in a deep economic crisis , with the highest annual inflation rate in the world (almost 300%), with 40% of the population now under the poverty line, and a near-collapse of industrial production, the toll the austerity measures have taken on Argentines is immense, and Milei’s policies are still far too punishing, especially those concerning the privatization of public agencies. The Omnibus Bill is on track for a contentious fight in the Senate next week . Over the past few months, unions from all over Latin America and Europe marched in support of the strike such as the Unitary Central of Workers of Chile and the Brazilian Unified Workers' Central . The Worldwide Unions' Federation , which groups unions in 133 countries, called its affiliates to show solidarity with Argentina's workers. This past Thursday, on May 9th, the CGT, the Argentine Workers' Central Union (CTA), and the Autonomous CTA carried out the second general strike against Milei’s austerity policies since January, after the passage of the Omnibus Bill in the lower house. Hundreds of flights were canceled. Bus, rail, subway systems were all halted. Banks and schools were shuttered. Industrial production was at a standstill. The streets outside of the demonstration on 9th May 2024. (Official CGT statement). Buenos Aires, a city with a metropolitan population of 15.6 million people, was as empty as it would be on a holiday. The CGT represents trucker unions, health personnel, aeronautics, and construction. They were joined in the strike by informal workers, pensioners, and the state´s workers unions–the main sectors affected by these austerity measures. In January, Rodolfo Aguiar, Secretary General of the State Workers Association of Argentina (ATE), entering the Plaza de los Dos Congresos along Avenida de Mayo, spoke to SAAG and argued that the government's main victims are those who are publicly employed. “We, the state workers, bother those who want to appropriate the State to put it at the service of global corporations.” Milei's anti-state and austerity policies have caused changes in the national administration. As of April, over 15,000 state workers had been fired. In order to discourage participation in the demonstration, on January 18th the presidential spokesman, Manuel Adorni, announced the deduction of pay for any state workers who participate in the strike (the same threat was repeated on May 9th). The move backfired. The political opposition party also participated in the demonstration. Axel Kicillof, the governor of the province of Buenos Aires, the most important in the country, attended the march. Kicillof is representative of the left wing of Peronism—a camp often considered as best positioned to be the political heir of Kirchnerism. Albeit with a different call than that of the CGT, the leftist Party of Social Workers (PTS), which has four deputies in Congress, also participated in the mobilization. “There was a strike in many places, but the most important thing was the mobilization. The government wants to downplay it, but the participation in the streets was very high,” said Myriam Bregman, congresswoman and former presidential candidate of the leftist coalition Workers’ Left Front , in a statement outside Congress. According to the CGT, one and a half million people joined the strike throughout the country in January, while 600,000 were part of the epicenter of the march in the city of Buenos Aires. The government says that only 40,000 people were mobilized. It remains to be seen what numbers will be used to describe the most recent strike. The Criminalization of Protest With the election of Javier Milei, the far-right has come into power in Argentina for the first time since the recovery of democracy in 1983. Milei is bombastic, a self-described “anarcho-libertarian.” In a broad sense, he evokes a contemporary authoritarian ruler in the vein of Donald Trump or Jair Bolsonaro. In Argentina, this means that Milei espouses a classically liberal view of the free market, as well as a sharp rollback of welfare reforms. He also cuts an incendiary figure in more outlandish ways. He has argued for the privatization of everything from human organs to babies . Milei has also confessed that he talks to his dog Conan, who died 7 years ago, through an “interspecies medium.” Apparently Milei has been known to ask Conan, whom he has four living clones of, for political advice. But most consequential for Argentina is Milei’s strong affinity with the last military dictatorship: an ugly history rearing its head in a country that has been reeling from the damage for decades. Under the dictatorship, 30,000 people were tortured and/or disappeared . Approximately 500 children were ripped from their parents. The military dictatorship (1976-1983) carried out a policy of illegal repression, indiscriminate violence, persecutions, systematized torture, forced disappearance of people, clandestine detention centers, manipulation of information, and other forms of State terrorism. In addition, it contracted the largest foreign debt up to that time in Argentine history. Eventually, industrial production collapsed, leading to mass deindustrialization of the country during the following years. Having come to strength in the waning years of the last Peronist government, Milei’s political party was supported mainly by young men, many of whom voted for the first time in the last elections in October last year. During the toughest years of the pandemic, Milei characterized the center-left government as a "criminal infection." Milei represents, of course, much of what has always been anathema to Peronism. Under the broad political ideology of justicialismo , Peronism has a long history of leadership in Argentina. It has staunchly opposed the military dictatorships, and broadly supported Juan Perón's agenda of social justice, economic nationalism, state-led market intervention through subsidies, and international non-alignment. Trade unions in Argentina have long been considered the “spinal column” of Peronism. Milei came to the government accompanied by Victoria Villarruel, the vice president and an activist from the last military dictatorship. Villarruel denies the number of disappeared people and supports the controversial “theory of two demons,” equating left-wing killings with state terrorism, a theory of far-right which denies the genocide under the military dictatorship. Milei and Villaruel are the first president and vice president in Argentine democracy who have tried to relativize social condemnation against the crimes of the last military dictatorship (1976-1983) and state terrorism—breaking with the democratic consensus on the dictatorship’s crimes against humanity. Indeed, Milei's verbiage is similar to that of the military. For Milei, there was “a war” in the 1970s, in which “excesses” were committed. Of course, in reality it was an illegal systematic plan of extermination. More specifically, under Milei, “internal security” has become the state’s chief prerogative, involving policies denounced by human rights organizations and left-wing activists in Argentina. The president appointed Patricia Bullrich, a politician with a long and strange history in Argentina (originally part of the left, but ended up in the extreme right) to Minister of Security. Bullrich, in turn, came up with an anti-protest protocol that aims to criminalize protests and crackdown on demonstrations in the street. Bullrich’s protocol details the operation of the security forces in the event of disturbance of public order. The measures include sanctions on groups making such demonstrations. The sanctions include detention or a payment of fines, as well as the withdrawal of benefits for those who are beneficiaries of social security. Despite the implementation of the protocol, the mobilization on the street was massive and successful. That the unions can and have brought the capital to a standstill is a fundamental challenge to Milei: few options are imaginable, save brutal crackdowns, or an erosion of Milei's support. In recent months, leftist groups demonstrating against the Omnibus bill in front of Congress have been brutally repressed. Police have fired rubber bullets, tear gas, and water cannons to disperse protests, which have by now become everyday occurrences. Protests have challenged Milei's government ever since he took office. Ten days after he was inaugurated, he was confronted with a spontaneous cacerolazo (a form of protest by hitting pots) against the devaluation and the increase in prices. After the first cacerolazo, the president gave an interview on radio , where he made a statement that "there may be people who suffer from Stockholm syndrome." "They are embracing the model that impoverishes them, but that is not the case for the majority of Argentina," he said. Of course, there is also a very large portion of Argentines who support the far-right government, in the hopes that it can be successful in Argentina, especially in the macroeconomy in order to stop inflation. Critics of this “pragmatist” viewpoint point continually to IMF stipulations and the devastating impacts that austerity policies have had many times in the past. But in truth, Milei’s voting base is part and parcel of a larger political drift in Argentina. The Rightward Drift How is it that a country like Argentina, one with a long tradition of social and labor rights, has elected a president who seeks to abolish so much of what its citizens have come to know? In the simplest analysis, much blame lies with the previous administration, in the hands of the largest Peronist party, the Partido Justicialista or PJ. Under President Alberto Fernandez and Vice President Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner, the administration failed to stem inflation and thus recover the purchasing power of wages–a crisis that modest wage increases were insufficient to mitigate. The frustration caused by the economic crisis led citizens towards the neoliberal parties, plunging the left into demoralization and uncertainty. The years under the presidency first Néstor Kirchner (2003-2007) and subsequently his wife, Cristina Kirchner (2007-2015), have long been known as the years of the “progressive wave” in Latin America, a historical period that is often characterized by leftist leaders in the region including Lula da Silva in Brazil, Hugo Chávez in Venezuela, and Evo Morales in Bolivia. The progressive wave is often associated with a strong expansion of rights and an improvement in employment and social coverage. During the years of Kirchnerism, Argentina became a pioneer of socially progressive policies in Latin America. It became the first country in the region and the tenth in the world to allow same-sex marriage in 2010 . Two years later, it passed the Gender Identity Law, allowing transgendered people to register their documents with the name and sex of their choice. In 2013, Cristina Kirchner enacted a new law that punishes child labor and another that seeks to regularize the situation of more than a million domestic employees, the majority of whom work informally. Kirchnerism, at the time, also presided over low unemployment rates. When Néstor Kirchner took office in 2003, the country was overcoming one of its worst economic crises in history, and more than 17% of Argentines were unemployed. Kirchnerism managed to reduce that figure to less than 7%, according to data from the National Institute of Statistics and Censuses about 6 million jobs were created during the K era. The economic growth was promoted, especially, by the gains of productive capital in the heat of the significant rise in real wages, the increase in external competitiveness derived from the establishment of a high exchange rate, the phenomenal increase in the prices of agricultural commodities, and through the labor value of skilled workers who were unemployed during the long recession at the turn of the century. Thus, redistributive policies were an essential component of strategies for reducing inequality in both economic and social realms. Kirchnerism remained the main wing within Peronism, under the leadership of Cristina Kirchner and managed to return to the government in 2019; the expectation was that it would be able to overcome the economic crisis left by the government of Mauricio Macri (2015-2019), one with hefty external debt with the IMF and a weak economy. Despite the economic crisis, the Peronist government of Alberto Fernandez continued with public works and maintained subsidies for energy and transportation. It also maintained the various social programs that have been promoted to support the most vulnerable sectors. The exit from the pandemic and the prolonged confinement, added to the scandal of the leak of a photo showing the first lady and a group of people, including the president, celebrating her birthday at the presidential residence, during confinement. This leak concentrated the fury of a middle class that had seen its level of income increasingly deteriorate and strengthened “anti-caste” sentiment (“caste,” in Milei’s personal parlance, refers to career politicians, equivalent to the “deep state”). Milei on the Razor’s Edge Notably, even before the recent passage of the Omnibus bill in the lower house, Argentina´s lower house approved the bill in a 144-109 vote on February 3rd. La libertad Avanza has only 38 deputies in the lower house. In February, the main opposition party, Unión por la Patria , a Peronist alliance composed mainly of Kirchnerists, voted against the bill, with their deputies sitting in the session with banners saying “May it NOT become the law!” The leftist Frente de Izquierda y de los Trabajadores, Unidad (FIT-U), also rejected the bill. Following the general vote on February 6th, the omnibus bill was sent back to the commissions over lack of support. The main disagreements were privatizations and federal taxes. The government did not achieve the support of governors whom Milei accused of being traitors and threatened to defund. But between then and April, it was been speculated that Milei is beginning to wise up: giving up some campaign promises to ram through his reforms. At least with the lower house thus far, he has succeeded. Ahead of the Senate battle, Milei remains at a crossroads: whether to continue betting on his anti-caste discourse, accusing the opposition that was willing to support him of being traitors and criminals, or sit down to negotiate and make concessions and understand that the Argentine political system is sustained based on negotiations between the national government and the provinces. But even if the Omnibus Bill now succeeds in the Senate, even in its milder form, it is unlikely to satisfy the unions. Back in February, the bill may have been destroyed in the “palace” but it was first put in check on the street. Indeed, it seems Milei will keep facing down the unions, which are now arguably the most potent force challenging him, not the opposition parties. “A new strike or mobilization is not ruled out,” Moyano had said on March 8th. “But it is latent. It will always be latent. If your worker's rights are attacked, if you lose your job, if your salaries are lowered... I am not going to stand by and no union or leader is going to allow them to fire their workers.” When the CGT did carry out the second general strike , it did so with high compliance, alongside labor across the country including unions representing public transport. But not before thousands of layoffs, subsidy eliminations, wage slashes and pension cuts crippled the working class of Argentina. According to the CGT, the general strike on Thursday was "forceful" and it demanded that the Government “take note.” For the CTA , the strike was the result of "a government that only benefits the rich at the expense of the people, gives away natural resources, and seeks to eliminate workers' rights.” But the real question is: have the events of this year shifted the needle for Milei’s voting base? ∎ SUB-HEAD ALSO IN THIS ISSUE: Clare Patrick (Our) Worlds and (Plant) Wisdoms Kareen Adam · Nazish Chunara A Dhivehi Artists Showcase The second general strike this year happened this past Thursday on May 9th, bringing Buenos Aires to a standstill (photograph courtesy of Confederación General del Trabajo ). SHARE Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Reportage Argentina Trade Unions General Confederation of Labor Javier Milei Javier Milei Peronism Omnibus Bill La Libertad Avanza Austerity Economic Crisis Inflation Unemployment Poverty Unitary Central of Workers of Chile Brazilian Unified Workers' Central Worldwide Unions' Federation Kirchnerism Party of Social Workers Bolsonaro Military Dictatorship Free Market Welfare Cuts Privatization Justicialismo Juan Peron Cristina Kirchner Partido Justicialista Nestor Kirchner Progressive Wave in Latin America Pink Wave Labor Movement Labor Labor Rights MARÍA CONSTANZA COSTA is a political scientist, journalist, and Associate Professor in the Faculty of Social Sciences at the University of Buenos Aires (UBA). She is also a columnist for international news at Panamá Revista . 12 May 2024 Reportage Argentina 12th May 2024 The Citizen's Vote Jeevan Ravindran 16th Jul Expunging India's Diamond City Hanan Zaffar · Danish Pandit 2nd Apr Paean to Mother Nature Marissa Carruthers 25th Feb The Cost of Risk in Bombay’s Film Industry Nihira 5th Aug Whiplash and Contradiction in Sri Lanka’s aragalaya Harshana Rambukwella 27th Feb On That Note:

For decades, rural Peru has relied on journalists, human rights advocates, and indigenous organizers for protection from crossfire between state and vigilante militants that has weakened the region and enabled the growth of illicit trade activity. As indigenous Peruvians defend their land from exploitation and chemical damage in the service of the coca leaf industry, the government’s neglect of these native leaders’ efforts has led to their systemic and routine killing. For decades, rural Peru has relied on journalists, human rights advocates, and indigenous organizers for protection from crossfire between state and vigilante militants that has weakened the region and enabled the growth of illicit trade activity. As indigenous Peruvians defend their land from exploitation and chemical damage in the service of the coca leaf industry, the government’s neglect of these native leaders’ efforts has led to their systemic and routine killing. Photograph courtesy of Tania Wamani. Police repression against Andean Indigenous Quechua-speaking women from Puno occurred in the capital city, Lima, during the demonstration for justice for the civilian victims killed by the police during the protests in Puno in January 2023. Artist · THE VERTICAL REPORTAGE · LOCATION Lima's Forsaken LOCATION AUTHOR . AUTHOR . AUTHOR . 18 Nov 2024 th . Letter from our columnist . For 24 days , Mariano Isacama was missing. Calls to the indigenous leader’s phone suddenly stopped going through on June 21, following threats he had been receiving through WhatsApp messages. The 35-year-old was a spokesperson for the Puerto Azul community, which is part of the broader Kakataibo indigenous group in Peru’s Ucayali province. He worked with the Kakataibo federation, FENACOKA, one of many indigenous-led organizations across Peru that aims to provide self-governance for communities. Coworkers quickly filed complaints with the police and human rights prosecutors against people they suspected of involvement and launched search parties. Isacama, like many leaders in Peru’s native communities, was not facing abstract threats. In the past nine years, 35 indigenous leaders have been killed in the country amid threats from various organized criminal groups. Leaders face near constant harassment for their public positions defending the environment. Illicit trades have grown around these native communities, so leaders are routinely threatened to either turn a blind eye or participate. Almost none of the murder cases have led to arrests or support for impacted families and communities. What happened to Mariano Isacama “They had time to find him alive,” said Herlin Odicio, a Kakataibo leader who helped search for Isacama, incessantly filing complaints with the state for weeks. “Unfortunately the justice officials did nothing in that respect.” Odicio had been working with Isacama for a while. The two would attend conferences and workshops together, or if one couldn’t go, the other would represent the Kakataibo community. Isacama’s deep involvement with the work made him a target. On July 10, more than two weeks after his disappearance, 40 members of La Guardia Indígena’s Kakataibo division arrived to search. As an autonomous, fluid structure that has gained support among Latin America’s indigenous communities in the past two decades, La Guardia Indígena attempts to train communities to protect themselves in ways the governments won’t. They carry out patrols and build strategies to confront armed violence through collective and grassroots action. The volunteer program is neither a political body nor an armed resistance organization, but rather a loose mechanism that’s been adapted and replicated within communities across Latin America. Courtesy of Tania Wamani. In Ucayali, they put together teams to head into the woods to look for Isacama. While they were searching, threats to the search party themselves were reported from nearby non-native settlers. Isacama’s body was found on July 14, hidden away in the wilderness. “We’ve already identified suspects,” Odicio said, “We hope the justice system will do its duty, which we’ve pushed for. If they don’t, and they do the opposite, the justice system we have as indigenous people is going to be something very different.” Odicio himself has been facing threats for years, and lives on the run as a result. In 2020, he was approached by cocaine producers and asked to ignore planeloads of the drugs flown off makeshift runways on his community’s land. He rejected the money, making him a target. His continued advocacy work and public profile as an environmental defender further puts him at risk. He reports having to change his location constantly, moving his family between cities and homes, and routinely receiving threatening messages—even from other members of the community. “Emotionally, I’m not doing well,” he said, after four years of living under threat and reflecting on Isacama’s murder, “It’s complicated, you know? But what else can I do? Keep working, that’s it.” How militarism gave way to cartels In recent years, lethal threats facing Peru’s indigenous leaders have grown into a crisis as various illicit trades in the Amazon and Andean regions flourish under state negligence. Indigenous leaders, local journalists, and human rights researchers have all documented growing cases of cultivation and transportation of cocaine, illegal logging and mining , construction of unplanned roads that facilitate these extractive programs, and the violence and corruption necessary to keep these operations functional. These problems started several decades ago in the wake of a shifting political and economic reality within the country. Peru’s government spent decades centralizing its population and economic policies around the capital of Lima. Rural areas struggle under neglect across the country, but in the particularly remote indigenous communities in the country, this has evolved into a crisis. Ángel Pedro Valerio, president of the indigenous organization Central Ashaninka of Río Ene (CARE), noted that the problem has grown over the past 40 years. Valerio’s Ashaninka community is located in VRAEM, a region that’s become defined by cocaine production, poverty, and the presence of the Shining Path militant group. “Inside our communities, since the ‘80s and ‘90s and 2000s, the Ashaninka people and the entire central region of the rainforest have suffered from terrorism,” Valerio said. “Many of us have had family members disappeared or killed. This political and social problem hasn’t gone away.” During an era of violence between the Shining Path and the central government, areas like Valle de los Rios Apurimac, Ene y Mantaro (VRAEM) were particularly hard hit. They were caught in the crossfire between a communist group accused of brutal attacks on civilians (including children) and a military run by dictator Alberto Fujimori, who was later sentenced to 25 years in prison for human rights violations. Fujimori died on September 11, 2024, several months after being released from prison for medical reasons. In the 1980s and 1990s, Lima’s population exploded as the armed conflict drove people away from Peru’s provincial areas. According to official state inquiries , Fujimori’s government was responsible for hundreds of forced disappearances and executions, including the killing of journalists and children , all under the guise of fighting terrorism. Civilians in rural areas were the most at risk, so many fled to the capital . In 1993, Lima had six million residents. In 2024, the city’s population is about 11 million –nearly one-third of all Peruvians live there. In the aftermath, rural areas were broadly left without infrastructure or police presence, as all modernization efforts focused on the capital. While skyscrapers fill the wealthier neighborhoods of Lima, infrastructural basics characterize much of the rest of the country. A 2023 United Nations report highlighted how hundreds of thousands in Peru live without basic nutrition, education, and healthcare. Earlier this year, a report in Infobae showed that 92% of the country’s high schools lack basic resources. Courtesy of Tania Wamani. VRAEM, though, has become defined by poverty and neglect. It’s known to be the home of what’s left of the Shining Path. “In recent years, the presence of illegal coca leaf growers has grown exponentially,” Valerio said of VRAEM. “They’re coming to invade the territory of native communities and those of us who live there can’t do anything about it. They’re opening large farms and deforesting the area, contaminating the water and the environment, degrading the soil. These coca leaves take a lot of chemicals to grow.” He pointed out that each time his organization files a complaint about threats from narcotraffickers, the state refuses to take action. He adds that state inaction puts them at greater risk. “Many of our brothers mention that they can’t file complaints because if they do, the first thing that happens is more threats,” Valerio said. “They brand us snitches and send us a warning.” A prosecutor’s vision In Lima, the central prosecutor’s office attempted to address this problem after years of neglect. In late 2023, they announced funding secured through the European Union to launch three task forces or workshops which would oversee environmental crime, human trafficking, and assassinations of indigenous leaders. “These problems have certainly grown because of a lack of attention from the central government,” said Jorge Chavez Cotrina, who oversees the attorney general’s division on organized crime. “Because the problem isn’t just to fight organized crime through police and prosecutors and the courts, but also has to be addressed by the executive branch. That is to say, before taking corrective actions we also have to take administrative actions—as in, prevention is key.” Cotrina said the three teams are mainly focused on partnering with indigenous leaders and working on building trust in the state by sending more officers into the field, participating in training programs, and sponsoring events. He said they’ve dismantled organized crime networks and opened investigations into murder cases of indigenous people. He argued, however, that this work is complicated by the lack of funds the central government provides them, pointing out that of the $3 billion budget his office was officially granted, they’ve only been disbursed $80 million. As a result, he said, they lack staff, forensic equipment, judges, and the ability to reach native communities that are the most remote. On top of that, Cintora points out that the problems can’t simply be addressed through arrests, and that prevention must consider economic development and increased governmental presence in the area. The centralized perspective of the government can exacerbate the problem by creating easier conditions for organized crime to flourish. Late last year, Peru passed a so-called “anti-forest law” swiftly denounced by activists, indigenous organizations, and leading environmental groups. The SPDA, a Peruvian legal watchdog and environmental NGO, declared that the law would openly promote and legalize deforestation in the Amazon, while putting local agriculture and communities at risk. Their legal opinion showed that the country would be violating its own laws by allowing this through and ensuring Peru's failure to meet international commitments regarding climate protection. Courtesy of Tania Wamani. “The legislature definitely has put in place a series of regulations without knowing the reality,” Cintora said. “When someone writes a regulation from their desk without knowing the reality, these are normally well-intentioned. But when you explain to them the reality, it’s counterproductive. And that’s what’s happening with issues like deforestation, illegal mining and the environment…The idea instead should be to call upon the rural communities that can give their opinion on regulations that would affect their territories.” A balance in trust Leaders like Odicio and Valerio remain skeptical of the state. Cintora’s vision is to work alongside communities, so they begin to trust police and prosecutors with time. “Our job is to gain their trust,” Cintora said, “and through these task forces, we’re having many meetings with different communities in the Peruvian Amazon, and we are on the right track.” One case took prosecutors and police a decade to resolve . In 2014, in the small town of Saweto, four indigenous leaders were killed. The case didn’t go to trial until 2022, when the state eventually won convictions against four men they accused of being involved. In 2023, those cases were declared null by a regional judge. For many in Peru’s activist communities, this signaled an important lesson: even in the rare case that the state seeks a conviction in these murders, the courts can’t be trusted. Only in April 2024, did the case finally go to the Superior Court of Ucayali and the sentences were restored. Cintora saw the case as a win, as it affirms faith in the prosecutor’s office for native communities. Despite funding problems, he hopes that this kind of work can make a difference in restoring collaboration with these communities. “With the small amount of resources we have, we do what we can,” Cintora said, “because we can’t sit around crying that there’s no money.” ∎ SUB-HEAD Add paragraph text. 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Features Peru Lima Indigenous self-governance Ucayali Rural strategic underdevelopment VRAEM Valle de los Rios Apurimac Ene y Mantaro Shining Path Central Ashaninka of Río Ene Kakataibo Militarism Cartel Drugs Cocoa Plant Amazon Rainforest Andres Mountains Trade Route Illicit Trading Forced Disappearance Free Speech Militant Anti-Forest Law Journalism Execution Underdevelopment Development Filmmaking Photography Human Rights Activism NGO Agriculture Climate Change Deforestation Community Security Climate Security European Union Human Trafficking Assassination Whatsapp Puerto Azul Conflict Justice La Guardia Indigena Volunteer Program Latin America South America Protest Search Party Aviation Transportation Logging Mining Construction Violence Corruption Politics Economy Poverty Terrorism Disappearance State Sanctioned Violence Policing Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 6 On That Note:

Today's youngest Kenyans helmed the country's recent anti-tax protests: from creating a Finance Bill GPT, to organizing on X Space, to turning smartphones back into walkie talkies, their technology savvy helped facilitate a mass mobilization with a strength that President Ruto could demonize, but not deny. · THE VERTICAL Dispatch · Nairobi Today's youngest Kenyans helmed the country's recent anti-tax protests: from creating a Finance Bill GPT, to organizing on X Space, to turning smartphones back into walkie talkies, their technology savvy helped facilitate a mass mobilization with a strength that President Ruto could demonize, but not deny. Naomi Wanjiku Gakunga, Macakaya – Lamentations (2013-16). Painting on work-hardened builder's paper, sheet metal. Revolution X In June 2024, a video of Shadrack Kiprono getting forcefully pushed inside a white car outside an establishment in South B, Nairobi caused an uproar on the Kenyan internet. It was the first time people had visual evidence that vocal people in the #RejectFinanceBill anti-tax protests were being abducted. The abduction happened moments after Austin Omondi, a medic and a vocal X user who had been abducted at a makeshift medical space that catered to injuries from the protests, was released. These two activists were not the first to go missing. On June 22nd, an X (formerly Twitter) Space titled “Good Morning Kenya: Where is Crazy Nairobian?” ran for more than 7 hours and garnered more than 1.2 million listeners. It was held to find another outspoken protestor popular on the social media platform, Billy Simani , who had been abducted from his house in the dead of the night. It was becoming a common occurrence for young Kenyans to tweet “They have come for me,” their abductions a clear fear tactic wielded by the state to tame the burgeoning anti-tax protests. It was only midmorning on the 25th of June, but the sun was already unforgiving in Nakuru, a metropolitan city northwest of Nairobi, Kenya. However, the heat did not seem to deter the thousands of protesters who were marching along the main street, bearing placards, twigs, whistles, vuvuzelas - virtually anything that would amplify their core message: #RejectFinanceBill2024. These protests, mostly made up of people under the age of 35, were being replicated across almost all major cities in the country. The movement had snowballed to such a degree that it was being labeled "The Mother of All Protests", and it was being helped by Kenyan Gen-Z. Shikoh Kihika is the Executive Director at Tribeless Youth, a local organization that works with creatives and young activists to imagine a better future for Kenya. She notes that these protests have been different from those held in the past. “The protests are not led by any civil society [organization], political party, or [established] activist. They are people-led, they are impromptu and they happen everywhere.” These protests did not mark the first time the Kenyans have marched against harsh economic policies. A year ago in 2023, former Prime Minister Raila Odinga led anti-government protests against the 2023 Finance Bill . This year though, the movement took an interesting turn. The Root of the Protests Beginning online, in late February 2024, on platforms such as X, TikTok, and Instagram, there was a public outcry in reaction to the 2024 Finance Bill . This bill was supposed to be the first in a series of tax reforms aimed at improving the economic state of the nation. The now scrapped bill included several items, including: Introducing the Eco Levy, a tax measure that would affect a selection of imported goods that could potentially harm the environment. This included a wide range of products, from sanitary goods and diapers, to electronic devices and much more An increase in the road maintenance levy from Ksh 18 to KSh 25 per liter of fuel An introduction of a 5% or 15% withholding tax on infrastructure bonds and sales made from digital marketplaces Scrapping of the minimum Ksh 24,000 threshold for services rendered by a resident, which would mean taxing minimum wage Introducing a 16% VAT on basic goods such as cooking oil and bread Amendment of the Data Act to allow the Kenya Revenue Authority to access the financial information of any Kenyan national without a court order The goal of the bill was to increase the tax-to-GDP ratio from the current 13.5% to 20% by 2025. Aware that achieving this increased target was going to be a hard strain on their lives, citizens escalated their outcry from digital spaces to the streets. Courtesy of Gregory Ochieng. A Technolution Technology has been the heartbeat of this revolution, evident in the way social media and artificial intelligence have been used on different fronts. The first and most powerful tool has been the use of social media. Spaces and conference call features on X have been vital in mobilizing people for town hall discussions around civic education and dialogue. On this platform, the movement drew participants on a scale unlike anything seen before. Citizen-run X spaces amassed well over a million listeners. People urged President Ruto to engage with them in this digital space. When he finally hosted space , it had over 6.7 million listeners. On these X Spaces, citizens asked their leaders tough and bold questions regarding the economic state of the country, extrajudicial killings, abductions, and other issues ailing the nation. Instagrammers used graphics to spread the word about protests. TikTok users conducted their own citizen journalism to cover the nationwide protests, giving the world a first-class seat to Kenya’s impassioned streets. Once discussions filtered downstream to counties, towns, and smaller communities, WhatsApp took center stage as the preferred method of communication. Through groups and communities, people were able to organize meeting points, map out marching routes, organize water and medical supplies, and provide updates. Enter the AI Cavalry Artificial Intelligence, specifically Open AI's ChatGPT software was used by ordinary people to create the Finance Bill GPT , a resource tool that broke down the finance bill and its implications. Another GPT on tracking corruption helped Kenyans track accountability for the people in or about to be elected to power. Using the Chatbot, people could get highly technical information broken down into understandable bite-size pieces. One of the most disruptive digital tools was a communication app, Zello , that turned phones into walkie-talkies. Zello was also used to give live updates on the protests. By turning a phone into a walkie-talkie, the protesters were able to keep up live communications without the hassle of getting personal numbers, texting, or having to log in to an app. According to Patrick Kinyua, founder of Nakuru TV and an avid user of the app, within two days of its mention on X, the app saw a surge of new users tallying in the thousands. “Through Zello, people would tune in to get updates on road closures, sightings of anti-riot police, police bowsers, and to talk about their experiences.” During the second reading of the finance bill, Kenyans took to openly doxxing their respective members of parliament in a bid to get them to vote no on the bill. In a move they cheekily termed ‘salimia’ (greeting), constituents sent thousands of calls and texts to the cell phone numbers of members of parliament, urging them to ‘greet’ them. The MPs acknowledged that they were receiving these calls and texts and pleaded with the public that they had heard their concerns. However, a few days later, the bill sailed through. The situation became dire after the bill passed. Protestors hit the streets, breaching the parliament, and setting part of it ablaze. At the county level, protestors attempted to enter local state houses and county assemblies. Events turned deadly as at least 23 people across the country lost their lives. The president could not ignore the problem and was forced to act by declining to sign the bill into law. However, this was not before he issued a statement terming the protests as "treasonous events" orchestrated by "dangerous criminals." This only served to fuel the public’s anger, who had taken to the streets to demand accountability from their leaders. Leveraging technology did not stop with the street protests alone. In the aftermath, crowdfunding using a platform known as M-Changa raised over Ksh 30 million. The money was used to assist in the burials of those who had died and help those who had been injured during the protests. In addition, an online database was set up to keep track of all persons missing since the beginning of the protests. Courtesy of Gregory Ochieng. A Middle Ground? Since the June 25th protests, President Ruto has attempted to address the concerns raised during that time in various ways. Apart from not signing the bill, he held a roundtable where journalists Linus Kaikai, Erick Latiff, and Joe Ageyo had a conversation on the state of the nation with regard to the Finance Bill. However, this event became a PR crisis, as the president made several problematic statements, including doubling down on his previous claim that the protestors were treasonous. "They went straight for the armory and mausoleum, indicating they were organized criminals," Ruto said. He also attempted to do a virtual town hall on X , but Kenyans asked tough questions on abductions and extrajudicial killings that he was unable to answer satisfactorily. The grim discovery of bodies in Kware following the anti-tax protests in Kenya has intensified concerns about the use of force during demonstrations. It has sparked outrage among citizens and human rights organizations, who have been calling for thorough investigations into the circumstances surrounding the deaths. The discovery has further fueled tensions between protesters and law enforcement, raising serious questions about crowd control tactics and the protection of civil liberties during periods of civil unrest. There have been growing demands for accountability and urgent calls for a re-evaluation of how authorities respond to public demonstrations. The fervor in the streets is yet to subside, and the underlying issues that sparked the unrest remain largely unresolved. The Kenyan government faces the challenge of addressing citizens' concerns about the high cost of living and alleged corruption while also maintaining stability. The resilience and democratic spirit of the Kenyan people has been on full display, and all eyes are now on the nation's leaders and how they will respond to this clear call for change. The coming months will be crucial in determining whether the Gen Z-led revolution will result in any meaningful reforms or if the cycle of discontent will continue. One thing stands out: digital tools and technology have emerged as powerful tools for democracy, shaping Kenya’s political landscape in unexpected and deeply impactful ways. ∎ SUB-HEAD Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Dispatch Nairobi Kenya X Social Media Artificial Intelligence AI Finance Bill Chat GPT Zello Protest Twitter Salimia M-Changa Gen-Z Tribeless Youth 2024 Finance Bill Eco Levy RejectFinanceBill2024 Police Brutality Youth Protest Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. 15th Oct 2024 AUTHOR · AUTHOR Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Add paragraph text. 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ADVISORY EDITOR Zuneera Shah ZUNEERA SHAH is a writer from Lahore, Pakistan. ADVISORY EDITOR WEBSITE INSTAGRAM TWITTER Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 LOAD MORE

The story of the Spring Revolution in Myanmar can be told through the footwear—the strewn, tossed, bloodied, abandoned—that is tied up with both the iconography and reality of brutal state violence. Piles of flip-flops amidst the debris, military boots stomping the ground: both are “central characters” of the Revolution. FEATURES Whose Footfall is Loudest? Thawda Aye Lei The story of the Spring Revolution in Myanmar can be told through the footwear—the strewn, tossed, bloodied, abandoned—that is tied up with both the iconography and reality of brutal state violence. Piles of flip-flops amidst the debris, military boots stomping the ground: both are “central characters” of the Revolution. Never in my life did I think that flip-flops could be fascinating. Only after a memorable incident entailing a particular pair of flip-flops did I begin to pay attention to them. An incident, yes! The one that will stay with me my whole life. It made me realise that certain footwear could carry more meaning than just “footwear”. It happened after Amay passed away. Before she drew her last breath, Amay had been struggling with lung cancer for nearly three months. At the time, we were living in a small town. Hoping that we could still save her, we sent her to a hospital in the city. We buried her there when she died. Without Amay, our journey back to our small town was desolate. My heart felt empty, as if there was nothing left for me to hold on to. Everything around me went pitch dark, as if I had been pulled into a black hole. When it was decided that all of Amay’s belongings would be given away to needy families, I acquiesced. I didn’t want to cling to her stuff—after all, I had lost Amay as a person already. Even then, something that belonged to Amay was discovered unexpectedly. A pair of flip-flops. Under Amay’s bed, lying still and quiet in the darkest corner as if they were hiding, were a pair of her flip-flops. They must have been separated from Amay when she was taken to hospital. When I looked at them carefully, I saw that the soles were worn out and the heels were ragged. Amay was a frugal woman who always budgeted carefully and spent wisely. Apart from a new pair of flip-flops for some occasions, she wore these worn rubber flip-flops on a daily basis—when she did household chores and went grocery shopping—for many years. If the straps were broken, she would replace them with new ones herself. If only one strap of her flip-flop was broken, she would keep one new strap for later use. After several years of daily use, Amay’s toeprints were imprinted on the flip-flops. Tears started rolling down as I looked at them. These flip-flops showed me beyond a doubt how Amay went through hard times in her life, and how she endured pain and suffering. That pair of flip-flops I inherited from Amay would stay with me for many, many more years. Since then, I’ve been drawn to stories, memories and lives that could be revealed by well-worn flip-flops. We might change clothes every day, but a member of a low-income household, who could barely afford an extra pair of flip-flops, had to rely on the only pair they had. Flip-flops were a poor person’s comrades-in-arms on a thorny road. Flip-flops gave them strength. They were as close to them as their own skin. “My flip-flops are my fortress!” poet Hla Than declared. After the military coup in February 2021, I collected more intriguing stories of flip-flops and their owners. A small, underdeveloped country suffering from economic asthma under COVID-19 was hit by a rogue political wave. This spring, the future of the nation became as blurry as the spring mist itself. If someone looked far into the future, they would only see a parched land. The military claimed that the 2020 election fraud made the coup inevitable. Prior to the election, “The Sound of Heels,” an election campaign song by the National League for Democracy (NLD), was very popular. It became the NLD’s triumphant anthem following the party’s landslide victory in the election, but it vanished into thin air after the military seized power. The song was dedicated to the State Counsellor, Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, leader of the NLD, to whom her supporters referred as “Amay”. The song was about how her efforts gave Myanmar, an ostracised society under long years of military rule, a chance to step onto the world stage. On 1 February, the clack-clack of heels were silenced by the bang-bang of military boots. Before long, the whole country was completely under the boots. The voices of mourning mothers, the tongue-clicking of dismayed youth, the moaning of farmers out of their stubbled fields and workers out of their factories got louder and louder each day. “Join the CDM now!” As soon as the rallying cry put people on alert, all those different voices merged together—ineffectual whines turned into battle cries reverberating across the sky. If someone had ever questioned whether footwear could be frightening, the answer would have been “yes” if they were military boots. In the first week of the Spring Revolution, civil servants joined the CDM en masse. The main action of the CDM was that no employee should go to work. In some political cartoons, military generals in jackboots trampled doctors, school teachers and workers. “Stop going to office, struggle out of the dictatorship!” was the slogan of the strikers. They warned each other that if people continued to work for the military state, many precious lives, beautiful things and human values would be smashed under the boots. That’s how footwear became a central character in the Myanmar Spring Revolution. There was more to come. Within a week of the coup, thousands of young people took to the streets. In response, the military hired a group of jingoists and staged counter-protests. Some anti-coup protesters started shouting that they were out on the street on their own volition, and that they had not been paid by anyone. To drive home the point that they were from well-to-do families and that they could not possibly be bought, they came to the protests in expensive outfits and shoes. This, however, only highlighted the dire situation of most of their fellow protestors, who couldn’t afford fancy outfits. There were messages on social media condemning some affluent protesters for talking down to people from underprivileged backgrounds, including those hired by the military. In opposing tyranny, people simultaneously learned to smash any form of discrimination based on wealth or class. Day by day, the revolution gathered strength. It soon turned into a nationwide protest of people from all walks of life—rural and urban. Their footfall echoed in the streets. Now street surfaces seemed totally covered by an array of flip-flops and shoes that it would be difficult for anyone to gain a foothold there. Spring was in full bloom. On roads where fallen ones would be laid to rest, columns after columns of rallies continued to march over and over again. One of the non-violent protests was known as “Lace your shoes up!” In the early days of the Spring, security personnel seemed uncertain about whether they should use force against protesters. They tried to push the crowds off the roads, saying the people were obstructing traffic. The youth reacted by making their protests mobile. They moved around in small groups and continued to protest. They crossed the road when the light was green. They stopped when the light turned red. They shouted rally cries. As soon as they had the chance, they sat on the road, lacing up their shoes at a leisurely pace. Policemen watching them were speechless. In the following days, there were “harvesting onion” and “collecting rice grains” movements. Loose onions and grains of rice were deliberately poured out in the middle of a road so everyone could help pick them up and put them back in the bags to annoy the police. Spring flowers of a variety of colours were seen everywhere. New and creative forms of revolutionary activities shone here and there. Some people found fault with these kinds of protests. Young people were not serious, they said. Others pointed out the generation gap. Older people did not understand the state-of-the-art techniques of young people. In reality in the early days of the spring, people of all ages managed to build mutual trust and solidarity. They were full of energy, enjoying the calm before a storm. The fresh, green spring would soon turn into a fully-blown parched summer. The intense heat made wall tiles rise up and crack. A heatwave also pervaded throughout the democratic movement. The forces, standing up hand-in-hand against the junta, were hit with a bloody gust. A volley of gunfire across the sky set a flock of roosting birds on a chaotic flight. A group of soldiers and police chased down the protesters who were retreating into a neighbourhood, and beat them to death like blood-starved beasts. Even the black asphalt road began to weep, blood streaming down all over her face. After blood was spilled, the style of people’s revolutionary art also changed. Each time a group of people were chased by guns and batons, dozens of ownerless flip-flops would be left abandoned on the street. Some flip-flops were upside down, others in the gutter, and many of them unpaired. And yet most of them looked well-worn. When the security forces were gone, people picked them up and organised them in pairs for their owners to come and collect them. The abandoned flip-flops didn’t look great but they could be invaluable to their owners. In this way, I learned, rather accidentally, that flip-flops had always been important witnesses to our revolutions. In the 1988 uprising, flip-flops were scattered everywhere on the road. In the 2007 Saffron Revolution, there were many flipflops drenched in blood. Following the 2015 student protests, hundreds of flip-flops were on the road again. There was even a shoe charity campaign in 2021. It emerged after some people began to question on social media what kind of shoes would be most suitable for protests if they were to escape from violent attacks. A number of shoe donors came forward. In some places, many pairs of “used, feel free to take” shoes in various sizes were on offer. Some people who owned extra pairs of shoes shared them with their comrades. They exchanged metta in sharing shoes. They looked after each other. They became more united, realising that people were cut from the same cloth. On top of physical violence, people also suffered from psychological warfare by the regime. The longer a revolution dragged on, the more volatile revolutionary morale could become. And yet, crackdowns notwithstanding, most protesters decided to continue with their struggle. Some bid farewells to their parents and friends. “In the event that I am killed I donate my organs to anyone in need,” some people wrote in their wills. “Don’t push this person any further, / at land’s end / my flipflops are my fortress,” read the last lines of a poem by Hla Than. People prepared for a last-ditch fight. Oaths—that they would not back down no matter what—were sworn. They glued pictures of the coup leader on the roads and marched on them. The senior general’s face was smeared with hundreds of footprints. The murder of protesters became more commonplace. The number of martyrs multiplied every day. People shed new tears before old tears dried on their cheeks. They were placed under curfew. Internet access was restricted. Arrests and detentions under various charges became more frequent. People felt less and less secure. There were no more grounds for them to take a stand, so it seemed. They became afraid of nightfall. What they feared more probably was the nightfall over their future. One day I saw a photo of a pair of slippers on social media. “These belonged to a mother. They were left during a protest.” They were white and size 37. The straps were white, but not pure white. The left and right slippers must have been thrown into disarray when the wearer was attacked. There was a line of blood on the pavement that stained one of them. I learned that the owner was a 50-year-old schoolteacher. She was shot to death at that spot by the military terrorists. A bullet that hit her hand took her life as she had a heart condition. “She wasn’t feeling very well when she went to the protest,” said her daughter in an interview. The alleged “2020 election fraud” brought dishonour to members of the education department who had overseen the polling stations. That’s why she believed that it was her duty to protest the coup on the front line. Before she left home, she had comforted her daughter that the security forces would go easy and not use violence against school teachers. Sadly, the gun barrel does not discriminate—it was loyal only to the finger that pulled the trigger. One bullet after another shattered our dreams. Karl Marx’s slogan “Proletarians have nothing to lose but their chains,” echoed loudly among the masses. The daughter wept violently over the slippers left by her fallen mother. This reminded me of how I cried whenever I saw my amay’s flip-flops. What of her? Would she become interested in footwear too? In revolutions, footwear is often prematurely parted from its wearers. The group in military boots stood firm, determined to put an end to the civilian resistance. The people had no weapons, nor sturdy shields. Their flip-flops wore thin. Even then, the hot, bloody roads couldn’t be worse than hell. No one seemed to mind the intense heat under their soles. With or without footwear, their way out of hell would be an arduous journey. ∎ Endnotes : Hla Than’s poem was translated by Ko Ko Thett. This essay appeared in Picking Off New Shoots Will Not Stop the Spring: Witness Poems and Essays from Burma/Myanmar 1988-2021 , edited by Ko Ko Thett and Brian Haman, and published by Gaudy Boy in North America, Balestier Press in the UK, and Ethos Books in Singapore. ALSO IN THIS ISSUE: AUTHOR Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 AUTHOR Heading 5 Artwork by Mahnoor Azeem. Ink collage on cardstock. SHARE Facebook ↗ Twitter ↗ LinkedIn ↗ Essay Myanmar Military Coup Spring Revolution Saffron Revolution Hla Than Aung San Suu Kyi National League for Democracy Amay Sound Low-Income Workers Picking Off New Shoots Will Not Stop the Spring Student Movements Student Protests Incarceration Military Crackdown Military Dictatorship Military Operations Revolution Histories of Revolutionary Politics THAWDA AYE LEI is a Burmese writer who has published four novels and two short story collections. She is currently working as a researcher on gender- and media-related studies for Burma-based international NGOs. In 2021, she enrolled in the PhD program in Political Science at McMaster University, Canada. Essay Myanmar 24th Feb 2023 MAHNOOR AZEEM is an illustrator, writer, and recent graduate of the Savannah College of Art and Design. She is based in Lahore. On That Note: Heading 5 23rd OCT Heading 5 23rd Oct Heading 5 23rd Oct