HISTORIAN Tehila Sasson TEHILA SASSON is assistant professor of history at Emory University. She is a historian of the British empire and decolonization, with a particular interest in the history economic life, and the author of The Solidarity Economy: NGOs and the Postimperial Origins of Neoliberalism (Princeton University Press, May 2024). Her writing has appeared in leading publications such as the American Historical Review , Past & Present , and Dissent . HISTORIAN WEBSITE INSTAGRAM TWITTER Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 LOAD MORE

These reflections do not aim to present a neat list of 2024’s "best" books or "essential reads." Instead, they are fragments of what stayed with us: works that lingered and called us back. | editorial · BOOKS & ARTS From the Editors · 2024 in Reading SAAG’s 2024 In Reading These reflections do not aim to present a neat list of 2024’s "best" books or "essential reads." Instead, they are fragments of what stayed with us: works that lingered and called us back. Digital Illustration by Iman Iftikhar. Reading in 2024 often felt like fumbling for grounding amidst relentless upheaval. At times, it offered escape and solace. At others, it demanded grappling, interrogation, and a necessary confrontation. Whether through poetry, history, fiction, or essays, our reading this year insisted on engagement: on seeing, feeling, and remembering to live, even when it felt unbearable. These reflections do not aim to present a neat list of 2024’s "best" books or "essential reads." Instead, they are fragments of what stayed with us: works that lingered and called us back. Our favorites include a novel set in Baltimore tracing the lives of the Palestinian diaspora, texts that provide much needed clarity on revolutionary politics, a quiet yet searing study of sound and space, some comfort reads, and much more. These books held mirrors to the year and world we lived through, compelling us to look even closer when we could not look away. Here, in the voices of those who read and felt with these works, we share not only our most loved reads of the year but the struggles they opened up for us, allowing us to see anew. #1 I have an enduring love for novels that are political yet rise above preachiness or self-absorption to deliver an actual narrative. This year, I needed something visceral to help process the anger I carried: at the personally testing situations I faced over the past year, at myself, at politics everywhere, and at the state of the world we inhabit. My mind feels oversaturated by the relentless stream of online clickbaity content, which so often tells you how to feel rather than inviting you to actually think. My two favourite novels from my year in reading are Chain-Gang All Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah and Headshot by Rita Bullwinkel . Fiction, though it might seem an escape from reality on the surface, teaches imagination and heart like nothing else. Reading about people in combat—be it dystopian televised death matches among the incarcerated or teenage girl boxers—transported me this year to worlds where I could quietly take stock of do-or-die battles: from the expansive and deadly to the taut and fleeting. — Zoya Rehman, Associate Editor #2 Although I had a thinner reading year in general, I waited quite excitedly for the release of Poor Artists , a hybrid work of fiction and non-fiction by art writing duo The White Pube (Zarina Muhammad and Gabrielle de la Puente). It follows a young brown artist in the UK named Quest Talukdar and includes anonymous material from real art world figures. The book is so refreshing, lucid, and plainly radical. As a young person working in the arts in the UK right now, it simultaneously felt crazy and comforting to imagine other ways of being creative under capitalism, with mutual care at the forefront. In short: I am so glad this book exists in published form. — Vamika Sinha, Senior Editor #3 How many ways are there to write histories of a language, or more specifically, histories of a script? In Scripts of Power: Writing, Language Practices, and Cultural History in Western India , Prachi Deshpande outlines at least two methods, weaving a fascinating history of Modi writing, a cursive Marathi script that has, since the early 20th century, fallen into disuse. There’s a cherished dogma among some South Asians who see the subcontinental patchwork of regional linguistic blocs as somehow more organic an entity than the bloc of nation-states that we have today. The book makes one wonder how true that is. My second pick, Thomas S. Mullaney’s book on the Chinese computer , is a direct descendent of his earlier work on the Chinese typewriter (which carries one my favorite acknowledgments of any academic monographs; it begins: “What is your problem?”). This one asks how different generations of engineers, enthusiasts, eccentrics, and entrepreneurs tried to solve the fundamental problem of computing in Chinese: how does one input a language with no alphabet into a digital computer? Lastly, I chose Write like a Man: Jewish Masculinity and the New York Intellectuals by Ronnie Grinberg , partly because it is about a bunch of people who read, wrote for, and edited longform, literary-political magazines based out of New York (much like SAAG), and were interested in engaging with the world through argument. And partly because I have a weakness for anything having to do with the midcentury, Partisan Review-Commentary-Encounter crowd. Grinberg’s book, thankfully, is a refreshing departure from the exhausted genre that is the lament for the decline of (often New York-based) public intellectuals. — Shubhanga Pandey, Senior Editor #4 This year, every book I read felt like a knock-out including: Animal by Dorothea Lasky , Yellowface by R.F. Kuang , Letters to a Writer of Color edited by Deepa Anappara and Taymour Soomro , Fling Diction by Frances Canon , Riambel by Priya Hein , Dumb Luck and Other Poems by Christine Kitano , Letter to the Father by Franz Kafka , Another Word for Love by Carvell Wallace , Cloud Missives by Kenzie Allen , A Fish Growing Lungs by Alysia Li Ying Sawchyn , and The Psychology of Supremacy by Dwight Turner , among many others. Each book I read challenged and changed my approach to creative writing craft, human psychology, how we process social trauma, and what we can learn from community, as well as demanding systemic change. One poetry collection that showed me how form could explode on the page, and how polyvocality and the acknowledgement of our ancestors could be conveyed, was JJJJJerome Ellis’s Aster of Ceremonies . The collection plays with the idea of “Master of Ceremonies” as someone who both entertains and has authority over the stage. With his stutter, Ellis has difficulty pronouncing “master” (which then becomes “aster” in his work). Throughout the collection, Ellis interrogates the notion of master, both as the figurehead who controls the lives of others, often under authoritarian or tyrannical rule, and as a symbol of accomplishment and the mastery of craft. — Rita Banerjee, Fiction Editor #5 2024 has been a difficult reading year for me because of the state of the world. I often relied on comfort reads, including contemporary romances and "romantasies," but even within these genres, I encountered books that were surprising, thoughtful, and heartbreaking. A series I became hooked on was Wolfsong by TJ Klune (Green Creek, #1), which was both difficult and troubling to read (many trigger warnings), yet its writing wore its heart on its sleeve—it was raw, unabashed, and unrestrained. That's why I appreciate love stories—they give the reader permission to feel all the uncomfortable, awkward, dramatic, and unrestrained emotions. Ali Hazelwood was my favorite go-to read in contemporary romances. Another kind of comfort came from revisiting decades-old books. I read older Kazuo Ishiguro books and re-read Elena Ferrante's Neapolitan Quartet , drawn by their effortless, soothing prose, even when the novels explored difficult situations. Two books stood out to me this year. First, Minor Detail by Adania Shibli . The novel begins in 1949, through the perspective of an Israeli soldier. As the story unfolds, small, seemingly "minor" details catch his eye, details that take on deeper meaning as the novel shifts to the perspective of a Palestinian woman in the present day. The sense of dread builds slowly but relentlessly. It is a difficult read; many trigger warnings for rape, violence, and sexual assault. I also loved The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley . This year, while leaning into lighthearted romances for a mental health break, this novel struck the perfect balance—lighthearted in moments, but deeply moving and beautifully written. The story follows a bureaucrat hired to work in a study and keep an eye on an "expat" that the government has brought from history: Graham Gore, who originally died on a doomed Arctic expedition in the 1800s. The novel broke my heart, transformed me, made me laugh, and gasp. I could not put it down. — Nur Nasreen Ibrahim, Senior Editor #6 2024 wasn’t a year for pleasure reading; it was a year for intentional reading. Scrambling to decide what to read, compounded by the weight of world events, brought into focus all the things I knew I didn’t know. This year, I actively sought out new sources of information, embracing a practical and necessary discomfort. That commitment began with the search for knowledge about a region my research focuses on: Central Asia. I happened upon one of the best reads of the year, The King’s Road: Diplomacy and the Remaking of the Silk Road by Xin Wen . This 300-page deep dive into the history and culture of the Silk Road examines ancient trade and cultural exchanges during a distinctive age of exploration. Wen argues that diplomacy–unlike how we see or use it today–was central to fostering dialogue, trade, and mutual respect, all while navigating conflict without resorting to war. If you love history, travel, economics, or international relations, this one's for you. The idea of traversing conflict without resorting to war was also the focus of a graduate course I completed just two days ago. Another favorite read of the year, spurred by our course discussions, was Human Capital: A History of Putting Refugees to Work by Laura Robson . I kept returning to this book all throughout term; every time I opened it, there was a new thread to follow. In this 250-page work, Robson examines how capital is often prioritised over human dignity, showing how economic forces undermine individual security and lead to physical, emotional, and psychological dislocation. And what kind of reading year would it be without a novel? In The Melancholy of Resistance by László Krasznahorkai , I was confronted with despair, power, and the fragility of society. This atmospheric novel taught me how to confront the eerie wonders of the world while living under the looming shadow of societal collapse. — Nazish Chunara, Associate Editor #7 I loved Border and Rule by Harsha Walia . With microscopic clarity, and a postcolonial lens, Walia’s book is an indictment of the smoke-and-mirrors narratives used by states to obfuscate the horrible realities of displacement, forced migration, and statelessness. These realities, Walia argues, are hardwired into today’s capitalist and insidiously racist border control systems of Western capitals. The book further demonstrates how these practices, benefiting a few while exploiting those on the move, are being deployed by Middle Powers in the so-called Global South—such as the UAE, India, and Brazil—against the backdrop of rising populism and the widening gulf between rich and poor. — Mushfiq Mohamed, Senior Editor #8 As South Asians, we are all acutely familiar with the India-Pakistan hegemony on the intellectual discourse in the region (language, caste, class, ethnicity, and gender, of course, further complicate who from within these regions gets to speak, if at all). Particularly, as a Pakistani woman, rarely have I had an opportunity to concertedly engage with literature by Bengali, Nepalese, Tamil, or Malayali (to name a few) writers from beyond the Hindu/Urdu speaking world. In 2024, I sought to change this and read translated writing from across the South Asian diaspora. In particular, I would like to recommend Hospital by Sanya Rushdi –a short yet powerful novel exploring the psychosis experienced by a young Bangladeshi woman in a psychiatric facility in Melbourne. I also loved Ten Days of The Strike by Sandipan Chattopadhyay , with the titular essay serving as a powerful reminder of the politics of shitting. In general, a Bengali translation by Arunava Sinha , I realised, will never disappoint a reader. Honorary mentions among my SA reading list include: Password and Other Stories by Appadurai Muttulingam , and the award-winning Brotherless Night by V.V. Ganeshanathan . — Iman Iftikhar, Associate Editor #9 More than any other year, 2024 left me feeling like I don't know anything about my world. More often than not, I didn't have the vocabulary and, more disturbingly, the emotional-spiritual bandwidth to articulate or sit with what was/is happening in the world and how it can/could/should impact how I move through life. I learnt a lot from reading Strangers to Ourselves by Rachel Aviv, Human Acts by Han Kang , Minor Detail by Adania Shibli, and the poetry and writing Shripad Sinnakaar shared on social media. These writers gave me words, feelings and narrative clarity to sustain my engagement with the world and not shut it out in the face of incomprehension. — Esthappen S., Drama Editor #10 I’ve been reflecting a lot on sound and space this year. Live Audio Essays by Lawrence Abu Hamdan is a collection of transcribed and edited texts from the performances and films he has written and compiled. Moving through excerpt-like recounts, it situates sound through text, blending anecdote with punctuated investigations. It’s a fascinating push to think more deeply about how sound is interpreted and engaged with in different contexts, from the power of sumud to police tip offs, to studying the biological effects of noise pollution. Over the summer, I visited Autograph in London to see Ernest Cole: A Lens in Exile , curated by Mark Sealy . This remarkable exhibition presented images from Cole’s time in New York and his travels around the USA during his exile from South Africa in the 1960s. I also appreciated the catalogue-style book accompanying the exhibition, The True America: Photographs by Ernest Cole , as well as Raoul Peck’s documentary, Ernest Cole: Lost and Found . While working in Paris, I attended Offprint . I had sternly instructed myself to just look and not buy more books(!), but then a small, palm-sized monotone blue book caught my eye. Hold the Sound: Notes on Auditories , edited by Justine Stella Knuchel and Jan Steinbach, is a compilation of texts by artists and researchers attempting to encapsulate descriptions of sound. The book gathers words by Apichatpong Weerasethakul, John Cage, Mosab Abu Toha, Sun Ra, and many others. On my way out I squealed embarrassingly—like an auntie remarking on how much I’ve grown—when I saw Luvuyo Nyawose’s eBhish’ . — Clare Patrick, Art Editor #11 This year, I read in the hour or so I had while our one-year-old slept and I could still keep my eyes open. Reading was both urgent, pressurized by the devastating plight of Palestinians, and a moment to breathe: a space for contemplation, and to feel. I read history, horror, and grief, grief, grief. Rarely is political analysis as exhilarating as in my first favourite read of 2024: The Selected Writings of Eqbal Ahmad , edited by Carollee Bengelsoorf, Margaret Cerullo, and Yogesh Chandrani . From revolutionary movements to “pathologies of power,” to Palestine, the cold war, and Pakistan-India, Ahmad’s insights are crystal clear, provocative, moral, and startlingly prescient. I want to emphasize the clarity of his writing, perhaps owed to his pedagogy as a teacher. I meant to read selections but ended up reading it straight through. My second pick is The Singularity by Balsam Karam (translated by Saskia Vogel) . In an unnamed coastal city, a refugee woman searches for her daughter until, in despair, she leaps to her death, an act witnessed by another woman who narrates this aching, fragmentary testimony of grief–for children, for home. Lastly, [...] by Fady Joudah : what we read this year, we read through a genocide. Fady’s scathing poems left no brutality or complicity unnamed, while speaking with tender sorrow to the dead and wounded. If nothing else, listen to Fady read Dedication here . — Ahsan Butt, Fiction Editor #12 I would like to offer Behind You Is the Sea , a novel by Susan Muaddi Darraj. Released in January 2024, just months after the events of October 7, Darraj’s novel follows three Palestinian American families in Baltimore. Its tender, nuanced characterizations of women and men, young and old, navigating their place in a city burdened by legacies of racial, economic, and legal apartheid, offer an honest exploration of immigrant life in America. Although written before the current conflict in Gaza and Occupied Palestine, it reminds us of the generational trauma and resilience that all Palestinians in the diaspora carry with them. — Aditya Desai, Advisory Editor #13 This year, I loved Sahar Romani’s poetry chapbook, The Opening , a beautiful, tender collage of poems on family, love, and coming into yourself, and into the world. For fiction, I recommend two very different books. When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain is a speculative fiction novella by Hugo Award winning author Nghi Vo. It’s wildly inventive, lyrically written, menacing, beautiful, and queer. Also on the novella tip, Berlin-based Palestinian author Adania Shibli’s novel, Minor Detail , stunned me. Written in clear, marching prose, its focus on minor details, set against the backdrop of occupation, sexual violence, death, and exile, is a portrait and a protest. In nonfiction, I loved: 1) Inciting Joy , a book of essays by Ross Gay, each one luminous with generosity, perceptiveness, and yes, joy. 2) Come Together by sex researcher Emily Nagoski, about sex in long-term relationships, though my biggest takeaway came from two chapters on the gender mirage (women as givers, men as winners) and how this construct within our patriarchal society undermines and destroys heterosexual relationships. 3) Poverty by America is sociologist Matthew Desmond’s heartbreaking follow-up to his even sadder book, Eviction . I grew up middle class, and it was infuriating and eye-opening–I’d recommend it to anyone, especially if you didn’t grow up poor. 4) Sex with a Brain Injury by Annie Liontas was another revelation, giving me enormous empathy for those with acute brain injuries (more common than you know!) and all their attendant furies. 5) Last but certainly not least, I listened to All About Love by African American legend bell hooks, twice, back to back, as the American election season came to a terrifying close. In 2025, I want to internalize hooks’ commitment to love as an ethic—in the family, in friendships, in the workplace, and in politics. — Abeer Hoque, Senior Editor With love, gratitude, and in solidarity, The Editors at SAAG. SUB-HEAD Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. From the Editors 2024 in Reading Fiction Chain-Gang All Stars Poor Artists Write Like a Man Yellowface Scripts of Power Aster of Ceremonies Wolfsong The Melancholy of Resistance Border & Rule Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah Ten Days of The Strike Rita Bullwinkel Ernest Cole Lawrence Abu Hamdan The Singularity Fady Joudah Behind You Is the Sea When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain Sex with a Brain Injury Arts Presently Poetry Literature & Liberation The White Pube Hybrid Multimodal Prachi Deshpande Ronnie Grinberg Dorothea Lasky R.F. Kuang Taymour Soomro Deepa Anappara Frances Canon Priya Hein Christine Kitano Franz Kafka Carvell Wallace Kenzie Allen Alysia Li Ying Sawchyn Dwight Turner JJJJJerome Ellis Craft Ali Hazelwood Adania Shibli Kaliane Bradley Xin Wen Laura Robson László Krasznahorkai Harsha Walia Sanya Rushdi Bengali Literature Tamil Literature Nepalese Literature Malayali Literature Sandipan Chattopadhyay Appadurai Muttulingam V.V. Ganeshanathan Shripad Sinnakaar Han Kang Mark Sealy Luvuyo Nyawose Susan Muaddi Darraj Sahar Romani Chapbook Ross Gay Matthew Desmond Emily Nagoski Annie Liontas bell hooks 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. 25th Dec 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:

In New Caledonia, a collectivity of the French Republic, a mainland political ploy to subvert the indigenous Kanak people’s right to self-determination faced waves of protest in the summer of 2024. With liberal international institutions failing to enforce meaningful solutions, the Melanesian island’s struggle for liberation parallels global indigenous movements for sovereignty and exposes the settler-colonial logic of displacement and democratic dilution. In New Caledonia, a collectivity of the French Republic, a mainland political ploy to subvert the indigenous Kanak people’s right to self-determination faced waves of protest in the summer of 2024. With liberal international institutions failing to enforce meaningful solutions, the Melanesian island’s struggle for liberation parallels global indigenous movements for sovereignty and exposes the settler-colonial logic of displacement and democratic dilution. Mahnoor Azeem, Untitled (2025). Digital illustration. Artist New Caledonia Zahra Yarali 26 Mar 2025 th · FEATURES REPORTAGE · LOCATION Dissipated Self-Determination In 1853, the French established the Saint-Denis Church of Balade, the first Catholic church in the small archipelago of Kanaky, known more widely today by its colonial name, New Caledonia . Ten years later, France seized control of the land and began to subtly but substantially desecrate the identity of the indigenous Melanesian Kanak people for imperial gain. On September 10, 2024, more than 160 years later, the Church became the fifth Catholic mission to be burned in response to the ongoing political violence and electoral erasure waged against the Kanak people by the French government. “Some elements of the Catholic Church are regarded by some younger Kanak militants as being symbolic of French state repression,” said David Robie, a New Zealand author and founder of the Asia Pacific Media Network, in an interview with SAAG . He noted, however, that Protestant Christian denominations in the Pacific have been found to support Kanak freedom. This repression was never more evident in New Caledonia—so marked in its démodé political approach—than in May 2024, when the French government weakened the pro-Kanaky voter base beyond any point of electoral voice. A proposed constitutional amendment, approved by the French National Assembly that month, sought to alter voting rights in a way many indigenous Kanak people feared would further diminish their political representation. In response, mass demonstrations erupted in frustration and protest. The unrest resulted in a revised death toll of 14, alongside hundreds of injuries. Numerous businesses and vehicles were destroyed, with the looting and damage on May 16 alone amounting to at least 200 million euros . In response to the escalating violence, France declared a state of emergency in New Caledonia, laying the ground for a brutal deployment of additional police and military forces to restore order. Many movement leaders, including the notable Christian Tien, were extradited to France under charges of “ organized crime .” Ultimately, the French government postponed the provincial elections scheduled for December 2024 to December 2025, aiming to address the underlying issues and restore stability. But this was a clear act of democratic erasure, aimed at further denigrating the humanity of the island’s Kanak people. “Sadly, three decades of goodwill and apparent goodwill from Paris and all sides have dissipated unjustly,” Robie added, “flaunting the United Nations Decolonization Committee provisions.” This ideological reversion to the fundamentals of neoliberal democracy has enraged the indigenous Kanak people of New Caledonia. It also raises questions about whether France ever intended to grant them sovereignty. It has further highlighted the historical deception that undergirds the self-sustenance of settler-colonies in the modern world, perpetuating disappearance under the guise of citizenship and electoral democracy. Kanaky Remains A French Colony After nearly a century of French colonization, Kanak populations were granted citizenship and the right to vote after 1946. This granting is a turning point in every colonial enterprise’s teleology to clinch onto their sovereignty. Following a feigned investment in the population of the exploitee, a colonizer must decide what tools of population disappearance will be most palatable to the populations’ particular land and labor context. New Caledonia was essentially an autonomously governed territory for a generation after World War II—until another war spotlighted the strategic value of the archipelago’s nickel resources. The Vietnam War, an imperialist venture in its own right, brought the small island back into focus, and Charles De Gaulle decided the nickel profits were too lucrative an exploit to pass up. The Union Calédonienne lost its majority voter base in the years surrounding the Vietnam War, as an influx of mainland French citizens arrived to disenfranchise the Kanak by shifting the weight of the body politic towards mainland sympathy. In the company of the U.S. Virgin Islands, Western Sahara, Gibraltar, and other de jure-occupied “territories” throughout Oceania, New Caledonia remains one of the last standing administrative colonies in the world. It also shares with states like Algeria a history of exploitation characteristic of French colonial enterprises. The French overseas department-turned-collectivity is now at a political standstill, partially because the indigenous people placed faith in France’s supposed goodwill efforts in the 1990s to pave the way for Kanak self-determination. The culmination of those efforts—the Nouméa Accord of 1998 —then enshrined into the French constitution a purportedly pragmatic approach to Kanak self-determination and the eventual establishment of New Caledonia as Kanaky. The accord stipulated that after 20 years, the people of New Caledonia would have three opportunities to vote for independence via referendum. David Chappell, a scholar on the modern revolutionary history of the Kanak people and Professor Emeritus at the University of Hawaii, told SAAG that while the Nouméa accord may be viewed as a successful negotiation following a period of intense Kanak rebellion, it was likely only ever an attempt to “delay decolonization.” In 2018 and 2020, the Kanak population, currently comprising around 40% of New Caledonia, fell just short of their goal. Between the first and the second referendums, their base grew by enough percentage points that movement leaders were optimistic about their imminent third chance at independence. “It was supposed to be held in 2022, but Macron moved it up [to 2021] at the last minute,” Chappell told SAAG . In response to concerns regarding a COVID-19 outbreak that had struck the island, particularly the Kanak community leading up to the vote, and given the mourning procedures of the Kanak people that often lasted up to a year, movement leaders demanded the referendum be postponed. None of these demands were taken seriously. An active Kanak boycott of the vote in tandem with many abstentions based on COVID-19 cautiousness thus manifested in low voter turnout. The election results, where only 43% of all voting-eligible New Caledonians participated and voted overwhelmingly in favor of staying with France, were immediately—and naturally—called into question. “The last [two and a half] decades had allowed pacification and progress on the path to decolonization,” French New Caledonian organizer Francis Sitel wrote to SAAG . “This is what was spoiled by the government's power grabs.” Beyond rejecting calls for a revote on the grounds of unfair voting circumstances, in May 2024, the French government decided the moment was opportune for a constitutional amendment granting voting rights to New Caledonians who arrived in the past two decades—in other words, those with weakest historical claim to the land. This decision, coming on the heels of the boycotted referendum that had already left the Kanak people scorned by France, has triggered a dramatic response—protests that have escalated to the brink of insurrection. This sequence of events has been entirely predictable and preventable,” Robie detailed. “However, the French state (under Macron) is completely tone-deaf and dogmatic in its responses to the indigenous Kanaks’ aspirations for independence.” New Leader, Same Strategy Today, New Caledonia remains one of the world’s top five nickel producers . The industry is crucial to the Kanak people’s future self-governance and sustenance, but it is clear that France is unwilling to relinquish control easily. According to Robie, Macron’s “rescue” initiative for the nickel industry was staunchly contested by the Kanak people, as it “favor[ed] the incumbent industry players and [did little] to spread the economy to support Kanaks.” However, South Africa has shown interest in reviving the nickel industry—what Robie called a “glimmer of hope—while France has seemingly taken the cue to venture for capital elsewhere. “France is interested in the 200-mile maritime Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ),” Robie explained. An EEZ grants a country exclusive rights to exploit natural resources within 200 miles of its shores. Due to the former empire’s vast ownership of islands territories globally, France possesses the world’s second-largest EEZ. The same colonial strategy of buying time endures. Former Prime Minister Michel Barnier behaved in the same fashion: on 1 October , he announced that elections in New Caledonia would be postponed for a year while also halting the progression of Macron’s controversial constitutional amendment, which sought to grant voting rights to newly resident French nationals in New Caledonia. Superficial gestures of good faith towards self-determination continue to be paired with the deliberate stalling of liberatory legal processes, inevitably leading to repression and violence. “France seems to be hellbent on a militarist and repressive response to the unrest in New Caledonia,” Robbie added, “instead of a negotiated, peaceful attempt to build a consensus.” He denounced the French government’s cruelty in deporting and jailing pro-independence leaders accused of incitement, forcing them to await trial in metropolitan France—over 10,000 miles away from the support of their families and communities. “It is reminiscent of some of the worst excesses of French 19th-century colonialism,” Robbie noted, “and has severely damaged French credibility in the South Pacific region at a time when it is pursuing an Indo-Pacific security strategy.” Are there any liberatory legal procedures in a settler colony that can legislate independence amicably, in something like an electoral handshake? Colonial Anachronism Robie called the state-sponsored violence a “colonial anachronism” of this day and age. Yet this reality persists across countless other regions of the world, where dispossessed peoples must overcome endless obstacles to prove their voices deserve legitimacy in the democratic process—even as they are actively erased from claiming authority over their indigenous identity. Perhaps most relevantly, Zionism stands as a prime example of a revisionist historical enterprise that simultaneously operates as a democratic ethnostate—one that, through violence and displacement, diminishes an indigenous population to render it democratically negligible. For there to be a Jewish democracy in the land of historic Palestine, the Palestinians there must cease to exist. The initial mechanisms of this disappearance were manifest in the atrocities of the Nakba. But later, throughout the 1950s and 1960s, a heavier emphasis was placed on the suppression of Palestinian political and social organizing. For example, Al-Ard , the first Palestinian party to attempt participation in the Israeli parliament (Knesset), was outlawed within years on fabricated and unfounded grounds. There could never be a fair playing field if democratically warranted self-determination is what one was after. It is even harder to accuse a state of engaging in the logic of elimination endemic to settler colonialism when it simply appears as though there are not enough indigenous people on this island in the Pacific—seldom making international headlines—for it to be a worthwhile pursuit. But proximity to the metropole should not be the criterion for concern over an indigenous group’s right to self-determination, or the pressure placed on the neocolonial state to secure that right—especially when it was, in effect, promised mere decades ago. As Dr. Chappell posed in conversation, “What if almost half the population of the United States, Canada, Australia, or New Zealand were indigenous? What kind of politics might result?” The logic of democracy—”one person, one vote”—negates the inviolable right of the colonized indigenous Kanak people to self-determination. Robie elaborates, “It merely ensures that the 'tyranny of the majority'—mostly imported French settlers—imposes its will over the Indigenous Kanak minority. French colonial policy has deliberately encouraged settlers from the metropole to migrate to New Caledonia to ensure the electoral disenfranchisement of the Kanaks.” Interestingly, but perhaps unsurprisingly, when it comes time to imagine solutions, few arise that are not at the behest of international institutions that have, in the context of the Kanaks, the Palestinians, and indigenous people around the world, fallen short in their ability to enforce international law or solidify paths towards self-determination. In Chappell’s words, “The UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous People gave them more ideas, but it allows only autonomy over resources and cultural rights for indigenous minorities—not independence from the territorial state.” Robie anticipated progress from a more localized approach of institutional action within the Pacific Island region. “The Pacific Islands Forum, Melanesian Spearhead Group, and the United Nations need to step up diplomatic and political pressure on France to change its course of action,” he said. "It is imperative," he argued, "for Paris to step back from its militarist approach and make a commitment to seeking a pathway for the Kanak self-determination aspirations.” The question remains: how much longer can France suppress Kanak self-determination before the façade of democracy collapses entirely?∎ 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 ZAHRA YARALI is an Iranian-American writer and researcher with interests at the nexus of gender, education, and Middle East studies. She is based in Murray, Kentucky. MAHNOOR AZEEM is an illustrator, writer, and recent graduate of the Savannah College of Art and Design. She is based in Lahore. Essay New Caledonia French Republic Indigenous Kanak Indigenous self-governance Protest Liberation Sovereignty Colonialism Displacement Kanaky Melanesia Imperialism Political Violence Violence Identity Catholicism Church Electoral Politics Erasure French State Erasure State Sanctioned Violence Repression Militarism Militant David Robie Freedom Civilian Unrest Mass Protests Organized Crime Movements Neoliberalism Disappearance Administrative Colony Exploitation Oceania Self-determination David Chappell Revolutionary Revolution 17th Century Decolonization Independence 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:

ART EDITOR Priyanka Kumar PRIYANKA KUMAR is an illustrator, visual artist, and creative head at Anchovy Press . She makes comics, prints and murals, and teaches illustration at the Maryland Institute College of Art, Baltimore. ART EDITOR WEBSITE INSTAGRAM TWITTER Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 LOAD MORE

Since his electoral victory in 2014, Narendra Modi’s Hindutva brigade has attempted to render Muslims invisible through hypervisibility. Mob-lynchings "don’t just happen” to Muslims. Thook Jihad is to be expected. By applying microscopic, misinformative attention to Muslim businesses, homes, and livelihoods throughout the country, the BJP has forced Indian Muslims to constantly create hideouts for their humanity. However, as Modi’s monumental loss in the recent Lok Sabha polls indicates, Muslims refusing to accept the social and psychological invisibilization are already leading the charge for a brighter electoral future. · FEATURES Opinion · Madhya Pradesh Since his electoral victory in 2014, Narendra Modi’s Hindutva brigade has attempted to render Muslims invisible through hypervisibility. Mob-lynchings "don’t just happen” to Muslims. Thook Jihad is to be expected. By applying microscopic, misinformative attention to Muslim businesses, homes, and livelihoods throughout the country, the BJP has forced Indian Muslims to constantly create hideouts for their humanity. However, as Modi’s monumental loss in the recent Lok Sabha polls indicates, Muslims refusing to accept the social and psychological invisibilization are already leading the charge for a brighter electoral future. Saara Nahar Play (2023) Watercolour on Paper 22 x 30 inches Bulldozing Democracy When I was a child I was fascinated by the bulldozer that visited my street everyday and picked up trash from a nearby dumpyard. Bulldozers served as a good spectacle for us kids. We were intrigued by its ability to pick tonnes of trash in a matter of minutes. If you look up the term, “JCB ki khudai” (Bulldozer digging) on YouTube , you'll find dozens of innocuous videos with millions of views. In recent years, however, that imagery has changed. Today, these bulldozers produce the most horrid spectacle for kids and adults alike. Many Indian Muslims see the bulldozer as akin to an armoured tank, a tool of terror, seeking to uproot what holds their families together and stores their tangible memories and artefacts—their home. In recent years, the bulldozer has transformed from a harmless machine to a super villain serving extrajudicial punishment to its victims without trial. What stands in the way of its unrelenting arm is “enemy” territory, and the bulldozer shows no mercy. A few months ago, a dozen Muslim homes were bulldozed in Madhya Pradesh for allegedly storing beef, and men were jailed under the NSA (National Security Act) in what many Muslims widely perceived as vengeful action by the state government. In July , a Muslim man committed suicide after his home was demolished in an anti-encroachment drive in Lucknow city in Uttar Pradesh, in which hundreds of homes were demolished in a Muslim majority neighborhood. The Indian state suggested that displaced people buy alternative housing, similar to their statements on resettlements in 2015 . Other adjoining posh neighbourhoods were also meant to be demolished but were spared after an intervention by leaders of the ruling BJP and protests by the locals. In August, a sprawling 20,000 square feet bungalow—that belonged to Haji Shahzad Ali, a Muslim and former leader of the Congress party in MP—was bulldozed after he was accused of violence. A 2024 estimate by the Housing and Land Rights Network ( HLRN ) shows that government at the local, state, and federal levels demolished 153,820 homes in 2022 and 2023, resulting in the forcible eviction of more than 738,438 people from rural and urban areas across the country. Muslims were among the worst victims of these bulldozer drives. Illegal housing is a prominent issue in India. Ghettoisation, socioeconomic inequality, and mass migration to metropolitan cities like Delhi and Mumbai adds to the problem of illegal housing. News outlets have reported between 55,000 and 65,000 illegal housing developments in India between 2016 and 2024. The issue becomes uniquely problematic when homes of Muslims are selectively targeted and are considered a fight against “ Land Jihad. ” Every now and then, there's news of a major demolition drive against the so-called “illegal homes” belonging to Muslims. Similar to the Haji Shahzad Ali case, the demolition is alleged to happen as a response to crime. Later, however, the public is informed that the demolition and the crime are unrelated, although the way it plays out is as explicit revenge. The mainstream media hails it as quick justice, all while the underlying principles of natural justice are openly violated. In November 2024, the Supreme Court of India finally passed a strong verdict against these arbitrary bulldozer drives putting an end to the retributive demolition drives, but by now much damage has already been wrought. What about those who’ve already fallen victims to this “lawlessness?” After every forced demolition and eviction, I used to wonder where these people are meant to disappear off to? They can't bury themselves underground or dive into the sea, but we hardly hear of them once the dust of the bulldozer's destruction settles. As much as this violence instils fear, it can never successfully lead to the psychological and physical retreat of an entire community. This may make you wonder—what is the best way to invisibilize over 200 million people? Bulldozing is only a symptom of the malaise that plagues India today—a cog in the larger machinery of violence. You cannot press a big red button and expect them to immediately disappear for once and all. You can’t erase them through force and violence. So, what do you do then? A real life solution to this rather troubling rhetorical question has been developed by the Hindutva nationalist forces, who relentlessly target Muslims throughout India. All while, encouraging non-Muslim citizens to distance themselves from the Muslims for their own safety. Let me demonstrate this with a recent example of the insidious way in which, through hypervisibility and violence, Muslims are forced to disappear from public life. A recent 'directive’ in the state of Uttar Pradesh asked eateries that were situated along the path of a Hindu pilgrimage to display their names. A move intended to make the “Muslim” identities of the servers, cooks, and owners clear to the buyers and discourage commerce. It started after an anti-Muslim boycott was called by a far-right Hindutva cleric, who accused Muslims of mixing meat in vegetarian food and thook jiha d —a conspiracy that Muslims spit in the food of Hindus to wage a holy war. Despite the dehumanising, absurd, and defamatory nature of this message, the state did nothing to counter the request and instead mandated shopkeepers to prominently display their names on their shops. Consequently, many Muslims were forced to shut down their shops to avoid conflict, police harassment, and mob attacks. Many faced economic losses. Some were fired by their employers after allegedly being pressured by the police. It's important to note that Uttar Pradesh is opposed to Halal food certification, which is limited to the nature of food (vegetarian or non-vegetarian) and not the identity of the person cooking, serving, or selling it. The government knows that most things that are Halal for Muslims are permissible for Hindus as well, and nobody can stop Hindus from selling them. Here, however, the state was adamant that merely displaying the religious identity of vendors and cooks can ensure the purity of food and protect the religious rights of Hindu devotees. The process is simple. First, a campaign is initiated to make Muslims seem impure, unhygienic, and Thook jihadists. Naturally, Muslims are compelled to refute these false narratives. Due to the meat sales facing on and off bans, many Muslim businesses already suffer without any compensation. To rub salt in the wound, Muslims who run vegetarian eateries get accused of mixing meat in the food. Subsequently, a demand for segregation is imposed, and Muslim businesses are singled out, marked as targets by the state—by the very state that falsely claims to be against mixing the rules of food with the rules of religion. Where's the escape from all this? It's a heads-you-lose and tails-I-win dynamic. If you’re a Muslim, you can't cook meat on holy days for Hindus. If you do then you are probably mocking someone. If you don't, then you are conspiring to pollute vegetarians. You’ll be targeted either way. While the order has faced backlash, and has now been stayed by the Supreme court, it's not a one-off instance. In the last decade, we have witnessed this strategy play out in real time with the spread of an all pervasive vitriol that targets every aspect of Muslim life in India—from the God they pray to, to the clothes they wear, the food they eat, the language they speak, and now their homes, jobs, and families. What is supposed to be an innocuous and essential activity for others becomes a malicious conspiracy for Muslims. Undoubtedly, this humiliation has been sustained through violence and victim blaming. In one month since the election results were declared on June 4 , at least 12 Muslim men were brutally lynched across India. Perhaps, even most Muslims with no knowledge of English now know the meaning of the rather complex English word ‘lynching’. It's something that worries all of them and yet it has gradually become so mundane that it outrages only a few of them. After the recent wave of attacks, many Muslims questioned the silence of a now significantly stronger opposition party and even forced them to raise their voice in Parliament. For the opposition parties, however, this silence was a matter of convenience. In the past, they sought Muslim votes by acknowledging the threat of Hindutva, but continued to do nothing. They gaslit Muslims into not saying a word. For their voices to be heard, Muslims need to make their votes count and use every platform to organise, speak, and negotiate. Modi's reduced numbers in the parliament in 2024 has already proven this. The growing menace that systematically works to erase Muslim voices from the national discourse through various forms of terror is comprehensive. Sometimes it is done through withholding online content and other times through threats and legal cases. This is what happened with the fact checker, Mohammad Zubair , who was arrested in six consecutive trumped up cases. He was recently booked under sedition for exposing a hate speech. Note here that the severity of action against the hatemonger is nothing compared to the charges against Zubair. In August 2024, two Muslim migrant workers from West Bengal were attacked by a mob of cow vigilantes in Haryana. One of them succumbed to his injuries. The other , however, managed to escape. Haryana Chief Minister Nayab Singh Saini said that "It is not right to call it mob lynching,” because beef is illegal in Haryana. We don't know how the CM assumed that the two men had consumed beef. Around the same time, an elderly man was assaulted in a moving train by a mob on accusations of eating beef. On July 6 2024, the police in Uttar Pradesh booked two Muslim journalists for calling the murder of a Muslim man a ‘mob-lynching’. They were charged for creating communal unrest through malicious misreportage. All they did was report the family's version of the event. This is not an isolated incident in which those reporting on violence against Muslims have been targeted. On one hand, the Indian government has stopped publishing data on lynchings after calling its own methodology unreliable and on the other it attacks and tries to discredit every voice that investigates it. The few voices reporting on the lynchings are facing threats and censorship, gradually forcing them into silence. Indian Muslims see meanings twisted out of context everyday. For instance, a lynching is not reported as a lynching. Instead, it’s reported as the response to or punishment for a “robbery,” “child kidnapping”, or something similar. At the same time, a group of prominent right-wing clerics openly calling for genocide is dismissed and those calling them out might be booked under criminal charges. Reporting on this type of speech is considered “disturbing the peace.” The mainstream media has also shown little interest in these cases. The last decade saw a wave of hateful attacks through the news, social media, films, poetry, and music, to further invisibilise Muslims. Hate speeches are not confined to obscure corners, they dominate public discourse and are amplified by TV anchors and prominent social media influencers. A recent Human Rights Watch report pointed out that 110 out of 173 poll speeches by PM Modi contained Islamophobic remarks. Modi referred to Muslims as infiltrators and people producing more children. He even alleged that if the opposition won power, they'll give away the gold of Hindu women including their Mangalsutras to Muslims. Throughout the polls, BJP constantly published cartoons depicting Muslims as evil people eyeing the resources that belonged to Hindus. The PM’s message trickled down into the abyss of the bottomless cesspit, leading to more unhinged commentary by other leaders. This kind of hate mongering during elections is a first for India. It's a culmination of years of propaganda by WhatsApp troll armies and TV anchors like Suresh Chavhanke who dehumanise Muslims on live TV, and clerics like Yati Narsinghanand Giri who openly support the idea of a genocide of Muslims. The combination of these tactics seeks to marginalise Muslims and to systematically erase their presence in public life. The burden of proof and the onus to act in an "acceptable" way disproportionately falls on the Muslims. If they protest or turn bitter, that would reinforce negative stereotypes. Muslims must stay aware of these traps and not become silent. Be it the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA) protests or the biggest political upset of Mr Modi's career in the recent Lok Sabha polls–in which he lost the majority in the parliament–Muslims have played a great role in these pushbacks. They have displayed resilience and resistance on many occasions which proves that they haven't given up on their citizenship. So, silence should not be an option. As a strategy, it is suicidal. Instead, they need to make their presence felt and reclaim public space. They must seek accountability from both the ruling party, as well as the opposition they voted for in large numbers. It's hard to predict how Muslims can break this cycle of violence and propaganda but what is clear is that they'll have to firmly stand up for themselves first if they want others to join them. SUB-HEAD Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Opinion Madhya Pradesh Demolition Uttar Pradesh Hindu Extremism Hindu Fascism Hindutva Thook Jihad Halal Muslim invisibility hypervisibility Invisibilizing Muslims Citizenship Amendment Act mob-lynching Dehumanization Land jihad bulldozing bulldozers Ghettoisation Ghettoization illegal homes BJP National Security Act Religious Conflict religious divide Lok Sabha Archive of Absence Career Politicians Modi Civil Society Displacement Economy Vendors Construction Despotism Disappearance Dissent Enforced Disappearances Extrajudicial Killings Execution Forced Disappearance Ghost Workers Human Rights Violations India democratic backsliding nationalism democracy housing urban development 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. 10th Jan 2025 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:

“How do you laugh at untrammeled power? Either you are completely terrorized by it, or you completely delegitimize its authority by laughing in its face and doing the most absurd things.” | · COMMUNITY Interview · Chennai Experimentalism in the Face of Fascism “How do you laugh at untrammeled power? Either you are completely terrorized by it, or you completely delegitimize its authority by laughing in its face and doing the most absurd things.” Watch the interview on YouTube or IGTV. RECOMMENDED: The Orders Were to Rape You: Tigresses in the Tamil Eelam Struggle , the newest book by Meena Kandasamy (Navayana, 2021). SUB-HEAD Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Interview Chennai Sociolinguistics Avant-Garde Form Experimental Methods Dalit Literature Dalit Histories Indian Fascism Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam Tamil Tigers Auto-Fiction Bhima Koregaon Marxist Theory André Breton Absurdity Explanation Affect Translation Tamil Eelam Personal History Failure Narrative Structure 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. 7th Sep 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:

Wielding terror and fear in the absence of credibility, extrajudicial detention is a defining strategy of political terror. In this comprehensive survey of the tactics of illegal detention employed by the American, Israeli, and Assad regimes, enforced disappearance emerges as the swan song of decaying empires on the brink of collapse. · FEATURES Essay · Syria Wielding terror and fear in the absence of credibility, extrajudicial detention is a defining strategy of political terror. In this comprehensive survey of the tactics of illegal detention employed by the American, Israeli, and Assad regimes, enforced disappearance emerges as the swan song of decaying empires on the brink of collapse. Jacobo Alonso, Periplo - Safe Migration (2024). 18 laser-cut modules of polyester felt, 300cm each. Damnatio Memoriae In his Prison Notebooks , Gramsci describes the interregnum of a dying civilization as it gives birth to a new state order. “Now,” he writes, “is the time of monsters.” In our time of monsters, enforced disappearance reemerges as an extrajudicial tool for “extraordinary” times. Such Orwellian simplicity belies the systematic practice of one of the worst crimes of the twenty-first century. Millions of people across the globe have disappeared in political terror schemes as part of a practice that has only increased over the last few decades, tied to the wars of the current era. Enforced disappearance is a crime distinct even from arbitrary detention or mass incarceration–rather than leveraging the known carceral architectures of the state, enforced disappearance relies on parallel hidden networks created to remove someone entirely from visibility. The International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearance formally defines the practice as: the “arrest, detention, abduction, or any other form of deprivation of liberty” by state or para-state agents followed by the state’s “refusal to acknowledge the deprivation of liberty or by concealment of the fate or whereabouts of the disappeared person, which place such a person outside the protection of the law.” There are no exceptions to this protection under international law. The practice of enforced disappearance, when widespread or systematic, constitutes its own independent crime against humanity. While kidnapping by the state is deemed extrajudicial—exceeding boundaries of the law and the ordinary—the state, in emergency, engages in the conspiracy to kidnap with impunity. Total wars waged by imperial powers abroad, dictatorial regimes within, and occupying powers against indigenous populations deploy enforced disappearance as a defining strategy of political terror. Three contemporary cases exemplify, even define, each horrific model: the U.S.’s global war on terror, the Assad regime in Syria, and the Israeli genocide in Gaza. In each case, the carceral architectures of the state or occupying power expanded grossly in wartime settings to conduct systematic disappearance campaigns against tens and hundreds of thousands of people. Such campaigns were inevitably, and by design, tied to a litany of other crimes including torture, sexual violence, arbitrary detention, collective punishment, and extrajudicial killing. Collectively, they represent among the worst cases of enforced disappearance in this century. An Archipelago of Disappearance: the U.S. Global War on Terror In 2001, the United States launched its ‘global war on terror,’ initiating a new mode of warfare for the many imperial wars and military campaigns fought thereafter, including the U.S. invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan, and the expansive military campaigns undertaken in the Middle East, North and East Africa, and Southeast Asia. As part of this global war, the U.S. developed a conglomerate of overseas carceral architectures to facilitate the capture and detention of individuals across territorial borders or even arenas of war. The physical infrastructure of these architectures were created in tandem with new legal arguments inventing new categories of persons—i.e., the “unlawful combatant”—to systematically deprive those taken of their fundamental rights and protections. In Iraq and Afghanistan, these structures took on more traditional forms of carceral architectures under foreign military occupation: military detention camps, internment facilities, and converted prisons run by U.S. and coalition forces. Hundreds of thousands of Iraqis and Afghans, overwhelmingly civilians, were captured and held indefinitely without charge. One report puts the total number of Iraqis arrested in the first five years of the invasion alone at 200,000, of whom 96,000 spent time in U.S.-run prisons and camps. Their capture under the new “unlawful combatants” regime stripped them of age-old prisoner of war protections under the Geneva Conventions. Arbitrary detention, torture, abuse, and sexual violence were widespread and systematic in these prisons, cemented in infamy by Abu Ghraib in Iraq and Bagram in Afghanistan. ‘ De facto’ disappearance, first termed in a 2004 ICRC report , was endemic to the mass detention campaigns undertaken by U.S. forces, who rarely informed the detained individual or their family where or how long they would be taken. Beyond the localized carceral architectures in Iraq and Afghanistan, the United States, as part of a broader war aim superseding delineated boundaries and war zones, created new extraterritorial carceral architectures to facilitate the forcible disappearance of hundreds of Muslim men and boys. Perhaps no site symbolizes this more than the notorious penal colony in Guantánamo Bay. Yet it was not the only one. Between 2001 and 2009, the CIA Rendition, Detention, and Interrogation Program ran a transnational network of covert prisons, known as black sites, for the secret detention and brutal torture of men captured in the “war on terror.” Euphemisms served as a doublespeak to conceal a secret disappearance scheme of an unprecedented transnational scope. “Rendition” was the act of enforced disappearance, “detention,” secret and incommunicado, and “interrogation,” simply torture. The locations of the secret prisons remain classified. Information that has been declassified is enough to paint a macabre network of torture sites across the world. Some sites were run entirely by local “host” nations, some collaborated with local security forces, and others remained under exclusive American control on foreign territory. Men captured and transferred to CIA custody were “rendered” across black sites, in what a Guantánamo defense lawyer once described as an “international criminal enterprise” of human trafficking between foreign “torture pits.” According to the U.S. Senate report on torture, at least 119 men were known to have been held in the CIA torture program. Torture in the black sites, authorized by secret legal memos written by the U.S. Department of Justice, took on perverse and methodical forms including waterboarding, sleep deprivation, walling, sodomy, mock executions, and pure human experimentation. At least one detainee died in CIA custody; no exact number is known. An untold number of individuals died in U.S. custody elsewhere in Iraq and Afghanistan. Then there is Guantánamo, the most infamous and enduring piece of the extraterritorial carceral architecture created in the U.S.’s global war on terror. A prison island—or, more accurately, an American penal colony on Cuban territory—the military detention camp encompassed the most diverse population of Muslim men and boys captured by U.S. or allied forces and disappeared across seas. Nearly eight hundred men from 48 countries were held in Guantánamo. When the prison first opened in 2002, only the nationalities of prisoners were disclosed. In 2004, the U.S. began revealing the names of the men and boys held, propelling efforts by international organizations, monitoring groups, and civil society to represent the men and contact their families. Testimony by survivors reveal the physical and psychological torture endemic to the first several years of the camp. Two decades of domestic and global backlash, litigation, and advocacy campaigns forced the release of most of the men. Twenty-seven prisoners still remain , including sixteen approved for transfer and three “forever prisoners.” Each carceral site or network in Iraq, Afghanistan, Cuba, or undisclosed locations across the world did not operate in isolation. Rather, they formed parallel and at times intersecting networks under the U.S.’s global war on terror. Many Muslim men captured and held in the U.S. military detention center in Bagram, Afghanistan, or tortured in CIA black sites, for example, were sent to Guantánamo. For many, the revolving door between carceral institutions across nations continued even after release. In this era, the U.S. pioneered powerful models of war and propaganda to conceal and acquit a disappearance and torture campaign amounting to war crimes and crimes against humanity under international law. Their proclaimed success foretold models others sought to follow. "Apátrida / Stateless" (2024), performance, isothermal emergency flag, 210x180cm. Courtesy of Jacobo Alonso. Annihilation and Enforced Disappearance in Syria Post-2011 Enforced disappearance has deep roots in Syria, practiced for decades under the Assad regime of both father and son—Hafez and Bashar al-Assad. Political dissidents, activists, and their relatives were routinely disappeared in secret intelligence and military prisons across Syria. These numbers first climaxed in the late 1970s and early 1980s under the reign of Hafez al-Assad, when tens of thousands of Syrians were disappeared in a systematic campaign culminating in the Tadmur prison massacre of 1980 and the Hama massacre of 1982. By then, Syrian prisons had gained a reputation for depravity, torture, and extrajudicial killings in an Arab world dominated by carceral states. The regime, entrenched in permanent ‘emergency’ doctrines and past successes quelling rebellion, was primed to respond existentially to any threat to its rule. In March 2011, a popular revolution arose in Syria, as Syrians joined the wave of Arab revolutions unfolding in the region. The response of the son mimicked the father: a total campaign of arrests, indiscriminate killings, siege, and collective punishment. In post-2001 fashion, Bashar borrowed the discourse du jour of an existential ‘war on terror’ necessitating extreme violence to ensure internal state survival. The results of the ensuing war were catastrophic: at least 350,000 Syrians were killed , 14 million displaced , and 155,000 forcibly disappeared . In this war, enforced disappearance became a primary tactic of state political terror and collective punishment. An integrated military-intelligence regime targeted civilians for mass arrest and torture. Hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children were kidnapped during protests, at military checkpoints, schools, hospitals, and from their homes, held incommunicado, and subject to horrific physical and psychological torture, including rape and sexual violence. The carceral architecture of the state expanded vastly to absorb the sheer volume of detainees. Military field courts issued interminable prison sentences and thousands of extrajudicial death sentences in secret trials lasting minutes. Sites like Tadmur military prison, closed in 2001, were reopened in 2011 to hold new populations of prisoners. The disappeared did not vanish in the fog of war. Smuggled documents, photos, and testimonies by survivors, defectors, and witnesses alike prove a meticulous record of the regime’s own systematic disappearance scheme. As early as 2014, the ‘Caesar’ photographs revealed over 28,000 pictures smuggled out by a military forensic photographer tasked with documenting the deaths of those killed in regime detention centers. The pictures evidence a perverse organizational scheme run by the state with bodies clearly marked by torture. State documentation and witness testimony elsewhere further uncovered the secret network of military hospitals, military-intelligence branches, ad-hoc detention sites, and prisons responsible for directing the arrest, torture, and killings of hundreds of thousands of civilians. In 2016, Amnesty International collaborated with Forensic Architecture to create the first 3D model of one such site: the infamous death chambers of Saydnaya Military Prison, where a then-estimated 13,000 prisoners were executed. Silence imposed on prisoners held in Saydnaya became a crude weapon of torture by the regime. Digital reconstruction of Saydnaya relied on architectural and acoustic modeling based on interviews with four survivors in a counter mapping effort that sought to break down both the physical and psychological architecture of silence imposed by disappearance. It was a powerful disruption to a structure that, until mere weeks ago, was impervious to time or human cost. The regime, backed by an impunity ‘won’ territorially in a war of annihilation, began issuing hundreds of death certificates for prisoners disappeared years earlier. Families who received the certificates were denied access to their bodies or any other means of verification. Enforced disappearance became its own phenomenon in Syria, spurring countless UN reports and proposed mechanisms that were all but paralyzed in achieving any resolution or accountability. In November 2023, the International Court of Justice issued a ruling against Syria, recognizing enforced disappearance as a violation of the Convention Against Torture, but fell short of ordering specific measures such as providing information of detainees’ whereabouts or allowing access to independent monitors. Elsewhere in Europe, former Syrian detainees and families of the disappeared pursued new avenues of accountability to bring individual perpetrators to account. In 2020, the first trial dealing with state torture in Syria took place in Germany against two former state officials who were convicted of crimes against humanity for their role in overseeing torture, sexual violence, forced imprisonment, and extrajudicial killings. As the fight for Syria’s disappeared stagnated, a Syrian rebel offensive launched in late November radically shifted the territorial status quo, culminating in the overthrow of the Assad regime ten days later. The liberation of each city was marked by the liberation of each prison within it, a metaphor physically upended by the breaking of each cell door. Once at Saydnaya, excavation teams worked for days to secure the release of the remaining detainees, some in levels below ground, captivating a nation scrambling to find their loved ones. Even now, the fate of over 100,000 detainees remains unknown . Enforced Disappearance As Genocide: Gaza After October 7 In Palestine, carcerality fundamentally underpins Israel’s settler-colonial project. Military occupation and an expansive apartheid regime form the larger prison within which the physical carceral architecture organizes the mass incarceration of hundreds of thousands of Palestinians. Since 1967, over 850,000 Palestinians have been arrested and imprisoned under the auspices of the Israeli military judicial system, the central mechanism of the occupation ruling over the West Bank and Gaza. Under this system, civilians are routinely arrested and tried according to an expanding set of Israeli military orders in military courts at a conviction rate of over 99%. Hundreds more are held indefinitely without charge or trial under administrative detention. It is a system bound up in innumerable individual human rights violations—arbitrary detention, fair trial violations, torture, forced deportation, the systematic prosecution of children—amid larger war crimes and crimes against humanity. One of them is the crime against humanity of apartheid. International human rights organizations and UN reports all describe dual legal regimes—military courts for Palestinians and civilian courts for Israeli settlers—that systematically privilege one racial group over another in a broader policy of domination and control under an apartheid regime. Other war crimes include the widespread prosecution of Palestinian civilians in military courts, the intentional deprivation of their right to a fair trial, the deportation of the occupied population to prisons and detention centers in the occupying power, and torture . Enforced disappearance comprises yet another feature of the Israeli carceral regime. Disappearance predates the creation of the military judicial system in 1967 and continued as an intermittent practice over the next several decades, often disguised by a patchwork of legal frameworks. In 2002, the Israeli Knesset passed the Unlawful Combatants Law , modeled after its U.S. post-9/11 predecessor , to retroactively legitimate the indefinite detention of Lebanese hostages. Three years later, the same law was applied to Palestinians from Gaza, enabling periods of secret and indefinite detention constituting de facto disappearance. More sinisterly, it laid the legal and structural groundwork for the total war on prisoners waged today. In retaliation to the breach of Gaza’s open-air prison on October 7, the Israeli regime issued a series of orders dramatically expanding its carceral architecture as it launched its genocidal war on Gaza. Palestinian prisoners held in Israeli prisons were cut off from almost all outside contact as conditions drastically deteriorated, prisoner abuse escalated, and Israeli occupation forces ramped up arrests across the occupied territory. Emergency amendments to the 2002 Unlawful Combatants Law broadened the scope of secret detention, which Israeli authorities immediately leveraged against the Gazan population. New secret military detention camps were erected exclusively to detain Gazans: Sde Teiman in the south and Anatot near Jerusalem. Elsewhere at Ofer Military Prison, Gazan detainees were cordoned off to open-air tent camps and the secret wing of Section 23 , held incommunicado, and hidden even from the larger Palestinian prisoner population. Beyond the known existence of these three sites, Israeli occupation forces disappeared thousands of Gazan men, women, and children across makeshift military barracks, settlements, prisons, hospitals, and open fields. The new clandestine regime served as an appendage to Israel’s larger carceral architecture. Whistleblower reports and testimonies by former detainees point to an integrated network of horrific torture camps across Palestine’s occupied geography. Among them, Sde Teiman stands as an emblem of the torture and abuse of Palestinian detainees, acquiring the same diseased colonial reputation of Abu Ghraib. Palestinians held in Sde Teiman are kept blindfolded in barbed wire ‘pens,’ starved, severely beaten, and subject to interrogations and torture that include electrocution, sexual violence, rape, waterboarding, and medical experimentation. In an adjoining ‘field hospital,’ injured Palestinian detainees were tied to hospital beds and practiced on by medical staff. Elsewhere across Israeli prisons and detention camps, Palestinian prisoners were subject to the same practices of torture, starvation, and deliberate medical negligence. The crime of enforced disappearance is central to the larger crime of genocide, a conclusion outlined months ago by Palestinian human rights groups and echoed in Amnesty’s latest report . Disappearance, like genocide, is practiced methodically: the population of Gaza is physically tagged, catalogued, and, if not forcibly displaced or killed , disappeared to unknown sites. Numbers accounting for the full magnitude of these crimes are still unknown, ranging between the tens and hundreds of thousands. They are, at the time of this writing, enduring crimes of no known boundaries. In October 2024, shortly after Israel launched its full war on Lebanon, a new amendment to the Unlawful Combatants Law designated two new military camps for detention in the north, prompting concerns they may be used to hold Lebanese detainees. This is the circular expansion of a law that first sought to legitimate the enforced disappearance of Lebanese detainees twenty-two years ago and which commandeers the legal architecture of disappearance today. The fate of the disappeared and detained remains central to ceasefire negotiations and emerging forums of accountability. "UN-Safe Migration" (2024), Polyester felt and laser cut fabric installation. Courtesy of Jacobo Alonso. The disappeared, in their absence, loom large over the present. Impunity granted to one political terror scheme emboldens another, cementing permanent states of emergency and creating varied national, transnational, and extranational architectures of disappearance. They are examples of a twenty-first century reality with the potential to produce even more destructive results, leveraging evolving surveillance technologies and age-old carceral traditions. It is an inevitability readily taken for granted; an inevitability, too, that serves the fear intended by these schemes. And yet, the enormity of resources required to sustain the secret disappearance of tens of thousands of people ultimately fail under their own grandiosity. The secrecy and structures of such crimes are untenable, even as they undeniably produce incalculable human loss. Our current moment only proves their frailty. Across the globe, the edifices of once horrific sites are being quietly shuttered by the state or actively dismantled by popular forces in the face of enduring local and global resistance. As Guantánamo turns twenty-three this month, another eleven Yemeni detainees held without charge were transferred to Oman, leaving only fifteen men remaining. In Palestine, the fight for tabyeed el-sujoun —to ‘cleanse the prison walls’—is carried on across all fronts by resistance groups, civil society, and transnational coalitions, including prisoners’ coalitions in the U.S. The breaking of prison doors in Syria, inspiring renewed efforts in places like Egypt , now beckons the daunting task of what comes after. New modes of documentation, accountability, and rehabilitation seek to tackle the crime of disappearance, with a particular focus on the survivors and families of the disappeared. The future of these structures, whether carcerality may emerge in new forms, will always remain a threat to the hard-won achievements of the present. Nevertheless, a rupture of a sort has begun, and the seam must be unraveled to its end. ∎ SUB-HEAD Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Essay Syria Enforced Disappearances Disappearance Dissent Discourses of War Forced Disappearance Guantanamo Bay Gitmo Alienation Archive of Absence Archive Assad Regime Israeli Regime Sedneya Sednaya Prison Sde Teiman detention carcerality 9/11 post-9/11 world order prisoner's coalitions Hama War on Terror War Crimes CIA Abu Ghraib unlawful combatant Muslim Invisibilizing Muslims West Bank Gaza Palestine fair trial unfair trial Unlawful Combatants Law Anatot Nageb Ofer Military Prison 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. 22nd Jan 2025 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:

MUSICIAN Zeinab Shaath ZEINAB SHAATH is a Palestinian-Egyptian singer-songwriter. She is known for the song "The Urgent Call of Palestine", released in 1972. MUSICIAN WEBSITE INSTAGRAM TWITTER Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 LOAD MORE

Sudan’s ongoing war, which erupted in April 2023 between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), has devastated the country, displacing millions and crippling public services. Civilian-led groups, particularly the Resistance Committees (RCs) and professional unions, continue to provide humanitarian aid despite severe repression, learning from the rich history of Sudanese unions active since the 20th century. Today, emergency committees and medical unions work tirelessly to support war victims, exemplifying resilience amid chaos. Their struggle highlights a stark contrast between civilian solidarity and military destruction. Sudan’s ongoing war, which erupted in April 2023 between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), has devastated the country, displacing millions and crippling public services. Civilian-led groups, particularly the Resistance Committees (RCs) and professional unions, continue to provide humanitarian aid despite severe repression, learning from the rich history of Sudanese unions active since the 20th century. Today, emergency committees and medical unions work tirelessly to support war victims, exemplifying resilience amid chaos. Their struggle highlights a stark contrast between civilian solidarity and military destruction. Hashim Nasr, Boxed (2022). Digital photograph. Artist · THE VERTICAL REPORTAGE · LOCATION Through Thick and Thin LOCATION Amira Ahmed . 23 Feb 2025 rd . Letter from our columnist . On April 15, 2023, one of Sudan's most brutal wars erupted between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF). This signaled a collapse of the alliance between two-armed factions. Even before the April fallout and subsequent war, their armed alliance had brought nothing to the Sudanese people but bloodshed and death; the alliance staged the military coup in October 2021 that terminated the civilian-military power-sharing agreement known as the Transitional Government which was installed in the wake of the December Revolution in 2018 . The Transitional Government (2019-2021) was composed of both military and civilians, with a rotating presidency that started with the military. The December Revolution was primarily led by millions of youths, particularly women, called the “Resistance Committees” (RCs). Although lacking in direct organizational links with the existing civilian groups, the RCs coordinated their mass protest actions very closely with them, particularly the Sudanese Professional Association . Remnants of Sudan’s Islamist military dictatorship (1989-2019) comprised two factions that had each previously attempted to seize power in the country. Working together, on June 3rd 2019, they enacted the most heinous massacre . Hundreds of peaceful protesters were brutalized, raped, drowned, and killed. On June 30th, 2019, under the combined leadership of civilian groups, millions of Sudanese took to the streets, demanding accountability for the massacres and a full transfer of power to civilians. The military eventually relented, resulting in the civilian-military power sharing agreement in August 2019. This illegitimate and violent political transformation has led to the ongoing war which has resulted in hundreds of thousands of deaths, over 12 million internally displaced persons (IDPs), and over three million refugees in neighboring countries. As the war has intensified since April 2023, the total repression of civilian activism has destroyed health, education, municipal and other civilian infrastructure, and deepened the economic crisis. In immediate response to the war, Sudan’s Resistance Committees (RCs) have morphed into Emergency Committees (ECs), while abroad, Sudanese communities collectively mobilize resources to save lives and restore livelihoods destroyed by the war. There are now numerous humanitarian, educational, and professional activities, both inside and outside Sudan seeking to help those most affected by war. Although repression inside Sudan and the lack of formal status outside Sudan limits this organizing, the collectives nevertheless strive to implement what they can. They continue to play a major role in organizing assistance and representing the Sudanese people at humanitarian and ceasefire negotiations mediated by international entities. With unwavering determination, the humanitarian aid effort by Sudan’s civilian bodies shines amidst the darkness of this horrific war. With the disintegration of the state apparatus and the collapse of public services, the RCs face highly complex challenges. Attempting to regroup and organize their membership, they continue to provide services to millions of displaced Sudanese people. Thus, a stark contrast emerges. While the military forces continue their war against each other and on the country’s resources, civil forces race to save what can be saved. These civilian forces continue amidst severe repression, killing, forced disappearances, illegal detention, torture, rape, and ethnic cleansing. The History of Trade Unions in Sudan As a central organizing force, political parties, civil society organizations, professional associations, and trade unions draw upon a long tradition of highly active political engagement that started before Sudan’s independence in 1956. Sudan has had union organizations since the early 20th century. In 1908, forest workers under British-Egyptian colonial rule, announced a strike demanding better wages and working conditions. In 1947, the first union of railway workers was established. As a result of the pressure exerted by the union movement, colonial authorities conceded the right to union organization. A labor law was issued in 1948, granting the Sudanese union movement legal status. By becoming a primary force in resisting and changing authoritarian regimes, however, the movement became a target of colonial oppression. One of the earliest decisions in subsequent military coups was the dissolution of existing unions, confiscating their properties and funds. By mobilizing their members, the unions quickly regained their strength and ability to lead. The Front of Associations (a coalition of professional, labor, and farmers' unions) led the October 1964 revolution , dominating a seat majority in the first transitional government, before being overthrown by infighting. Led by the Union Alliance, unions played a prominent role in the April 1985 uprising and the downfall of the Jaafar Nimeiri dictatorship regime. Omer Al-Bashir’s regime in 1989 resisted workers’ attempts at unionization—seeking to dismantle and control them by dismissing employees through the Public Interest Law. The labor movements, however, were ceaseless. Following the successful Sudanese Doctors Union strike of November 1989 , several professional associations organized strikes and protests in 1994 and 1996. They also continued efforts with regional and international organizations to isolate the military regime and its façade of regime-friendly unions. Therefore, during the 30 years of the Islamist military dictatorship, trade unions and associations operated through professional bodies which were strategically founded to counter the regime’s compliant civilian bodies and trade unions. In 2005, following the signing of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement between the military dictatorship and the Sudan People's Liberation Army/Movement (SPLA/M), Sudan witnessed a relative expansion of political space and public sector workers showed increased interest in unionization. Medical bodies inside and outside Sudan organized networking and coordination. Lawyers' organizations confronted repressive laws and defended public freedoms. Journalists exposed and documented violations, defending freedom of expression. Teachers gathered to address wage issues and demanded educational reform. The Sudanese Professionals Association (SPA) served as the unifying platform leading the Revolution for the downfall of the Islamist dictatorship regime, especially when the-then SPA joined political and civil society organizations to create the opposition platform called Forces of Freedom and Change (FFC) . The 2019 post-revolution transitional phase represented a glimmer of hope. Institutions were being rebuilt, preparing the country for a democratic transition . Most professional bodies sought to gain legitimacy by organizing member elections. Some of them, like the Sudanese Journalists' Union (SJU) and the Sudanese Doctors Union (SDU) succeeded in completing free and fair internal elections. Many believe that the October 2021 coup was staged by SAF and RSF precisely due to the rising tide of organized and elected professional associations and trade unions. The Birth of the Sudanese Professionals Association Actual collaboration among opposing union factions began with the rise of popular resistance against the Inqaz or the NCP regime, especially after South Sudan's secession and the 2010 election and following economic collapse. Professional and other civilian groups started organizing their bases to hold democratic grassroot union elections. They also worked to establish effective union alliances to challenge the regime's policies and its monopoly over power and political decisions. This culminated in the formation of what was then known as the Sudanese Professionals Union in 2012 (later called the Sudanese Professionals Association or SPA in 2013) through joint coordination between the Teachers' Committee, the Sudanese Journalists Network, the legitimate Sudanese Doctors' Union, and the Democratic Lawyers' Association. The SPA page on Facebook , which played a crucial role in the December 2018 Revolution, was created towards the end of 2012. Starting approximately in 2016, the professional forces that eventually formed the nucleus of the SPA continued expanding their coalition as an anti-Inqaz political front. They continued to link their presence to specific labor demands, gaining more support. Simultaneously, civilian unrest and discontent with the Inqaz regime was boiling under the surface until it exploded. First, in September 2013 (heavily repressed by the Inqaz/NCP regime) and then, more successfully, between 13 December 2018 and 6 April 2019. Importantly, these peaceful mass protests started by RCs in the city of Mayirno (Sennar State) spread to the RCs in Atbara (River Nile State), Damazin (Blue Nile State), before blazing across Sudan.This rising tide of protests was mutually-synergistic between the SPA and the RCs movements. The SPA and RCs quickly adjusted their demands from merely raising the minimum wage and protesting against the rising cost of living, to instead calling for continuous marches aiming to entirely overthrow the Inqaz/NCP regime. Taking the lead in the December Revolution, the SPA and the RCs participated in developing the charter of the Forces for Freedom and Change (FFC) on 1 January 2019 which adopted the RCs and SPA slogan of “freedom, peace, and justice.” These efforts culminated in the fall of the tyrant Omar al-Bashir on 11 April 2019 and continued throughout the transitional period that followed. Unfortunately, when the SPA’s constituent bodies began union-building processes, their lack of recent practical experience in union work and managing political conflicts, led to the disintegration of the FFC, with disruptive impacts on the SPA and other civilian bodies. The political alliances represented by the FFC began disagreeing on priorities. The RCs wanted to prioritize the creation of the Transitional Legislative Assembly; however, other political parties and professional associations did not see it as a priority. These disagreements deepened and widened, negatively impacting the civilian front. On August 30, 2022, in a historic step, Sudanese Journalist Union announced the successful election of their first post-Inqaz committee, followed by the Sudanese Dramatists Union. The Sudanese Doctors Union was reestablished in March 2023—just weeks before the war broke out mid-April 2023. The Resistance Committees: An Inspiring Experience The initiation and driving force behind the December Revolution is attributed to the most recent type of civilian body in Sudanese politics the RCs which also included the Coordination Committees of IDP camps in Darfur. RCs are unique grassroots organizations formed at the neighborhood level, which expanded to cities and different Sudanese states. They deliberately retain their horizontal nature and firmly reject hierarchical leadership, in order to avoid infiltration by the authorities or political factions. The presence of RCs has played a decisive role in keeping the flame of the revolution alive. The RCs formulated a comprehensive political vision, embodied in the “ People's Power Charter .” The Charter’s first draft was released for discussion in January 2022, underwent public discussions, and was revised in March 2022. Despite prevailing political divisions among FFC’s political forces and the military coup's control of power, the RC’s People’s Power Charter generated a significant amount of debate. The RCs played a more significant role in the political scene, surpassing the leadership of traditional civilian bodies (parties and unions), by supporting but also holding accountable the transitional government, and working within local governance structures. Undermining Inqaz/NCP supporters at the state level, RCs took on the responsibility of monitoring the flow of commodities such as flour, gasoline, diesel, and cooking gas. They contributed to resolving the transportation crisis, power outages, and other artificially created crises. This led to defeating the Inqaz regime’s black marketeers. The War: Massive Responsibilities Throughout the transition period, a widespread civil movement spread—undeterred by the October 2021 coup. Instead, professional unions and RCs regarded themselves as a primary tool of people power in the civil-military conflict. The union bodies, led by the preparatory committee of the newly formed Sudanese Doctors Union (SDU), established Emergency Rooms, communal shelters for IDPs, communal kitchens, and neighborhood mutual aid under the leadership of the RCs. These Emergency Rooms continue to provide life-saving food, water, medicine, and urgent supplies to millions of war-affected people, as well as the millions of IDPs fleeing the war. Similarly, the SPA’s constituent professional unions have intensified their efforts towards denouncing the war, calling for peace, providing basic humanitarian aid, exposing and documenting gross human rights violations and war crimes, defending activists detained in war zones, and organizing campaigns to stop the war and aid those affected, both inside and outside Sudan. Some professional unions have also begun envisioning the required reconstruction, recovery, and reform needed in their respective sectors once the war stops. Civilian Testimonies Shedding light on the experiences of workers’ unionization and the efforts of the medical and humanitarian emergency, offered here are the accounts of two prominent contributors. They reflect the significant efforts exerted by civilian forces amidst the ongoing war. Activist Moez Elzein is a project manager at the Al-Ayam Center for Cultural Studies and Development and a founding contributor to the humanitarian Emergency Rooms (ERs). Elzein is currently based in Kampala, Uganda, where he recently sought refuge from the horrors of the war in Sudan. He explained that since the outbreak of the war and collapse of public services, groups of RC members, professionals, and young men and women, began establishing ERs in war zones across Sudan. Inspired by the concept of “Nafir” (a mobilization call to humanitarian action, significant in Sudanese culture as voluntary and cooperative work during humanitarian disasters), they vowed to keep their work free of political affiliations and biases, which helped the idea to evolve and attract more volunteers. Elzein pointed out that ERs began their work with the idea of mutual aid rather than humanitarian aid. The idea started spontaneously among Sudanese through financial transfers to support those affected by the war, followed by the idea of ERs. Moez's words reveal the organizational capacities and experience these young people possess, developing a Coordination Council for Grassroots Work of ERs which is the largest indigenous civilian coordinating body operating across Sudan since the war began. This Council was formed based on the local governance system of Khartoum State, the most populous state in the country, with approximately eight million inhabitants according to the latest census projections from 2018. Initially, seven central ERs were formed for the seven localities, along with grassroots rooms for residential neighborhoods under them to ensure coordination and networking based on the administrative structure between administrative units, grassroots rooms, local ERs, and central rooms. Elzein indicated that the Council would evolve into a national council after including Sennar, Darfur, and other regions, thereby linking humanitarian intervention to grassroots work and local governance. Elzein describes how the ERs in Khartoum consist of 130 grassroots rooms in neighborhoods, in addition to seven central rooms. In Sennar, there are 15 grassroots rooms in neighborhoods and around seven central rooms, as well as one room in El-Suki. He noted that women's emergency rooms have also started to appear in eastern Sudan, as is the case in Gedaref and Kassala States, and there are 200 grassroots ERs in different Darfur states. Regarding how these rooms fund their activities, Elzein says, “the rooms initially received support from Sudanese people through bank transfers as donations, in addition to support from some international organizations. However, after the decline in capabilities due to the ongoing war and the worsening conditions of millions of Sudanese, the primary reliance now is on donors like the Sudan Humanitarian Fund (SHF).” Sudanese national organizations in turn, distribute funding to ERs, alongside other international organizations. Currently, the ERs depend entirely on funding from foreign organizations. Elzein continues, “there is a disparity in the number of participants in the rooms, depending on the population size in different areas and the level of interaction, even within Khartoum. For example, there are differences in the ability to communicate with various parties. Some rooms can communicate with SAF or RSF commanders in their areas, such as Karari in Omdurman and East Nile, to ensure safe passage of some food supplies needed for central kitchens or to secure the release of detained activists or residents of neighborhoods, while some areas lack this capability due to the hostile nature of the forces in control or due to pre-conceived aversion by grassroot activists to any coordination with neither SAF nor RSF.” For Elzein, one of the most significant challenges facing ERs is the repressive targeting and human rights violations faced by their members at the hands of both RSF and SAF. He adds, “in areas controlled by SAF and RSF, youth workers in emergency rooms have faced repeated arrests and severe human rights violations such as torture and beatings. Three weeks ago, one of the key workers in the emergency rooms in Eastern Nile State was arrested and falsely accused of killing a member of RSF.” Dr Hiba Omar was interviewed within the context of writing this article, to better understand the role of the medical ERs. Omar is the elected President of SDU’s Preparatory Committee and one of the prominent leaders of SPA. She has been repeatedly arrested and displaced. She says, “When the war broke out, the SDU was only a month old, and the Preparatory Committee was elected to perform specific tasks, including drafting a constitution, compiling a membership register, calling for a full general assembly, and holding free and fair union elections. We found ourselves faced with the daunting task of providing medical services to thousands of war victims after many hospitals shut down and were attacked by airstrikes and indiscriminate military attacks on them.” She recounts the details of the first hours after the war broke out, “I went to East Nile Hospital in the Al-Haj Youssef neighborhood in Khartoum and worked there for three consecutive days due to the severe shortage of staff. While we were working inside the hospital, it was bombed by SAF aircraft and then it was evacuated. So, I moved to the Ban Jadeed Hospital in a nearby area, but found it had closed. This situation, along with reports of many hospitals being out of service, prompted us to think about establishing medical ERs. We called on the RCs to support and assist us, and then we formed the first ER at Ban Jadeed Hospital.” She continues, “The war was very intense and was raging in the center of Khartoum State. This war violated all international humanitarian conventions and laws of war, with no regard for the neutrality of medical services and facilities nor protection of health workers. In fact, they were specifically targeted by both sides of the war. The expansion and intensity of the war and the targeting of hospitals, and the use of some health facilities as military platforms led to the loss of the ER’s capacities and the inability of patients to reach them, in addition to the killing of many medical staff and emergency room workers, the evacuation of patients, and the destruction and looting of hospitals.” Omar adds, “There were great difficulties in getting medical staff to hospitals, so most resided inside the hospitals, and we worked to fill the shortage due to the inability of some doctors to reach hospitals by training volunteers from RCs in medical services. The RCs provided oxygen and intravenous fluids in dangerous areas under shelling and bombing, as well as meals for patients and staff, and also transferred patients and the injured to other hospitals.” In her testimony as a doctor who witnessed the horrors of this war, Omar indicates the importance of the civil society organizations to the medical aid effort, “as a union, we contributed alongside Sudanese medical diaspora bodies such as SAPA (Sudanese American Physicians Associations) to securing critical information for the Sudanese Medical Council amid the shelling and battles; first transferring it to Al-Jazirah State and then after clashes broke out there, transferring the equipment containing the information to the Northern State in order to protect the interests of more than 10,000 doctors. The Council is responsible for training, certificates, and appointments of doctors and their specializations.” This major collapse caused by the war led Pmar Hiba, and her SDU colleagues, to work with other union bodies to establish the “Union Front,” and to expand it to include all workers in various fields who have been facing difficult conditions since the outbreak of the war, primarily the suspension of their salaries by the state for over a year and a half. “Addressing all these issues is almost impossible without stopping the war and, therefore, besides our work on professional issues, we continued work with other union bodies to achieve our shared struggle to stop the war, demand accountability, restore the revolution, and collectively defend workers' rights. We represent a broad sector of the Sudanese people together, and our positions express a large base that rejects the war, stands against its crimes, seeks justice, redress for the victims, the restoration of professionals' roles, and the enhancement and improvement of their conditions.” Continuous Work Despite the War After nearly a year and a half of horrific war, amidst the destruction caused by the military and militias allied with warring parties in Sudan, civil revolutionary forces are rising. These forces are working inside the country’s conflict areas as well as outside Sudan, where millions of Sudanese have sought refuge. Many are working to build bridges of communication with similar unions in host countries. Some have successfully traced their members dispersed in different countries as well. Various groups have started organizing training courses to enhance their capacities to deal with the war and its aftermath, while some unions are preparing to assess the scale of the destruction and thinking of how to reestablish a peaceful transition to democracy. Others yet, have begun documenting the violations and war crimes committed against civilians—and legally classifying them. Meanwhile, most unions are quietly working to provide as much assistance and support to their members by facilitating financial donations from Sudanese people worldwide and communicating with organizations that help and support refugees and professional advocacy groups. They are also negotiating with authorities in some asylum countries to ensure their members’ welfare and safety. In conclusion, the Sudanese civilian bodies such as the SPA, Resistance Committees and professional unions continue their decades-old tradition of democratic grassroot organization and advocacy for democratic freedoms despite the war. The collective experience they accumulated during the December Revolution continues to drive their commitment and inform their decision-making. They remain resolute that wars and military coups will never dent their resolve to create a free, peaceful and just. The December Revolution’s slogan, “Freedom, Peace and Justice” remains a beacon of hope for Sudan.∎ 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 AMIRA AHMED is a scholar and practitioner in the areas of diaspora engagement, migration, refugees, paid domestic work, and human trafficking. Her MA and PhD degrees focus on the intersectionality of gender, class, and ethnicity within local and global dynamics. Her PhD dissertation examined the vulnerabilities of migrant women domestic workers in Egypt. Ahmed has worked with leading humanitarian/development organizations such as UN-IOM in Jordan and Egypt and IFRC in Switzerland. She is a co-author of Skills for Science Systems in Africa: The Case of Brain Drain . HASHIM NASR was born in Khartoum. He is a self-taught visual artist whose work explores themes of heritage, identity, and memories through surreal and avant-garde imagery. Currently based in Alexandria, Egypt, Nasr’s recent work delves into the emotional complexities of exile. A graduate in dentistry, his passion for art photography evolved into creating surrealist and conceptual visuals using portraiture, symbolic props, and evocative settings. His imagery often reflects on gender equality, diversity, and the subconscious, blending editorial aesthetics with dreamlike visuals. Reportage Sudan Egypt Armed Forces Resistance Movement Resistance Resistance Committees Unions Medical Union Healthcare Community Civilian Solidarity War Sudanese Armed Forces Rapid Support Forces Military Coup Power-sharing Transitional Government December Revolution of 2018 Sudanese Professional Association Islamist Massacre Protest Political Dissidents Political Violence Violence Internally Displaced Persons Refugees Repression Civilian Activism Civil Society Infrastructure Dictatorship Emergency Committees Sudanese Diaspora Mobilization Humanitarian Aid Organizing Ceasefire Negotiations Trade Union Independence Colonialism 20th Century Railway Workers Colonial Oppression Front of Associations Coalition Labor Farmer Union Alliance Jaafar Nimeiri Omer Al-Bashir Public Interest Law Sudanese Doctors Union Strike Economy Grassroots Movements Inqaz NCP Regime South Sudan Secession Democracy Teachers Journalists Lawyers Doctors Facebook Social Media Civilian Unrest Sennar State River Nile State Blue Nile State Peoples Power Charter Flow of Commodities Monitoring Civilian Testimonies Cultural Studies Census Al-Ayam Center for Cultural Studies and Development Moez Elzein Activist Human Rights Violations Human Rights Youth Workers Torture Emergency Room SDU Preparatory Committee Hiba Omar Airstrike Khartoum State Sudanese Medical Council Al-Jazirah State Hope Conflict Revolution Advocacy Freedom Peace Justice 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:

ACTIVIST-SCHOLAR Aqui Thami AQUI THAMI is an artist, activist, scholar doctoral candidate, and founder of Sister Library , South Asia's first community owned feminist library space. ACTIVIST-SCHOLAR WEBSITE INSTAGRAM TWITTER Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 LOAD MORE

In Hong Kong’s shifting political landscape, diasporic South Asian communities have emerged as key voices within a growing movement to build transnational solidarity, especially in regards to Palestine. Through reshaping activist networks and confronting racial exclusion, South Asians are building new alliances, resisting colonialism, and deepening their commitment to Palestinian liberation. In Hong Kong’s shifting political landscape, diasporic South Asian communities have emerged as key voices within a growing movement to build transnational solidarity, especially in regards to Palestine. Through reshaping activist networks and confronting racial exclusion, South Asians are building new alliances, resisting colonialism, and deepening their commitment to Palestinian liberation. "Khai Hoa" (Bloom) by Hoai Phuong. Artist Hong Kong Fizza Qureshi 22 May 2025 nd · THE VERTICAL REPORTAGE · LOCATION Shifting Solidarities Building inclusive organizing networks is a fraught endeavor in Hong Kong. For the last five years , residents involved in demonstrations and community events have had to work around the government’s crackdown on civil liberties. For South Asians, the situation is more complex. In addition to dealing with the impacts of COVID-19 policies and the recent National Security Law ( NSL )—specifically implemented to intimidate dissenters—they also have to contend with the implicit racial biases of fellow organizers. It wasn’t until 2023, when people started protesting Israel’s genocide in Palestine, that organizing practices began shifting, with efforts to learn from South Asians’ years of work in solidarity with the Palestinian struggle. While there is still plenty of room for progress, 2023 marked a promising moment of intersectional coalition building in Hong Kong’s political history. In 2019, the government proposed the Fugitive Offenders and Mutual Legal Assistance in Criminal Matters Legislation (Amendment), a bill regarding extradition that allowed criminal suspects to be sent for trial to a number of countries, including the People’s Republic of China, Taiwan, and Macau. In the months that followed, more than a million people took to the streets to protest , citing concerns that the bill would expose people in Hong Kong to China’s judicial system. Protestors clashed with the police, and in the aftermath , faced immense repression; hundreds of activists were exiled, unions were dismantled, and residents left the territory in mass numbers. Amidst the turmoil, citizens found solace in one another, with the term “Hong Konger” becoming a unifying marker of identity for many dissenters. Despite this burgeoning camaraderie, ethno-nationalist tendencies persisted. The newfound sense of community excluded the city’s historic South Asian citizens —a group that came to the region as early as the 1800s, when the British colonized the city. Initially arriving as soldiers in the British army, South Asians eventually became central to setting up key administrative and educational institutions within the territory. However, today, Hong Kongers of South Asian descent still face institutionalized discrimination rooted in a colonial racial hierarchy, colorism, and language segregation. Adnan Muhammad is a Pakistani-Hong Konger who founded a Palestine solidarity group called United For Palestine (UFP) in 2017. Reflecting on his experience organising around Palestine in Hong Kong, he said, “We always felt like we were operating within silos [because] most of the people who came to our events were either Pakistani or Indian, or Muslim [from diverse backgrounds].” Adnan added that during the 2019 anti-extradition bill protests , South Asians and other minority communities could not partake because of the language barrier; most protest materials were in Cantonese. If they did participate, they became “easy targets” for the police due to their ethnicity, the institution's deeply rooted racist attitudes , and, notably, discriminatory “stop and search” practices. This is an observation that Alison Tan, a food designer and organizer, made , too. The Hong Kong-based designer stated, “People have a bit of a mind-your-own-business mentality in Hong Kong, especially in public, but during the demonstrations, you could see people actively looking out for each other,” adding, “Yet, when there were instances of police aggression towards South Asians, no one seemed to step up.” The organizing networks established in 2019 largely dissipated the following year when the pandemic hit. The government imposed 6pm curfews, movement tracking mobile apps, mask mandates, and restrictions on gatherings. In public, an air of self-censorship took root. Citizens felt that they couldn’t have open conversations about the ways these laws were negatively impacting them. The NSL, passed in 2020, made dissent along with community organizing even more difficult. It allowed the Hong Kong government to prosecute individuals with crimes of secession (trying to break away from China), subversion (threatening the government’s power), terrorism (acts of violence), and collusion with foreign organizations. Each of these crimes was vaguely defined—no one really seemed to know what would count as a transgression. By instituting this law, the government was effectively cracking down on civil liberties, including the freedom of speech. Despite the intensity of censorship, Hong Kong citizens did not lose their fervor for dissent. When Israel launched a genocidal attack on Palestine following the events of October 7th, organizing networks slowly began springing back into action. Citizens still didn’t have freedom of assembly, so events started out as small-scale, community-based, and non-confrontational gatherings. Nevertheless, organizers were resolute and made an effort to be intersectional. Following the cancellation of a Palestinian film screening at a community arts studio, solidarity efforts intensified. The events that were previously semi-public went completely underground. During this time, Alison remembers seeing South Asian and Middle Eastern communities taking the lead in filling a crucial gap in people’s knowledge about Palestine. “Most Chinese Hong Kongers do not care, and do not know [about Palestine]. We just don’t have an insight into the way faith, for example, plays a role in the struggle.” For Alison and Adnan, this knowledge gap exists because there has been little exchange and solidarity between movements for Hong Kong’s liberation and those located outside the region. In the past year, however, efforts by groups like United for Palestine have converged their goals with those of other organizing collectives. Under UFP leadership, people joined messaging groups made by South Asian Muslim youth that disseminated information about teach-ins and prayers being held in mosques that helped spread awareness about the history of the Palestinian cause. There were communal events, tucked away from the public eye, where people gathered to talk about grief, frustration, and their commitment to justice. Reflecting on these shifts, Adnan felt that even though their collective began operating in Hong Kong in 2017, “It was only after October 2023 that our efforts began reaching people beyond South Asian and Muslim communities, and people from other communities began to take an interest.” Vera, a Chinese Hong-Konger whose artist studio is located in a diverse neighborhood consisting of Indian, Pakistani, Nepalese, and Chinese residents, shared that his studio’s support for Palestine has brought him and his colleagues closer to their South Asian neighbors. “X, a Pakistani kaifong , who often plays chess with me, visited our space and saw Palestinian flags. Since then, he’s been cooking for us, saying Palestinians are like his brothers and sisters.” This again represents a rare instance of solidarity between communities who live alongside each other but don’t always have common ground to meaningfully interact with one another—a divide that's frequently reinforced by systemic factors, including language differences. At a community mutual aid event in March 2024 that raised 48,000 HKD in donations for Palestine, South Asian students put up a stall selling keffiyehs, mehndi, and other solidarity materials alongside other Hong Kongers who sold miso soup, zines, and second-hand clothing. The event also featured a halal vegan-friendly spread of foods and learning sessions about Islam’s role in the resistance and the Palestinian struggle against colonization. The fundraiser, centered around honoring and learning about Palestinian culture, ended with a moving performance of a song, “My mouth was made for speaking,” by a Hong Kong singer, drawing powerful links between the struggle for Palestine’s liberation and Hong Kong’s own struggle against imperialism. This is not to say that there has not been pushback. Events that have taken place more publicly have been shut down and censored under the pretext of ambiguous complaints. While official reasoning remains unknown, pro-Palestine organizers speculate that the government seeks to avoid friction with pro-Zionist lobbies and maintain a politically neutral—or rather, a conflict-free—environment within the city. Of course, choosing to remain indifferent to a genocide is akin to implicitly siding with the oppressor. In August 2024, after almost a year of community-based events for Palestine, some organizers were able to host a public exhibit showcasing Palestine solidarity posters at Hong Kong’s premier Art Book Fair, “BOOKED,” at Tai Kwun Contemporary. However, two days before the fair was due to begin, the exhibition was canceled without any clear explanation from the management. Pivotally, organizers remain resilient and tactful. Within two days of the exhibition at BOOKED being canceled, they secured an alternative venue and utilized solidarity networks to gather a large number of attendees. Jason, a photographer who has been running a leftist reading club in Hong Kong for the past year, believes this was only possible because efforts related to Palestine revitalized networks of organizing that had been previously quashed. “There was a lot of energy in the city that dissipated [after 2019], and now people have a reason to come together again.” Alison, who was also at the event, said, “Palestine has really brought people from all walks of life together in a really powerful way.” It is hard to say whether these efforts make a dent in the powerful apparatus of settler-colonial regimes that seek to occupy Palestine. But within their own context, these newly formed relationships are allowing communities in Hong Kong to chip away at divisions along racial and ethnic lines.∎ 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 FIZZA QURESHI is an urban planner, researcher, and organizer whose work focuses on urban development, informality, and design histories in South and Southeast Asia. She is a co-founder of the Karachi Bachao Tehreek and previously led a political reading group in Hong Kong. HOAI PHUONG is a painter specializing in Oriental art. Currently residing in Italy, Phuong is an activist and organizer advocating for a free Palestine. Phuong co-founded the “Water for Mawasi” fund, which provides potable water weekly to displaced Palestinians and supports other local charities. Phuong also runs a blog called “Tho Palestine,” where she translates works by Palestinian poets and writers, along with news about Palestine, for the Vietnamese community. Reportage Hong Kong Civilian Solidarity Civilian Activism Activism Activist Advocacy Pakistan Free Speech Freedom Palestine Protest Mass Protests Civilian Unrest Liberation ideology Muslim Islam Organizing Ethno-nationalism Liberation Struggle Diaspora South Asia Muslim Organizing Public Space Geography Politics of Ethnic Identity Social Change Tai Kwun Contemporary National Security Law Hong Konger United For Palestine Protest Materials Cantonese Language Language Segregation China Police Action Freedom of Speech BOOKED Multi-ethnic Solidarity Networks Dissipated Self-Determination Zahra Yarali 26th Mar Who is Next? Noor Bakhsh · Qasum Faraz · Sajid Hussain 5th Mar Paean to Mother Nature Marissa Carruthers 25th Feb Through Thick and Thin Amira Ahmed 23rd Feb Chats Ep. 9 · On the Essay Collection “Southbound” Anjali Enjeti 19th May On That Note:

From Assam’s National Register of Citizens offices to Lahore’s streets, trans and queer communities confront policing, displacement, and erasure while continuing to build worlds of resistance, care, and possibility. From Assam’s National Register of Citizens offices to Lahore’s streets, trans and queer communities confront policing, displacement, and erasure while continuing to build worlds of resistance, care, and possibility. "A Coat of Our Arms" (2025), digital illustration, courtesy of Priyanka Kumar. Artist Assam AUTHOR · AUTHOR · AUTHOR 24 Oct 2025 th · THE VERTICAL REPORTAGE · LOCATION Trans Counterpublics P ooja Rabha, a tribal transgender woman from the Charaideo District in Assam, trembled as she told SAAG about a haunting scene from her visit to the National Register of Citizens (NRC) office. The office was swarming with border police and old heaps of paper documents. When called to the service desk, Rabha was asked to provide all the details of her origins, including a birth certificate, land document, and bank records. She stood behind her mother, her heart racing with anxiety. “I knew they were looking at my body,” Rabha recalled. Within minutes of standing there, a border police officer approached her and mockingly asked, “Are you a boy or a girl?” She froze. The officer screamed, “Go stand in the boys’ line!” NRC inspection and verification is a lengthy process and typically incomplete without biodata, photographs, and documents proving lineage. For many transgender people in Assam, the process is especially resource-consuming due to the need for consistent documentation that reflects their current identity. Many find this difficult, particularly if estranged from their families or if their official documents still reflect their birth-assigned “dead” names. Critics also believe the NRC is effectively a xenophobic exercise to identify and deport undocumented immigrants from neighboring Bangladesh—many of whom arrived in Assam following the 1971 war of independence. In 2019, the process excluded approximately 2 million people from citizenship, creating severe consequences for Assam’s transgender population, who face disenfranchisement alongside others left off the list. In Rabha’s case, even the discrepancy between her gender presentation and the gender identity indicated on official documents is enough to arouse suspicion. Should people like Rabha fail to be verified under the NRC, they are essentially rendered stateless: at best, unable to vote in elections , and at worst, likely in danger of imprisonment at a detention center. Unfortunately, transgender marginalization for political gain is not new in modern day India and Pakistan, where many Hijra and Khwaja Sira communities —an umbrella term in Urdu for transgender, nonbinary, and gender nonconforming people—share a rich history in connection to the land. A Long-Held Colonial Legacy Pre-colonial India demonstrated openness to sexual fluidity. Themes exploring gender and sexuality can be seen in ancient texts such as the Vatsyayana Kamasutra, Jain religious writings from the 5th century, Sufi poetry from the 13th century , and erotic literature from the Mughal period in the 17th century. In fact, many researchers and historians of South Asian studies have also highlighted links between queer desire and the sacred. Shayan Rajani, for instance, delves into the documented homoerotic relationship between Madho Lal Hussain, a 16th century Sufi mystic from Lahore, and a married Brahmin man. Rajani explains that while the relationship was considered unconventional, even transgressive, it finds a home within the religious canon when seen through the lens of Sufi thinkers and practitioners. Across various written accounts, and in Persian verse, this queer relationship was understood through “Metaphorical Love”—a Sufi literary tradition in which the imagery of human love is used as a metaphor to describe love for the divine. This same elevation of queerness is seen in Vinay Lal’s explication of the ancient Indian epic the Ramayana , particularly how many hijras connect to the epic through their resistance to categorization. In the story, as Rama prepares to go into exile with Sita and Lakshmana, he instructs his subjects, “Men and women, please go back and perform your duties.” Per Lal’s interpretation, hijras, identifying as neither men nor women, would have remained at the same spot of his departure, where they would greet Rama upon his return fourteen years later. For their devotion, they would be blessed by Rama. In both Rajani and Lal’s analysis, queerness is deeply woven into the fabric of the region, through spiritual, literary and cultural traditions. Their work demonstrates the relatively expansive ideas of queerness in the erstwhile Subcontinent. However, the colonization of the Indian subcontinent by the British East India Company, brought with it a steep decline of the Khwaja Siras’ cultural significance alongside a wave of discrimination through the Criminal Tribes Act (CTC). Under the Act,. Khwaja Sira were criminalized based on a strict, orthodox understanding of gender roles. Men wearing female attire and homosexuality were deemed punishable offenses. This legislation effectively enforced gender norms, while picking away at artistic traditions that embedded queerness within them. “They [the British] criminalized our bodies back in the 18th century,” Pakistani trans activist Hina Baloch explained to SAAG. “So branding us as foreign agents or ‘others’ has a very colonial politics attached to it.” Although the CTC is no longer in effect in present-day Pakistan and India following their independence, its influence persists as a key colonial legacy, shaping societal attitudes and laws. Queer Rights Amid Religious Conservatism In Pakistan On May 19, 2023, the Federal Shariat Court of Pakistan rendered the Transgender Persons Act of 2018 incompatible with Islamic principles. This law had allowed people to choose their gender and to have that identity recognized on official documents, including national IDs, passports, and driver’s licenses. The recognition meant that transgender people could press charges for cases of discrimination and exercise their political right to vote while showing up as their authentic selves. While activists like Baloch are currently in the process of appealing the court’s decision, the reality is that the Khwaja Sira community remained the victim of violence and dehumanization even while the bill was in effect, she said. “We never had faith in our judicial system, and to a large extent, we saw this coming.” In recent years, the Pakistani government, fueled by netizens’ religious uproar, has curtailed many forms of queer and trans expression in the country, creating a firm bedrock of support for the overturning of the Transgender Persons Act. As Hussain “Jaan-e–Haseena” Zaidi, a trans-feminine artist based in Lahore, told SAAG , “By being very public about your queer identity, you’re inviting other people to criticize and try to discipline you back into their framework of being a Pakistani.” This sentiment is echoed in the backlash against the film Joyland , which depicted a love affair between a man and a transgender woman, in November 2022. Spearheaded by prominent figures from Pakistan’s religious right, including fashion designer Maria B and religious evangelist Raja Zia Ul Haq, the mudslinging evolved into what seemed to be a broader campaign about the religious and cultural identity of Pakistan as a nation. Hashtags like #JoylandvsIslam gained traction, with critics denouncing the film as part of a foreign-funded agenda to destroy Islam. The discourse included other extreme reactions as well, such as equating transgender identity with pedophilia . [Embedded] “The filthy venture named ‘Joyland’ is in fact promoting a one-way ticket to hell. The West has shortlisted this LGBTQ+ film for the Oscars as it openly mocks the teachings of Islam. We must reverse all decisions and actions based on the Transgender Act 2018.” ( Tanzeem-e-Islami ) While Joyland was ultimately allowed limited release following significant cuts of ostensibly vulgar material, it remained banned in Punjab , Pakistan’s most populous province . In a country where any violation of the harsh blasphemy law can result in punishment by death, accusations of being “un-Islamic” or “mocking the teachings of Islam” can have dire consequences. Moreover, vigilante justice is common in blasphemy cases, which are increasingly settled with violence outside the courtroom, with mob and targeted attacks against those accused. On March 17, 2024, a violent mob of over 100 men attacked and severely wounded transgender women in Gulistan-e-Johar, Karachi. According to Shahzadi Rai , a transgender woman present at the scene who is also an elected official of the Karachi Municipal Council, the incident originated at a local marketplace. A member of the Khwaja Sira community had politely requested a shopkeeper to exchange a torn banknote. However, a nearby man responded with sexually suggestive comments, implying she engaged in sex work. “Mind your own business,” the woman retorted. The situation escalated as the man proceeded to verbally abuse and physically assault her. Within moments, said Rai, the commotion attracted a mob hurling transphobic slurs, inappropriately touching the women, attempting to tear their clothes off, and threatening them with death. The mob accused them of “ruining society, “dirtying our neighborhood” and threatened to burn them all. As of 2021, at least 89 people have been extrajudicially killed due to blasphemy accusations over Pakistan’s seven-decade history, and the numbers have further risen since. At this point, policing blasphemy is woven into the social fabric of the nation. In Haseena’s words, “There’s this normalized [policing] which can range anywhere from verbal to violent harassment. And this can be from family, people you know, or random strangers.” This normalization of vigilante-style policing coupled with dehumanizing smear campaigns on social media has resulted in what Baloch calls “a very systemic and organized transphobia.” Ultimately, trans erasure and persecution is equated with strengthening the religious morals of the nation. “The Pakistani state has failed the Khwaja Sira community on violence,” Baloch added. “There is domestic violence like honor killing and homelessness [that] we face from our birth parents. Then, there’s intimate partner violence at the hands of our boyfriends and partners. And then there’s casual everyday violence.” In India, The Trans Body in Conflict With Hindutva Logic On the other side of the border, Dominic Amonge, a 34-year-old trans woman recounted an incident during her university days when, prior to her physical transition, she was raped during her stay at a men's paying guest (PG) house in Guwahati, India. Seeking justice, she approached the Station House Officer, but according to Amonge, the officer dismissively stated, "That's because it's your fault; you are queer." "I dealt with it," she said. "I lived with the abuse." Dominic Amonge is not alone. Sumitra Ghosh, a 22 year-old non-cis passing trans woman, faced similar challenges in Guwahati. Her landlord evicted her after discovering she was undergoing hormone therapy, assuming she would engage in sex work. In reality, she was on the verge of completing her BA 3rd Semester. With few housing options, as many metro states of India still demand cisgender married couples or bachelor men, Sumitra reluctantly moved into a boys’ PG in August, 2024. Within days, however, her male roommate sexually assaulted her. Aniruddha Dutta explores the construction of an “elsewhere” within Hindutva rhetoric, highlighting how marginalized communities are framed as “foreign threats” to the dominant sociopolitical order. Dutta defines “elsewhere” as any group or identity that does not conform to the rigid boundaries of Hindu nationalism—this includes Bangladeshi immigrants, Muslims, Dalits, Adivasis, and certain queer and trans people who do not fit within the upper-caste Hindu framework. Specifically, Dutta examines an incident from July 2021 where a brutal video of a trans woman named Ratna Chowdhury torturing a younger hijra circulated on WhatsApp. Without excusing the violence of the incident, Dutta traces how the event became a Hindutva talking point. As the case progressed, Dutta noticed that “Chowdhury was repeatedly singled out to direct blame towards Bangladeshis and Muslims and otherize them within hijra communities”—all while packaging it under the guise of safety concerns for trans individuals. Dutta notes that Hindutva may, at times, co-opt queer politics to project Hinduism as uniquely tolerant and inclusive. However, this assimilation can be slippery and rests on exclusionary and binary thinking—logic that would otherwise flatten Dominic Amonge and Sumitra Ghosh’s experiences into mere outliers or stereotypes. Trans women from Bengali or Muslim immigrant communities in Assam, for example, face compounded challenges under the current political climate. The Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) government perpetuates ideas of a “foreigner-free” homeland for Assamese people, banking on middle-class Assamese anxiety to push the envelope for an updated NRC. While the 2019 Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act , promised legal protections such as the ability to modify names on birth certificates, bureaucratic hurdles and the preoccupation with accurate citizenship continue to block progress in Assam. Trans women must provide proof of gender affirming surgery to update their legal identity, while those identifying as "transgender" must receive approval from the District Level Screening Committee. “Government offices demand an extra level of patience to deal with,” said Sumitra Ghosh, who struggled for months to receive her TG card (identity card for trans people) in Tezpur, Assam. “These offices are overburdened with work, and the employees either work slowly or continue to postpone their tasks until they become urgent. They rejected my certificates so many times in Tezpur,” she said. Often, due to additional document requests, “pictures, biodata proofs, and affidavits.” The stories of trans women like Dominic Amonge and Sumitra Ghosh illustrate that despite legal protections and selectively inclusive talking points, these women remain vulnerable to sexual violence, eviction, and systemic neglect by government officials. Their experiences also point to how queer people can easily slip between “legitimate” and “illegitimate” depending on the interests of the state. On September 11, 2023, Assam Railway Police arrested three Muslim trans women—Kusum, Durga, and Puja—for begging for change on the Bangalore Express train. The women were subjected to degrading and illegal bodily inspections . Despite trans people’s right to self-identify per the Supreme Court of India, the police falsely declared their trans identity as “fake” due to the absence of gender-affirming surgery. The media’s portrayal of the incident exacerbated the women’s plight. They were not only deadnamed and misgendered but also labeled as “impostors,” vilifying them in the public eye. The narrative largely appealed to the importance of pure, sanitized spaces—another prominent Hindutva talking point—and framed them as deceitful individuals, who were harassing passengers and collecting money under false pretenses. “With my queerness and gender, nobody needs to worry about my body,” asserted Durga in contrast to the circulated story. “Police are always worried about what’s between my legs more than myself.” Resistance Efforts On Both Sides Of The Border Faced with national erasure, queer communities in Pakistan and Assam have created grassroots initiatives that prioritize solidarity, joy, and community-care. In Assam, prominent trans activist Rituparna Neog leads the Akam Foundation , an organization dedicated to nurturing feminist education through community-building projects. Growing up witnessing the oppression of Adivasi children in Jorhat, Neog’s activism is informed by a commitment to radical compassion. Her organization’s initiatives include establishing free libraries in remote Assamese villages to break down barriers and educate communities on gender and sexuality. The foundation’s first library project, Kitape Kotha Koi launched in August 2021 and offers a safe and accessible space for learning. The focus is on library education and ensuring reading materials are free for those who need them most. Similarly, Palash Borah, a gay activist from Assam started Snehbandhan (Bond of Love) in 2015. Originally a support-based WhatsApp group of trans and queer people in Guwahati, the group has evolved into an officially registered organization. Major initiatives include activities like meet-ups and donation drives with Kinnar Trust and Donatekart . Currently, Snehbandhan is running a project with Azim Premji Foundation called Sahas to provide necessities like hormones, laser treatments, and registration certificates to the transgender community in Assam. "At first, I was nervous about all the activist talk and labels,” shared Dominic Amonge, who works for Snehbandhan. “I'm not a so-called activist. However, how else would I learn where to get a safe doctor or a good job?" Likewise in Lahore, Haseena founded Zenaan Khana in March 2023 following a slew of anti-trans attacks and rhetoric since the heated discourse on Joyland . Drawing on the region’s deep historical ties between art and queerness, Zenaan Khana positions itself as part of a broader artistic resistance. “Art is crucial in resistance movements because art has the power of providing a visual, auditory and literary toolkit,” said Haseena. One of Zenaan Khana’s goals is to create media that depicts queer and transness specific to the context of Pakistan, exemplified in one of its first projects: a series of photoshoots highlighting trans beauty, prominently featured on the group’s Instagram page. In one striking image, a trans woman is adorned in traditional jewelry, rings and henna, paying homage to the region’s aesthetics while questioning what types of bodies get to participate in this specific visual culture. “Our idea was to get photographers, stylists, and visual artists together to showcase queerness that is specific to the Pakistani context, and even pushing back against Western notions of LGBTQ+ identity,” Haseena noted. In many ways, “Ishq,” one of Zenaan Khana’s central ethos, captures the community-care politics at the heart of queer resistance. Ishq can be translated to mean an unending love filled with infinite possibilities. By anchoring itself in Ishq , the collective not only imagines a possibility for queer liberation in the Urdu language, but also expands the definition of the word itself to encapsulate the chosen families in queer circles, community building, and love beyond the binary—an ethos applicable on either side of the border. Whether through education, art, or funding, queer activists from Karachi to Assam demonstrate a shared commitment to queer liberation in the face of state-sanctioned erasure. Haseena neatly captures this pillar of resistance: “expanding people’s imaginations of queer and trans possibilities.” ∎ 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. 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. Essay Assam Kashmir 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: