#barr

1-12-1923 La tragedia del Gleno

https://www.antiwarsongs.org/img/upl/traggleno.jpg

Et sèntit Piero chèl chè i völ fa
Zó sóta ól Glé, chèi de Milà,
I fa öna diga sura ól nòst có,
Prègóm chè ö dé la ègnès mìa zö. [1]

Zitti bifolchi stolti e ignoranti,
Diamo valore ai nostri monti,
Siamo il futuro, la nuova età,
Noi vi doniamo la civiltà.

Notèr n’laura, n’sè mìa dutur,
N’và in miniera, n’fà i muradur,
Ma n’sa chè ö mür con póc cèmènt
èl vé zó co l’àiva, el vé zó cón niènt. [2]

Che ne sapete, voi manovali,
Scienza e opinione non sono uguali,
Non si va a naso, qui c’è un progetto,
C’è l’ingegnere, c’è l’architetto.

Piero l’ghè piö, mé ma sènte mal,
L’è n’sèma a tacé n’fónt a la àl,
La diga la sé rumpida nèl mès,
L’ha portat vià i paés zó nèl Dès. [3]

Dove rombò la morte implacabile
S’alza l’augurio di giovinezza,
Segn’ di rivincita, simbol di lotta,
Pugna perenne tra uomo e natura.

Isè ghè scrìt söl so giornàl,
I fa i poeti, i töl pèr ól cöl,
I fa i sò afàré, i fa le magagne,
Dopo la culpa l’è dè lé montagne. [4]

Desideriamo, vostra maestà,
Una chiesetta dove pregar
Per i nostri morti ed insegnar
Ai figli a piangere e non a odiar.

N’gà ché i morcc amò de sótrà,
E stó preòst èl völ pèrdunà,
Ghè n’pé piö öna ca, ghè zó piö una sésa,
E lü l’domanda i sólcc pèr la césa. [5]

Chiedete troppo, scrive l’impresa,
Voi non potete aver la pretesa
Di noi ridurre miseri e tristi
Siate sensati, non egoisti.

Zó a Dès ìa cèntvotantòtt,
I paisà, nè rèstàt òt,
Dét a la àl gh’è sichsènto morcc,
E lur è lé ché i cönta amò i sólcc. [6]

Non ci fu dolo, non ci fu offesa,
Dice il collegio della difesa,
A far cadere muri e pilastri
Fu un attentato degli anarchisti.

Có l’aria che tira èl saltèra fò
Chè la culpa l’è nòsta sè l’è gnìda zó,
él sarà bél sè stó procés
I ghè l’fa mìa a chèi dèl Dès. [7]

Zitti: la legge è uguale per tutti,
Darem giustizia ai vostri lutti.
Sei sono assolti, ma due condannati
A ben tre anni, ma due condonati.

Zitti: la legge per tutti e uguale,
E tratta il ricco come il manovale
E la condanna a nessuno fa torto,
Un dì di pena per ogni morto.

Zitti: la legge per tutti e uguale,
E tratta il ricco come il manovale
E la condanna a nessuno fa torto,
Un dì di pena -quasi- per ogni morto.

▻https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PC_p5AtHTqo&t=52s

–—

Le 1er décembre 1923 à 6 h 30, un contrefort de l’une des voûtes se fissure et cède, entraînant la rupture des voûtes voisines. En quelques minutes, les 4 500 000 m3 du réservoir3 se déversent dans la vallée en contrebas, noyant totalement ou en partie les villages de #Bueggio, #Dezzo et #Corna_di_Darfo ainsi que la vallée jusqu’au lac d’Iseo, tuant au total 356 personnes4,2.

L’analyse du #barrage révèle que sa #rupture est due à un défaut de construction lié à l’emploi d’un #ciment de mauvaise qualité, à l’intégration dans les fondations d’un mur anti-grenade de la Première Guerre mondiale, à un mauvais ancrage des fondations dans le substrat rocheux3 et à un remplissage trop rapide du réservoir alors que le ciment n’était pas suffisamment durci et n’avait pas encore atteint sa résistance mécanique complète.

Une autre hypothèse est celle d’un attentat visant à endommager le barrage qui aurait eu des effets bien plus dévastateurs que prévu du fait de cette mauvaise construction5.

▻https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barrage_du_Gleno
#Gleno #tragédie #histoire #Italie #1_décembre_1923 #chanson #musique #musique_et_politique #Andrea_Polini #barrage_hydroélectrique #histoire #catastrophe

voir aussi :
▻https://seenthis.net/messages/1042729

▻https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sbJs48B-zFA&embeds_referring_euri=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.antiwarsongs.or

https://www.antiwarsongs.org/img/upl/gleno23.jpg

Il sacco di cemento sulla schiena
pesa quanto la miseria della vita
i ferri tra le braccia di una madre
e il passo si fa rapido alle forge
ma i ferri sono corti
il cemento non fa presa.

Bastassero il lavoro e la fatica
da soli a tenere su quel muro
e intanto metti sassi e ancora sassi
continui a metter sabbia e ancora sabbia
ci vuole malta buona
per tenere su la diga

Gnirà giò ‘l Glen gnirà giò ‘l Glen
Verrà giù il Gleno verrà giù la diga

Ti svegli, è un brutto sogno, piove ancora
ha paura la tua bimba questa notte
non pensare alla minaccia oscura
all’acqua che adesso fa paura
come mille serpenti
che scendono dal muro

L’acqua continua ad uscire
e tu continua a sognare
non devi sapere figlia mia
che questa è una maledizione
è un segno dal cielo
è un segno di Dio

Ol ve giò ‘l Glen ol ve giò ‘l Glen
Viene giù il Gleno viene giù la diga

Il vento arriva all’improvviso
con un tuono sordo e disperato,
galleggia la casa dentro il fiume
Signore è venuta giù la diga
l’acqua scuote le rocce
porta via le case e le persone

Brucia anche l’acqua dentro il fuoco
scende a valle il fiume impazzito
corri forte e non ti voltare
corri forte per non vedere
e sali, sali ancora
per non morire

L’è gnìt giò ‘l Glen l’è gnìt giò ‘l Glen
È venuto giù il Gleno È venuta giù la diga

L’è gnìt giò ‘l Glen l’è gnìt giò ‘l Glen
Signore È venuta giù la diga

#Gleno #tragédie #histoire #Italie #1_décembre_1923 #chanson #musique #musique_et_politique #barrage_hydroélectrique #histoire #catastrophe #Giorgio_Cordini

v. aussi :
▻https://seenthis.net/messages/1042754

The Walls Have Eyes. Surviving Migration in the Age of Artificial Intelligence

https://thenewpress.com/sites/default/files/covers/walls_have_eyes_rev1.jpg

A chilling exposé of the inhumane and lucrative sharpening of borders around the globe through experimental surveillance technology

“Racism, technology, and borders create a cruel intersection . . . more and more people are getting caught in the crosshairs of an unregulated and harmful set of technologies touted to control borders and ‘manage migration,’ bolstering a multibillion-dollar industry.” —from the introduction

In 2022, the U.S. Department of Homeland Security announced it was training “robot dogs” to help secure the U.S.-Mexico border against migrants. Four-legged machines equipped with cameras and sensors would join a network of drones and automated surveillance towers—nicknamed the “smart wall.” This is part of a worldwide trend: as more people are displaced by war, economic instability, and a warming planet, more countries are turning to A.I.-driven technology to “manage” the influx.

Based on years of researching borderlands across the world, lawyer and anthropologist Petra Molnar’s The Walls Have Eyes is a truly global story—a dystopian vision turned reality, where your body is your passport and matters of life and death are determined by algorithm. Examining how technology is being deployed by governments on the world’s most vulnerable with little regulation, Molnar also shows us how borders are now big business, with defense contractors and tech start-ups alike scrambling to capture this highly profitable market.

With a foreword by former U.N. Special Rapporteur E. Tendayi Achiume, The Walls Have Eyes reveals the profound human stakes, foregrounding the stories of people on the move and the daring forms of resistance that have emerged against the hubris and cruelty of those seeking to use technology to turn human beings into problems to be solved.

▻https://thenewpress.com/books/walls-have-eyes
#livre #Petra_Molnar

Il confine tra Russia e Finlandia è «un inferno fatto di ghiaccio».

Il governo finlandese chiude i valichi di frontiera fino al 14 gennaio.

https://www.meltingpot.org/app/uploads/2024/01/FfYZRnTWYBMW3gH.jpeg

Il 14 dicembre 2023, in una sessione straordinaria, il governo finlandese ha deciso la chiusura dell’intero confine orientale della Finlandia con la Russia. I valichi di frontiera di #Imatra, #Kuusamo, #Niirala, #Nuijamaa, #Raja-Jooseppi, #Salla, #Vaalimaa e #Vartius sono stati chiusi e lo saranno fino al 14 gennaio 2024. «Di conseguenza, le domande di protezione internazionale alle frontiere esterne della Finlandia saranno ricevute solo dai valichi di frontiera degli aeroporti e dei porti marittimi» ha comunicato il governo guidato da Petteri Orpo, entrato in carica il 20 giugno scorso.

La decisione, motivata dalla difesa della sicurezza nazionale e l’ordine pubblico in Finlandia, è avvenuta nello stesso giorno in cui si erano riaperti due valichi di frontiera, dopo una prima chiusura di tutto il confine iniziata il 18 novembre 2023.

Il governo di Helsinki accusa il governo russo di aver orchestrato l’arrivo dei richiedenti asilo ai valichi di frontiera come ritorsione per l’adesione del Paese nordico all’alleanza militare della NATO, formalizzata il 4 aprile scorso.

«Questo è un segno che le autorità russe stanno continuando la loro operazione ibrida contro la Finlandia. È una cosa che non tollereremo», ha dichiarato la ministra dell’Interno Mari Rantanen.

Intanto anche la Lettonia e la Lituania 2 stanno prendendo in considerazione l’idea di chiudere le loro frontiere.

Per far fronte alla situazione sul confine orientale la guardia di frontiera ha chiesto supporto a Frontex (Agenzia europea della guardia di frontiera e costiera), che aveva già inviato personale alla fine di novembre in Carelia settentrionale (una regione storica, la parte più orientale della Finlandia).

Oltre alla sorveglianza del territorio, l’adesione della Finlandia alla Nato porterà alla costruzione di una recinzione sul confine con la Russia che è lungo 1.340 chilometri. L’opera richiede circa 380 milioni di euro e dai tre ai quattro anni di tempo per essere completata. Rappresenterà la struttura fisica di “protezione” più lunga tra il blocco dell’alleanza atlantica e la Federazione russa.

I lavori di costruzione della barriera, che sarà situata sul confine sud-orientale per una lunghezza complessiva di circa 200 km, sono partiti con una prima recinzione pilota di circa 3 chilometri che è stata costruita a Pelkola.

▻https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8d_qVqN3yUo&embeds_referring_euri=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.meltingpot.org%

Ora è iniziata l’implementazione della fase successiva, che prevede la costruzione di circa 70 chilometri di barriera ai valichi di frontiera e nell’area circostante nel periodo 2024-2025. La barriera, secondo quanto riporta la guardia di frontiera, è una combinazione di una recinzione, una strada adiacente, un’apertura libera da alberi e un sistema di sorveglianza tecnica. Quest’ultimo è definito come uno strumento importante per il controllo delle frontiere.

https://www.meltingpot.org/app/uploads/2024/01/raja-alue-piirros-fi-800.jpg

In occasione della prima chiusura dei valichi di frontiera, avvenuta nel mese di novembre, diverse istituzioni e ONG hanno criticato questa scelta che compromette il diritto a chiedere asilo. Da Amnesty international all’UNHCR fino al Commissario per l’uguaglianza finlandese.

Fra le prese di posizione anche quella della Commissaria per i diritti umani del Consiglio d’Europa, Dunja Mijatović, che in una lettera alla Ministra degli Interni finlandese, Mari Rantanen, ha ricordato che «è fondamentale che gli Stati membri del Consiglio d’Europa, anche in situazioni difficili alle loro frontiere, reagiscono in modo pienamente conforme ai loro obblighi in materia di diritti umani». Ha, inoltre, chiesto chiarimenti sulle salvaguardie attuate e sulle misure adottate per garantire la tutela dei diritti umani e per evitare che si verifichi una crisi umanitaria a causa del peggioramento delle condizioni meteorologiche.

In un comunicato del mese di dicembre, Amnesty International 3 ha affermato che «chiedere asilo è un diritto umano. Il Ministro degli Interni Rantanen sta ignorando i richiedenti asilo e la loro situazione in modo disumano. Nel mondo ci sono più persone che sono state costrette a lasciare le loro case che mai, e limitare il diritto di chiedere asilo non è la risposta».

L’organizzazione per i diritti umani ha sottolineato che dalle loro precedenti ricerche si è dimostrato che la chiusura delle frontiere ha aumentato la violenza e spinto le persone in cerca di asilo su rotte ancora più pericolose.

«Nel profondo sono davvero disperato e spero solo che arrivino giorni migliori, il prima possibile. Mi sento come se vivessi in un inferno fatto di ghiaccio, dove la mia vita è arrivata a un punto in cui non c’è via d’uscita, la fine del mio lungo cammino da quando ho lasciato il mio Paese, la Siria». E’ la testimonianza di Nasser, siriano di 43 anni, raccolta da InfoMigrants 4.

Secondo le informazioni diffuse dal governo finlandese la chiusura dei valichi di frontiera è prevista fino al 14 gennaio. Sarà da capire se questa decisione verrà prorogata e cosa ne è del diritto di asilo in Finlandia.

1. Studentessa di lettere moderne a Padova. Proseguirò i miei studi con una magistrale in relazioni internazionali in quanto sono molto interessata alla politica, internazionale e al sociale
2. Border Closure Raises Fears Among Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia, Ecre (15 dicembre 2023)
3. Il comunicato stampa (finlandese)
4. Stuck at the Russian-Finnish border: ‘I feel that I will die here, in the cold’, Michaël Da Costa – InfoMigrants (4 dicembre 2023)

►https://www.meltingpot.org/2024/01/il-confine-tra-russia-e-finlandia-e-un-inferno-fatto-di-ghiaccio

#sécurité_nationale #ordre_public #Frontex #murs #barrières_frontalières #Pelkola #technologie #asile #droit_d'asile

Entre 2 000 et 3 000 migrants massés à la frontière russo-finlandaise, toujours fermée

Entre 2 000 et 3 000 exilés sont actuellement bloqués à la frontière russo-finlandaise, fermée totalement depuis décembre 2023 et jusqu’en février prochain. Helsinki accuse Moscou d’avoir orchestré cet afflux de migrants pour déstabiliser la Finlande, après son adhésion à l’OTAN en avril dernier. Les relations diplomatiques entre les deux pays n’ont cessé de se dégrader depuis l’offensive russe en Ukraine en 2022.

La pression migratoire s’accroît à la frontière russo-finlandaise. Entre 2 000 et 3 000 migrants sont actuellement bloqués dans la zone frontalière, depuis la fermeture totale de la frontière finlandaise orientale en décembre 2023.

Le pays scandinave reproche à la Russie de laisser passer délibérément un flux de migrants sur le sol finlandais, à des fins politiques, pour ébranler l’Union européenne (UE). De son côté, le Kremlin nie et rejette ces accusations.

Selon Le Monde, la plupart des migrants sont entrés légalement en Russie avant de bénéficier de la complicité d’agents de police russes pour les déposer à la frontière finlandaise qu’ils franchissent en vélo, le franchissement à pied étant interdit.

D’après Euronews, les exilés payent jusqu’à 6 000 euros les passeurs pour atteindre la frontière finlandaise. Dans un témoignage aux Observateurs de France 24, un passeur a également expliqué soudoyer des garde-frontières finlandais pour laisser passer les migrants : « On donne 500 dollars [457 euros, ndlr] aux garde-frontières par migrant ». Depuis la fermeture de la frontière, les passages réussis sont cependant plus rares - voire impossibles. La semaine dernière, quatre migrants ont été interpellés par les garde-frontières finlandais à Parikkala, en Carélie du Sud, alors qu’ils tentaient de franchir la frontière.
Volume inhabituel de demandeurs d’asile

Depuis début août 2023, les autorités finlandaises assure que près de 1 000 demandeurs d’asile sans-papiers, originaires de Somalie, du Yémen ou encore d’Irak, se sont présentés aux postes-frontières séparant les deux pays, pour entrer en Finlande. Un volume inhabituel pour le petit pays nordique de 5,5 millions d’habitants, qui comptabilise d’ordinaire plutôt une dizaine de demandeurs d’asile chaque mois à cette frontière.

En réponse à ces mouvements de population, la Finlande a renforcé ses patrouilles le long de sa frontière. Elle a fait état sur X (ex-Twitter) de « plus de patrouilles que d’habitude, un contrôle technique plus étendu et un équipement plus polyvalent que d’habitude pour les patrouilles ». L’agence des garde-côtes européenne Frontex a également déployé 55 agents à la frontière finlandaise début décembre.

▻https://twitter.com/rajavartijat/status/1747196574554349673

La Finlande a, par ailleurs, entamé en février 2023 la construction d’une clôture de trois mètres de hauteur sur 200 km à sa frontière avec la Russie, longue de 1 340 km, pour anticiper les futurs mouvements de populations.
Détérioration des relations entre la Finlande et la Russie

Helsinki accuse aussi le Kremlin de lui faire payer le prix de sa coopération militaire avec les États-Unis. Le 18 décembre dernier, Washington a signé un accord lui permettant d’accéder à 15 bases militaires en Finlande, et d’y prépositionner du matériel.

Pendant des années, la Finlande a refusé de rejoindre l’Organisation du traité de l’Atlantique nord (OTAN) pour éviter de contrarier son voisin russe. Mais les relations entre les deux pays se sont progressivement dégradées depuis l’invasion russe en l’Ukraine, en février 2022. En avril 2023, la Finlande a finalement rejoint l’OTAN, craignant que l’offensive russe ne s’étende à d’autres pays limitrophes. De son côté, Vladimir Poutine a accusé les Occidentaux d’avoir « entraîné la Finlande dans l’Otan » et affirmé que cette adhésion allait créer des « problèmes » là où il n’y « en avait pas ».

▻https://www.infomigrants.net/fr/post/54531/entre-2-000-et-3-000-migrants-masses-a-la-frontiere-russofinlandaise-t

Finland extended the closure of crossing points at the border with Russia until at least mid-April yesterday.

This also means that no asylum applications can be submitted there.

🇫🇮 first started closing the border in November, after the arrival of hundreds of asylum seekers.

https://pixelfed.zoo-logique.org/storage/m/_v2/578583396227231930/7c649620b-69b6c5/tBCsD1Eur8N0/HKVUwBAbtKnSnnrnbkRgpixyqKQo9Is6Nu6bOUUZ.jpg

▻https://twitter.com/InfoMigrants/status/1755974773224378457

Face à la menace russe, le virage vers l’ouest de la Finlande

https://pixelfed.zoo-logique.org/storage/m/_v2/578583396227231930/062ac74bd-fb82c6/81ed6B66afET/dNRJRNUsQwm4iUkSYI7WwDNnrxqVJZ5xMrYveYuy.png

Helsinki accuse Moscou d’envoyer des migrants à la frontière entre les deux pays, une « #attaque_hybride » en réponse à son adhésion à l’Otan. La fin des échanges, amorcée dès l’épidémie de Covid, transforme la vie locale, mais le pays reste décidé à regarder vers l’Ouest.

Le capitaine Jyrki Karhunen marche seul au milieu d’une nationale enneigée du sud-est de la Finlande. Celle-ci mène au poste-frontière d’Imatra, désert, dans la région de Carélie du Sud. La Russie n’est qu’à quelques kilomètres, cachée derrière les vastes forêts de pins, de sapins et de bouleaux.

« Aujourd’hui, il ne se passe plus rien ici, c’est paisible », explique Jyrki Karhunen. Ce matin de février, seul un SUV de touristes s’introduit dans le paysage figé. « Il est impossible de passer côté russe », indique le capitaine à ces Finlandais en doudoune et lunettes de soleil miroirs. Pour cela, il faut maintenant transiter par l’Estonie ou la Turquie, à plus de 2 000 kilomètres.

En novembre, le gouvernement d’Helsinki a en effet fermé la totalité de sa frontière orientale avec la Russie, longue de 1 340 kilomètres. Ses points de passage resteront fermés au moins jusqu’au 14 avril, à l’exception d’une entrée ouverte au fret. La Finlande, voisine de la Norvège et de la Suède au nord, ouverte sur la mer Baltique à l’ouest et au sud, se coupe ainsi totalement de la Russie, son unique voisine à l’est.

Avant la pandémie de Covid et l’invasion de l’Ukraine par Moscou en 2022, 9 millions de personnes franchissaient chaque année cette longue frontière peu habitée où règne la taïga. Les commerciaux y transportaient le bois des riches forêts et ses produits dérivés. Les 90 000 Russes de Finlande retournaient voir leurs proches. Les touristes russes affluaient sur les rives du grand lac Saimaa, dépensant chaque jour 1 million d’euros dans la région de Carélie du Sud.

Mais l’attaque russe en Ukraine a progressivement affecté ces passages. La Finlande a cessé d’octroyer des visas touristiques aux Russes. Les entreprises locales et russes ont cessé leurs collaborations.
Un pays neutre jusqu’en 2022

La fermeture totale de la frontière est finalement tombée fin 2023, en raison d’une « attaque hybride » de Moscou, selon les termes du gouvernement finlandais. La Russie envoie volontairement des migrants à la frontière, accuse Helsinki. L’opération « hybride » serait une réponse de Moscou à l’entrée de la Finlande dans l’Otan, en avril 2023.

La Finlande, officiellement neutre militairement jusqu’en 2022, était une zone stratégique manquante sur le flanc oriental de l’Alliance atlantique. L’adhésion du pays le plus septentrional de l’UE bouscule la donne militaire de la Baltique à l’Arctique. Le Kremlin avait vite annoncé qu’il prendrait des « contre-mesures ».

Marko Saareks, adjoint à la direction opérationnelle des gardes-frontières, ne « croi[t] pas à une intervention armée russe à la frontière dans l’immédiat ». Mais « la déstabilisation migratoire » est la principale pression, dit-il.

Entre août et novembre 2023, environ 1 300 exilés irakiens, syriens, afghans, yéménites ou d’autres pays d’Asie ou d’Afrique sont arrivés via la Russie, des hommes pour la plupart et quelques familles. Ils ont été « aidés et escortés ou transportés jusqu’à la frontière par les gardes-frontières russes », affirme le premier ministre, Petteri Orpo.

Les arrivées « restent faibles », concèdent les autorités finlandaises, proportionnellement à celles d’autres pays aux frontières externes de l’UE, comme la Grèce. Mais elles sont « inhabituelles » dans ce pays nordique de 5,5 millions d’habitant·es, loin d’être situé sur une route migratoire fréquentée.
La crainte de l’espionnage

« Des migrants attendent de l’autre côté. Ils viendront très probablement dès que nous ouvrirons la frontière. Notre crainte est qu’il y ait des espions parmi eux, précise Marko Saareks. Des migrants sont surveillés par Moscou. Les services de renseignement des consulats russes ont quitté la Finlande. Nous soupçonnons Moscou de vouloir renvoyer des agents. »

Pour être sûre de « contrôler les flux migratoires », poursuit-il, la Finlande construit également une barrière antimigrants de 200 kilomètres de long. Dissimulés derrière les hauts arbres près du poste-frontière d’Imatra, des poteaux d’acier hauts de 3 mètres sortent de la terre gelée. Le chantier, à l’arrêt pendant l’hiver, où le mercure descend jusqu’à − 25 °C, ne doit s’achever qu’en 2026.

Aujourd’hui, rares sont les exilés qui franchissent la frontière fermée. Un seul y est parvenu, frigorifié, mi-février. Il a été envoyé dans l’un des centres de rétention ou d’accueil du pays. Celui de Joutseno, une ancienne prison rénovée perdue entre les bouleaux, à une quinzaine de kilomètres de la frontière, héberge une centaine de réfugié·es.

« Nous ne sommes pas utilisés comme armes par Moscou, personne ne m’a poussé vers la Finlande, c’est mon choix, se défend Moayad Salami, un Syrien venu en novembre, qui parle ouvertement à la presse. C’était pour moi le chemin le plus accessible pour rejoindre l’UE. » Pour cet avocat, « depuis que cette frontière est fermée, les réfugiés tentent leur chance ailleurs ». Mais lui raconte une traversée « facile ».

Il a d’abord acheté un visa russe 2 700 euros à des passeurs pour rejoindre la Russie. Il envisageait de tenter un passage en Pologne via le Bélarus, « mais c’était trop dangereux » au Bélarus, dit-il. Moayad a alors payé des passeurs pour rejoindre la frontière finlandaise en taxi depuis Saint-Pétersbourg, à 160 kilomètres d’ici.

Avant 2022, un filtrage aux postes-frontières était censé être opéré selon un accord tacite entre la Russie et la Finlande. « Les gardes-frontières russes m’ont laissé partir sans problème, relate Moayad. Mais ils m’ont forcé à leur acheter un vélo à 270 euros pour traverser. » Il ajoute : « Des gardes-frontières russes m’ont ensuite suivi en voiture à distance, pour être sûrs, j’imagine, que je partais bien du pays. »

Comme lui, plusieurs exilés interrogés assurent avoir été contraints d’acheter à un prix trop élevé des vélos « de mauvaise qualité, qui ne valaient même pas 15-20 euros », à des gardes-frontières ou à leurs « complices ».

D’autres réfugiés expliquent être restés quelque temps en Russie avant de rejoindre la Finlande. Viku*, un ressortissant pakistanais qui ne souhaite pas donner son nom, a ainsi vécu deux ans à Saint-Pétersbourg. « J’ai étudié les technologies de l’information, je ne trouvais pas d’emploi dans mon secteur et je me sentais harcelé par les autorités. Alors je suis venu en Finlande pour travailler. On dit que c’est le pays où l’on est le plus heureux au monde ! », sourit-il.

Samir*, un Afghan de 23 ans, en doute, tant le temps s’écoule lentement dans le centre isolé. Étudiant en Russie, il a fui après l’expiration de son visa, « de peur d’être renvoyé en Afghanistan sous la coupe des talibans ». Comme la majorité des réfugiés ici, il attend un entretien qui ne vient pas pour sa demande d’asile.

« Ces personnes viennent de pays en tension, ou en guerre, comme le Yémen et la Syrie, et sont pour la plupart éligibles à l’asile. Il est absurde de les considérer soudain comme les armes d’une opération hybride, déplore Pia Lindfors, directrice du Centre finlandais de conseil pour les réfugiés, à Helsinki. S’ils étaient des espions, comme l’ont suggéré certaines autorités et hommes politiques, ils ne seraient pas arrivés en tant que demandeurs d’asile. Ils ne seraient pas isolés dans des camps comme ils le sont actuellement. »

Pia Lindfors déplore la fermeture de cette frontière, contraire au droit d’asile. Tout comme le discours radicalement antimigrants, porté par le Parti des Finlandais, qui gagne du terrain. Cette force politique d’extrême droite a placé ses membres à des postes clés du gouvernement de Petteri Orpo, formé en juin 2023. Celui-ci comprend des membres de quatre partis : la Coalition nationale, présidée par Petteri Orpo, le Parti populaire suédois de Finlande, les chrétiens-démocrates et le Parti des Finlandais. Ce dernier parti extrémiste affiche de longue date son hostilité à l’immigration, qu’il juge « préjudiciable aux finances et à la sécurité ».

La politique de défense se mélange aujourd’hui à la politique migratoire, au nom de la « sécurité nationale ». La tendance se retrouve dans d’autres pays de l’UE. La Pologne, à titre d’exemple, est accusée de bafouer les droits des demandeurs et demandeuses d’asile à sa frontière avec le Bélarus, qu’elle accuse aussi de « guerre hybride ». Mais ces dérogations d’accès à l’asile pourraient devenir légales à l’échelle européenne, alertent des ONG : la Commission européenne discute de mesures exceptionnelles à mettre en place en cas de « situations d’instrumentalisation de l’immigration ».
Une logique de « dissuasion »

La pression migratoire est-elle la seule « menace russe » qui pousse à la fermeture totale de la frontière ? La Baltique, qui borde la Finlande, est un point de tension. Le sabotage des gazoducs Nord Stream, en 2022, n’a toujours pas été élucidé. La Russie a lancé en août des manœuvres navales et aériennes dans cette vaste mer, baptisées « Bouclier océanique 2023 ». Enfin, en décembre, Vladimir Poutine a déclaré : « Il n’y avait aucun problème [à la frontière finlandaise], mais il y en aura maintenant, car nous allons créer le district militaire de Léningrad et y concentrer un certain nombre d’unités. »

« En Finlande, nous n’avons pas peur de Poutine, mais nous surveillons de près ses actions, déclare avec assurance Pekka Toveri, un député du parti de la Coalition nationale. Comme lui, six anciens militaires siègent aujourd’hui dans l’hémicycle de 200 député·es, un nombre inédit.

Pekka Toveri étale les atouts militaires d’une Finlande « qui est prête » en cas d’attaque. « Nous avons une bonne armée, 12 000 soldats et quelque 870 000 réservistes, nos entreprises sont prêtes à contribuer à l’effort de guerre », expose l’ancien officier qui veut maintenant « participer au défi d’adhésion à l’Otan ». Environ 60 à 65 % de la population y était réticente avant le conflit ukrainien, « mais la grande majorité y est favorable depuis la guerre en Ukraine », plaide-t-il.

Partisan d’un engagement sans limite dans l’Alliance atlantique, le président élu en février et investi le 1er mars, Alexander Stubb, est maintenant prêt à autoriser le stockage et le transport d’armes nucléaires sur le territoire. Parallèlement, Helsinki a renforcé sa coopération militaire avec les États-Unis, autorisant l’armée américaine à accéder à quinze installations et zones finlandaises.

Le virage vers l’ouest est indispensable, considère Pekka Toveri. « Nous connaissons bien les Russes, nous savons que la technique du bâton est celle qui fonctionne le mieux. Il faut rester ferme, la plainte ne fonctionne pas », détaille-t-il, basant son analyse sur un siècle de relations avec le voisin russe.

La Finlande a fait partie de l’empire russe jusqu’en 1917, avant d’être indépendante. Elle n’a jamais appartenu à l’Union des républiques socialistes soviétiques (URSS). Mais l’attaque de la Finlande par les Soviétiques en 1939, dite guerre d’hiver, a marqué les esprits. « Nous savions que Moscou était capable de nous menacer. Notre principe de neutralité [revendiqué depuis la fin des années 1940 – ndlr] était comme une politique du Yin et du Yang, estime Pekka Toveri. Nous avions une politique de bon voisinage mais nous étions prudents et avions une bonne défense. Nous avons par exemple construit des bunkers capables d’abriter 900 000 personnes depuis le début de la guerre froide. »

Pour Heikki Patomaki, professeur de relations internationales à l’université d’Helsinki, une mentalité basée sur une « croyance presque exclusive dans la dissuasion et à travers la militarisation rapide de la société » s’intensifie depuis 2022.

À la chute de l’URSS, surtout, les liens des deux pays s’étaient réchauffés : « Le non-alignement militaire persistant et les nombreuses formes de commerce et de coopération avec la Russie ont facilité de bonnes relations, au moins jusqu’à l’invasion de la Crimée en 2014 et, d’une certaine manière, jusqu’en 2021-2022, note-t-il. Rompre tout dialogue et continuer dans cette logique pourrait être dangereux. Nous avons une longue histoire avec la Russie et ne pouvons pas appliquer cette solution simple à une relation complexe. La Russie ne va pas disparaître et nous avons également un futur avec elle. »

Signe que la situation est incertaine, les officiels l’accordent : la fermeture de la frontière ne peut être définitive. « Ce n’est pas notre but. Nous avons des échanges commerciaux et une diaspora russe, souligne l’adjoint à la direction opérationnelle des gardes-frontières, Marko Saareks. Mais nous cherchons encore les solutions pour l’ouvrir sans risques. »

▻https://www.mediapart.fr/journal/international/010324/face-la-menace-russe-le-virage-vers-l-ouest-de-la-finlande

#Joutseno #Imatra

Finland decides to close border with Russia indefinitely

The Finnish government has decided to keep the border with Russia closed “until further notice,” Finland’s Interior Ministry reported on April 4.

Finland closed its border with Russia in late November 2023 after Russia orchestrated an influx of migrants as a way to pressure Helsinki.

In November alone, around 900 asylum seekers from countries like Kenya, Morocco, Pakistan, Somalia, and Yemen entered Finland from Russia.

Finland decided in February to keep the border closed until April 14, but the latest decision means that the border crossing will remain shut until the risk of “instrumentalized migration” falls, the Interior Ministry said.

“The threat assessment is the same and also the assessment that if the border stations were to be opened, it would probably have led to the same situation as before, when they were opened,” Prime Minister Petteri Orpo said in parliament, according to Finnish newspaper Helsingin Sanomat.

Finland’s government also decided to close several crossing points for maritime traffic to leisure boating due to concerns that Russia may encourage migrants to reach Finland by sea or over lakes.

“This would be dangerous for people trying to land and would put a burden on sea rescue,” the Interior Ministry said.

Russia’s strategy of sending asylum seekers to Finland’s eastern border was similar to the situation at the border between Belarus and Poland in 2021, when Minsk encouraged thousands of asylum seekers from the Middle East and Africa to try to reach the EU via the Polish border.

Most of the migrants were violently pushed back by Polish border guards who set up a no-access zone at the border for nine months.

▻https://kyivindependent.com/finland-decides-to-close-border-with-russia-indefinitely

Finland closes border crossings with Russia indefinitely

https://pixelfed.zoo-logique.org/storage/m/_v2/578583396227231930/c6a394f69-21cf85/kyLFxy3IaH8k/S6KwdFQTta5XAh0eLr8PxZiXtCPpgcZFTS84JjNd.png

The Finnish government has announced the country’s border with Russia will remain closed indefinitely. The decision comes on the heels of several closures and reopenings over the past five months.

On Thursday (April 4), the Finnish Ministry of the Interior said the country’s border crossings with neighboring Russia will remain closed.

The move comes after the government in February ordered the closure of the border until April 14. As of April 4, this measure has now been extended until further notice.

In addition, the sea crossings on the island of Haapasaari, in the port of Nuijamaa and on the island of Santio will be closed to “leisure boating” from April 15. Finland wants to prevent the threat of targeted migration from Russia in the spring by closing the harbors to maritime traffic.

In the press release, the government said that irregular migration into Finland from Russia “could expand to maritime traffic” during spring. “This would be dangerous to people seeking to enter Finland and would burden maritime search and rescue,” the government claims.

The indefinite closure means that migrants will still not be able to apply for asylum at the border crossings — with the exception of “other border crossing points for maritime traffic and at border crossing points for air traffic,” a corresponding press release (▻https://intermin.fi/en/-/finland-s-eastern-border-to-remain-closed-until-further-notice) reads.

’Instrumentalized migration’ expected to increase

According to the press release, the Finnish government expects the “instrumentalized migration” from Russia to continue and increase. This would pose a “serious threat to Finland’s national security and public order,” the press release reads.

“Finnish authorities see this as a long-term situation. We have not seen anything this spring that would lead us to conclude that the situation has changed meaningfully,” Finland’s Minister of the Interior Mari Rantanen is quoted in the press release. “In addition, spring will provide opportunities to put more pressure on Finland. There are hundreds and possibly thousands of people close to Finland’s border on the Russian side that could be instrumentalized against Finland.”

Finland, which shares a more than 1,300-kilometer-long border with Russia, began gradually closing (▻https://www.infomigrants.net/en/post/53925/finland-to-close-entire-border-with-russia-again) the frontier crossings in November.

Despite both being external borders for the EU and NATO following Finland’s inclusion in the military alliance a year ago, the Finnish-Russian border runs mostly through taiga forests and does not follow any rivers.

Rights groups including the Council of Europe have been raising concerns over the rights of refugees, asylum seekers and migrants amid the border closures with Russia.

The Finnish authorities, meanwhile, accuse Moscow of deliberately bringing undocumented asylum seekers to the posts in order to cause problems for the EU and NATO country. The Kremlin denies this.

There were no immediate reactions to Finland’s move by the Kremlin in Moscow.

▻https://www.infomigrants.net/en/post/56264/finland-closes-border-crossings-with-russia-indefinitely

Documentary Space, Place, and Landscape

In documentaries of the occupied West Bank, erasure is imaged in the wall that sunders families and communities, in the spaces filled with blackened tree stumps of former olive groves, now missing to ensure “security,” and in the cactus that still grows, demarcating cultivated land whose owners have been expelled.

This materiality of the landscape becomes figural, such that Shehadeh writes, “[w]hen you are exiled from your land … you begin, like a pornographer, to think about it in symbols. You articulate your love for your land in its absence, and in the process transform it into something else.’’[x] The symbolization reifies and, in this process, something is lost, namely, a potential for thinking differently. But in these Palestinian films we encounter a documenting of the now of everyday living that unfixes such reification. This is a storytelling of vignettes, moments, digressions, stories within stories, and postponed endings. These are stories of interaction, of something happening, in a documenting of a being and doing now, while awaiting a future yet to be known, and at the same time asserting a past history to be remembered through these images and sounds. Through this there arises the accenting of these films, to draw on Hamid Naficy’s term, namely a specific tone of a past—the Nakba or catastrophe—as a continuing present, insofar as the conflict does not allow Palestinians to imagine themselves in a determinate future of place and landscape they can call their own, namely a state.[xi]

In Hanna Musleh’s I’m a Little Angel (2000), we follow the children of families, both Muslim and Christian, in the area of Bethlehem affected by the 2000 Israeli armed forces attacks and occupation.[xii] One small boy, Nicola, suffered the loss of an arm when he was hit by a shell when walking to church with his mother. His kite, seen flying high in the sky, brings delighted shrieks from Nicola as he plays on the family terrace from which the town and its surrounding hills are visible in the distance. But the contrast between the freedom of the kite in this unlimited vista and his reduced capacity is palpable as he struggles to control it with his remaining hand. The containment of both Nicola and his community is figured in opposition to a possible freedom. What is also required of us is to think not of freedom from the constraints of disability, but of freedom with disability, in a future to be made after. The constraints introduced upon the landscape by the occupation, however, make the future of such living indeterminate and uncertain. Here is the “cinema of the lived,”[xiii] of multiple times of past and present, of possible and imagined future time, and the actualized present, each of which is encountered in the movement in a singular space of Nicola and his kite.

http://static1.1.sqspcdn.com/static/f/707453/13224826/1310788433400/Cowie_11_Cactus.jpg?token=X%2BwmalVDCYGWhutGiHAiD8ooX1A%3D#.jpg

Memory of the Cactus

A 42 minute documentary film that combines the cactus and the memories it stands for. The film addresses the story of the destruction of the Palestinian villages of Latroun in the Occupied West Bank and the forcible transfer of their civilian population in 1967. Over 40 years later, the Israeli occupation continues, and villagers remain displaced. The film follows two separate but parallel journeys. Aisha Um Najeh takes us down the painful road that Palestinians have been forcefully pushed down, separating them in time and place from the land they nurtured; while Israelis walk freely through that land, enjoying its fruits. The stems of the cactus, however, take a few of them to discover the reality of the crime committed.

▻https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DQ_LjknRHVA

Lubya’s historiography

https://image.slidesharecdn.com/kopiaflubya-2-141215080719-conversion-gate01/95/lubyas-historiography-4-638.jpg?cb=1418631177#.jpg https://image.slidesharecdn.com/kopiaflubya-2-141215080719-conversion-gate01/95/lubyas-historiography-5-638.jpg?cb=1418631177#.jpg https://image.slidesharecdn.com/kopiaflubya-2-141215080719-conversion-gate01/95/lubyas-historiography-6-638.jpg?cb=1418631177#.jpg

https://image.slidesharecdn.com/kopiaflubya-2-141215080719-conversion-gate01/95/lubyas-historiography-9-638.jpg?cb=1418631177#.jpg https://image.slidesharecdn.com/kopiaflubya-2-141215080719-conversion-gate01/95/lubyas-historiography-13-638.jpg?cb=1418631177#.jpg https://image.slidesharecdn.com/kopiaflubya-2-141215080719-conversion-gate01/95/lubyas-historiography-16-638.jpg?cb=1418631177#.jpg

Aujourd’hui, j’ai re-regardé le film « Le village sous la forêt », car je vais le projeter à mes étudiant·es dans le cadre du cours de #géographie_culturelle la semaine prochaine.

Voici donc quelques citations tirées du film :

Sur une des boîtes de récolte d’argent pour planter des arbres en Palestine, c’est noté « make wilderness bloom » :

https://i.imgur.com/nRJQejT.png

Voici les panneaux de quelques parcs et forêts créés grâce aux fonds de la #diaspora_juive :

https://i.imgur.com/rPVqqUb.png https://i.imgur.com/gp6DRSV.png https://i.imgur.com/FID0SSv.png

Projet : « We will make it green, like a modern European country » (ce qui est en étroit lien avec un certaine idée de #développement, liée au #progrès).

Témoignage d’une femme palestinienne :

« Ils ont planté des arbres partout qui cachaient tout »

Ilan Pappé, historien israëlien, Université d’Exter :

« ça leur a pris entre 6 et 9 mois poru s’emparer de 80% de la Palestine, expulser la plupart des personnes qui y vivaient et reconstruire sur les villes et villages de ces personnes un nouvel Etat, une nouvelle #identité »

▻https://socialsciences.exeter.ac.uk/iais/staff/pappe

Témoignage d’un palestinien qui continue à retourner régulièrement à Lubya :

« Si je n’aimais pas cet endroit, est-ce que je continuerais à revenir ici tout le temps sur mon tracteur ? Ils l’ont transformé en forêt afin d’affirmer qu’il n’y a pas eu de village ici. Mais on peut voir les #cactus qui prouvent que des arabes vivaient ici »

Ilan Pappé :

« Ces villages éaient arabes, tout comme le paysage alentour. C’était un message qui ne passait pas auprès du mouvement sioniste. Des personnes du mouvement ont écrit à ce propos, ils ont dit qu’ils n’aimaient vraiment pas, comme Ben Gurion l’a dit, que le pays ait toujours l’air arabe. (...) Même si les Arabes n’y vivent plus, ça a toujours l’air arabe. En ce qui concerne les zones rurales, il a été clair : les villages devaient être dévastés pour qu’il n’y ait pas de #souvenirs possibles. Ils ont commencé à les dévaster dès le mois d’août 1948. Ils ont rasé les maisons, la terre. Plus rien ne restait. Il y avait deux moyens pour eux d’en nier l’existence : le premier était de planter des forêts de pins européens sur les villages. Dans la plupart des cas, lorsque les villages étaient étendus et les terres assez vastes, on voit que les deux stratégies ont été mises en oeuvre : il y a un nouveau quartier juif et, juste à côté, une forêt. En effet, la deuxième méthode était de créer un quartier juif qui possédait presque le même nom que l’ancien village arabe, mais dans sa version en hébreu. L’objectif était double : il s’agissait d’abord de montrer que le lieu était originellement juif et revenait ainsi à son propriétaire. Ensuite, l’idée était de faire passer un message sinistre aux Palestiniens sur ce qui avait eu lieu ici. Le principal acteur de cette politique a été le FNJ. »

#toponymie

Heidi Grunebaum, la réalisatrice :

« J’ai grandi au moment où le FNJ cultivait l’idée de créer une patrie juive grâce à la plantation d’arbres. Dans les 100 dernières années, 260 millions d’arbres ont été plantés. Je me rends compte à présent que la petite carte du grand Israël sur les boîtes bleues n’était pas juste un symbole. Etait ainsi affirmé que toutes ces terres étaient juives. Les #cartes ont été redessinées. Les noms arabes des lieux ont sombré dans l’oubli à cause du #Comité_de_Dénomination créé par le FNJ. 86 forêts du FNJ ont détruit des villages. Des villages comme Lubya ont cessé d’exister. Lubya est devenu Lavie. Une nouvelle histoire a été écrite, celle que j’ai apprise. »

https://i.imgur.com/hKqgvQJ.png

Le #Canada_park :

Canada Park (Hebrew: פארק קנדה‎, Arabic: كندا حديقة‎, also Ayalon Park,) is an Israeli national park stretching over 7,000 dunams (700 hectares), and extending from No man’s land into the West Bank.
The park is North of Highway 1 (Tel Aviv-Jerusalem), between the Latrun Interchange and Sha’ar HaGai, and contains a Hasmonean fort, Crusader fort, other archaeological remains and the ruins of 3 Palestinian villages razed by Israel in 1967 after their inhabitants were expelled. In addition it has picnic areas, springs and panoramic hilltop views, and is a popular Israeli tourist destination, drawing some 300,000 visitors annually.

https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/4/4a/CanadaParkCropped.jpg/400px-CanadaParkCropped.jpg

Heidi Grunebaum :

« Chaque pièce de monnaie est devenue un arbre dans une forêt, chaque arbre, dont les racines étaient plantées dans la terre était pour nous, la diaspora. Les pièces changées en arbres devenaient des faits ancrés dans le sol. Le nouveau paysage arrangé par le FNJ à travers la plantation de forêts et les accords politiques est celui des #parcs_de_loisirs, des routes, des barrages et des infrastructures »

Témoignage d’un Palestinien :

« Celui qui ne possède de #pays_natal ne possède rien »

Heidi Grunebaum :

« Si personne ne demeure, la mémoire est oblitérée. Cependant, de génération en génération, le souvenir qu’ont les Palestiniens d’un endroit qui un jour fut le leur, persiste. »

Témoignage d’un Palestinien :

"Dès qu’on mange quelque chose chez nous, on dit qu’on mangeait ce plat à Lubya. Quelles que soient nos activités, on dit que nous avions les mêmes à Lubya. Lubya est constamment mentionnées, et avec un peu d’amertume.

Témoignage d’un Palestinien :

Lubya est ma fille précieuse que j’abriterai toujours dans les profondeurs de mon âme. Par les histoires racontées par mon père, mon grand-père, mes oncles et ma grande-mère, j’ai le sentiment de connaître très bien Lubya.

Avi Shlaim, Université de Oxford :

« Le mur dans la partie Ouest ne relève pas d’une mesure de sécurité, comme il a été dit. C’est un outil de #ségrégation des deux communautés et un moyen de s’approprier de larges portions de terres palestiniennes. C’est un moyen de poursuivre la politique d’#expansion_territoriale et d’avoir le plus grand Etat juif possible avec le moins de population d’arabes à l’intérieur. »

▻https://www.sant.ox.ac.uk/people/avi-shlaim

Heidi Grunebaum :

« Les petites pièces de la diaspora n’ont pas seulement planté des arbres juifs et déraciné des arbres palestiniens, elles ont aussi créé une forêt d’un autre type. Une vaste forêt bureaucratique où la force de la loi est une arme. La règlementation règne, les procédures, permis, actions commandées par les lois, tout régulé le moindre espace de la vie quotidienne des Palestiniens qui sont petit à petit étouffés, repoussés aux marges de leurs terres. Entassés dans des ghettos, sans autorisation de construire, les Palestiniens n’ont plus qu’à regarder leurs maisons démolies »

#Lubya #paysage #ruines #architecture_forensique #Afrique_du_Sud #profanation #cactus #South_african_forest #Galilée #Jewish_national_fund (#fonds_national_juif) #arbres #Palestine #Organisation_des_femmes_sionistes #Keren_Kayemeth #apartheid #résistance #occupation #Armée_de_libération_arabe #Hagana #nakba #exil #réfugiés_palestiniens #expulsion #identité #present_absentees #IDPs #déplacés_internes #Caesarea #oubli #déni #historicisation #diaspora #murs #barrières_frontalières #dépossession #privatisation_des_terres #terres #mémoire #commémoration #poésie #Canada_park

The Carmel wildfire is burning all illusions in Israel

“When I look out my window today and see a tree standing there, that tree gives me a greater sense of beauty and personal delight than all the vast forests I have seen in Switzerland or Scandinavia. Because every tree here was planted by us.”

– David Ben Gurion, Memoirs

“Why are there so many Arabs here? Why didn’t you chase them away?”

– David Ben Gurion during a visit to Nazareth, July 1948

https://electronicintifada.net/sites/default/files/styles/original_800w/public/2010-12/101206-forest-fire.jpg?itok=siE1P_1j×tamp=1448949295#.jpg

signalé par @sinehebdo que je remercie

#uprooted

https://i.imgur.com/lDcp6DN.jpg

#Canada_park in the Valley of #Ayalon:

https://i.imgur.com/3I4RyWU.png

source:
►http://www.ijan.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/FINAL-JNFeBookVol4.pdf (p.108)

https://i.imgur.com/HIoWqOY.png

https://i.imgur.com/TINC4Lk.png

Vu dans ce rapport, signalé par @palestine___________ , que je remercie (►https://seenthis.net/messages/723321) :

A method of enforcing the eradication of unrecognized Palestinian villages is to ensure their misrepresentation on maps. As part of this policy, these villages do not appear at all on Israeli maps, with the exception of army and hiking maps. Likewise, they do not appear on first sight on Google Maps or at all on Israeli maps, with the exception of army and hiking maps. They are labelled on NGO maps designed to increase their visibility. On Google Maps, the Bedouin villages are marked – in contrast to cities and other villages – under their Bedouin tribe and clan names (Bimkom) rather than with their village names and are only visible when zooming in very closely, but otherwise appear to be non-existent. This means that when looking at Google Maps, these villages appear to be not there, only when zooming on to a very high degree, do they appear with their tribe or clan names. At first (and second and third) sight, therefore, these villages are simply not there. Despite their small size, Israeli villages are displayed even when zoomed-out, while unrecognized Palestinian Bedouin villages, regardless of their size are only visible when zooming in very closely.

https://i.imgur.com/EkEE2Py.png

Signalé par @sinehebdo :
▻https://seenthis.net/messages/317236#message725066

Canada Park / Parc Canada :

Israël-Palestine, des arbres qui cachent la colonisation
Adèle Ribuot et Nadav Joffe, Orient XXI, le 19 septembre 2018

►https://seenthis.net/messages/725068

Declassified: Israel Made Sure Arabs Couldn’t Return to Their Villages

Trove of archival documents reveals how Israel prevented Arabs from returning to villages they had left in 1948 – chiefly, by razing structures and planting dense forests.

▻https://www.haaretz.com/.premium-israel-lifted-military-rule-over-arabs-in-1966-only-after-ensuring
#paywall

signalé par @kassem :
▻https://seenthis.net/messages/317236#message784258

Israel lifted its military rule over the state’s Arab community in 1966 only after ascertaining that its members could not return to the villages they had fled or been expelled from, according to newly declassified archival documents.

The documents both reveal the considerations behind the creation of the military government 18 years earlier, and the reasons for dismantling it and revoking the severe restrictions it imposed on Arab citizens in the north, the Negev and the so-called Triangle of Locales in central Israel.

These records were made public as a result of a campaign launched against the state archives by the Akevot Institute, which researches the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

After the War of Independence in 1948, the state imposed military rule over Arabs living around the country, which applied to an estimated 85 percent of that community at the time, say researchers at the NGO. The Arabs in question were subject to the authority of a military commander who could limit their freedom of movement, declare areas to be closed zones, or demand that the inhabitants leave and enter certain locales only with his written permission.

The newly revealed documents describe the ways Israel prevented Arabs from returning to villages they had left in 1948, even after the restrictions on them had been lifted. The main method: dense planting of trees within and surrounding these towns.

At a meeting held in November 1965 at the office of Shmuel Toledano, the prime minister’s adviser on Arab affairs, there was a discussion about villages that had been left behind and that Israel did not want to be repopulated, according to one document. To ensure that, the state had the Jewish National Fund plant trees around and in them.

Among other things, the document states that “the lands belonging to the above-mentioned villages were given to the custodian for absentee properties” and that “most were leased for work (cultivation of field crops and olive groves) by Jewish households.” Some of the properties, it adds, were subleased.

In the meeting in Toledano’s office, it was explained that these lands had been declared closed military zones, and that once the structures on them had been razed, and the land had been parceled out, forested and subject to proper supervision – their definition as closed military zones could be lifted.

On April 3, 1966, another discussion was held on the same subject, this time at the office of the defense minister, Levi Eshkol, who was also the serving prime minister; the minutes of this meeting were classified as top secret. Its participants included: Toledano; Isser Harel, in his capacity as special adviser to the prime minister; the military advocate general – Meir Shamgar, who would later become president of the Supreme Court; and representatives of the Shin Bet security service and Israel Police.

The newly publicized record of that meeting shows that the Shin Bet was already prepared at that point to lift the military rule over the Arabs and that the police and army could do so within a short time.

Regarding northern Israel, it was agreed that “all the areas declared at the time to be closed [military] zones... other than Sha’ab [east of Acre] would be opened after the usual conditions were fulfilled – razing of the buildings in the abandoned villages, forestation, establishment of nature reserves, fencing and guarding.” The dates of the reopening these areas would be determined by Israel Defense Forces Maj. Gen. Shamir, the minutes said. Regarding Sha’ab, Harel and Toledano were to discuss that subject with Shamir.

However, as to Arab locales in central Israel and the Negev, it was agreed that the closed military zones would remain in effect for the time being, with a few exceptions.

Even after military rule was lifted, some top IDF officers, including Chief of Staff Tzvi Tzur and Shamgar, opposed the move. In March 1963, Shamgar, then military advocate general, wrote a pamphlet about the legal basis of the military administration; only 30 copies were printed. (He signed it using his previous, un-Hebraized name, Sternberg.) Its purpose was to explain why Israel was imposing its military might over hundreds of thousands of citizens.

Among other things, Shamgar wrote in the pamphlet that Regulation 125, allowing certain areas to be closed off, is intended “to prevent the entry and settlement of minorities in border areas,” and that “border areas populated by minorities serve as a natural, convenient point of departure for hostile elements beyond the border.” The fact that citizens must have permits in order to travel about helps to thwart infiltration into the rest of Israel, he wrote.

Regulation 124, he noted, states that “it is essential to enable nighttime ambushes in populated areas when necessary, against infiltrators.” Blockage of roads to traffic is explained as being crucial for the purposes of “training, tests or maneuvers.” Moreover, censorship is a “crucial means for counter-intelligence.”

Despite Shamgar’s opinion, later that year, Prime Minister Levi Eshkol canceled the requirement for personal travel permits as a general obligation. Two weeks after that decision, in November 1963, Chief of Staff Tzur wrote a top-secret letter about implementation of the new policy to the officers heading the various IDF commands and other top brass, including the head of Military Intelligence. Tzur ordered them to carry it out in nearly all Arab villages, with a few exceptions – among them Barta’a and Muqeible, in northern Israel.

In December 1965, Haim Israeli, an adviser to Defense Minister Eshkol, reported to Eshkol’s other aides, Isser Harel and Aviad Yaffeh, and to the head of the Shin Bet, that then-Chief of Staff Yitzhak Rabin opposed legislation that would cancel military rule over the Arab villages. Rabin explained his position in a discussion with Eshkol, at which an effort to “soften” the bill was discussed. Rabin was advised that Harel would be making his own recommendations on this matter.

At a meeting held on February 27, 1966, Harel issued orders to the IDF, the Shin Bet and the police concerning the prime minister’s decision to cancel military rule. The minutes of the discussion were top secret, and began with: “The mechanism of the military regime will be canceled. The IDF will ensure the necessary conditions for establishment of military rule during times of national emergency and war.” However, it was decided that the regulations governing Israel’s defense in general would remain in force, and at the behest of the prime minister and with his input, the justice minister would look into amending the relevant statutes in Israeli law, or replacing them.

The historical documents cited here have only made public after a two-year campaign by the Akevot institute against the national archives, which preferred that they remain confidential, Akevot director Lior Yavne told Haaretz. The documents contain no information of a sensitive nature vis-a-vis Israel’s security, Yavne added, and even though they are now in the public domain, the archives has yet to upload them to its website to enable widespread access.

“Hundreds of thousands of files which are crucial to understanding the recent history of the state and society in Israel remain closed in the government archive,” he said. “Akevot continues to fight to expand public access to archival documents – documents that are property of the public.”

v. aussi #Ground_Truth
▻https://seenthis.net/messages/788119

signalé par @sinehebdo :
▻https://seenthis.net/messages/317236#message798085

« Manigancer une majorité juive à Jérusalem » : les Palestiniens chassés par les politiques « vertes » d’Israël
Jan-Peter Westad, Middle East Eye, le 20 août 2019
►https://seenthis.net/messages/798033
#Wadi_Yasul

Israel is turning an ancient Palestinian village into a national park for settlers

The unbelievable story of a village outside Jerusalem: from its destruction in 1948 to the ticket issued last week by a parks ranger to a descendent of its refugees, who had the gall to harvest the fruits of his labor on his own land.

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Thus read the ticket issued last Wednesday, during the Sukkot holiday, by ranger Dayan Somekh of the Israel Nature and Parks Authority – Investigations Division, 3 Am Ve’olamo Street, Jerusalem, to farmer Nidal Abed Rabo, a resident of the Jerusalem-area village of Walaja, who had gone to harvest olives on his private land: “In accordance with Section 228 of the criminal code, to: Nidal Abed Rabo. Description of the facts constituting the offense: ‘picking, chopping and destroying an olive tree.’ Suspect’s response: ‘I just came to pick olives. I pick them and put them in a bucket.’ Fine prescribed by law: 730 shekels [$207].” And an accompanying document that reads: “I hereby confirm that I apprehended from Nidal Abed Rabo the following things: 1. A black bucket; 2. A burlap sack. Name of the apprehending officer: Dayan Somekh.”

Ostensibly, an amusing parody about the occupation. An inspector fines a person for harvesting the fruits of his own labor on his own private land and then fills out a report about confiscating a bucket, because order must be preserved, after all. But no one actually found this report amusing – not the inspector who apparently wrote it in utter seriousness, nor the farmer who must now pay the fine.

Indeed, the story of Walaja, where this absurdity took place, contains everything – except humor: the flight from and evacuation of the village in 1948; refugee-hood and the establishment of a new village adjacent to the original one; the bisection of the village between annexed Jerusalem and the occupied territories in 1967; the authorities’ refusal to issue blue Israeli IDs to residents, even though their homes are in Jerusalem; the demolition of many structures built without a permit in a locale that has no master construction plan; the appropriation of much of its land to build the Gilo neighborhood and the Har Gilo settlement; the construction of the separation barrier that turned the village into an enclave enclosed on all sides; the decision to turn villagers’ remaining lands into a national park for the benefit of Gilo’s residents and others in the area; and all the way to the ridiculous fine issued by Inspector Somekh.

This week, a number of villagers again snuck onto their lands to try to pick their olives, in what looks like it could be their final harvest. As it was a holiday, they hoped the Border Police and the parks authority inspectors would leave them alone. By next year, they probably won’t be able to reach their groves at all, as the checkpoint will have been moved even closer to their property.

Then there was also this incident, on Monday, the Jewish holiday of Simhat Torah. Three adults, a teenager and a horse arrived at the neglected groves on the mountainside below their village of Walaja. They had to take a long and circuitous route; they say the horse walked 25 kilometers to reach the olive trees that are right under their noses, beneath their homes. A dense barbed-wire fence and the separation barrier stand between these people and their lands. When the national park is built here and the checkpoint is moved further south – so that only Jews will be able to dip undisturbed in Ein Hanya, as Nir Hasson reported (“Jerusalem reopens natural spring, but not to Palestinians,” Oct. 15) – it will mean the end of Walaja’s olive orchards, which are planted on terraced land.

The remaining 1,200 dunams (300 acres) belonging to the village, after most of its property was lost over the years, will also be disconnected from their owners, who probably won’t be able to access them again. An ancient Palestinian village, which numbered 100 registered households in 1596, in a spectacular part of the country, will continue its slow death, until it finally expires for good.

Steep slopes and a deep green valley lie between Jerusalem and Bethlehem, filled with oak and pine trees, along with largely abandoned olive groves. “New” Walaja overlooks this expanse from the south, the Gilo neighborhood from the northeast, and the Cremisan Monastery from the east. To the west is where the original village was situated, between the moshavim of Aminadav and Ora, both constructed after the villagers fled – frightened off by the massacre in nearby Deir Yassin and in fear of bombardment.

Aviv Tatarsky, a longtime political activist on behalf of Walaja and a researcher for the Ir Amim nonprofit organization, says the designated national park is supposed to ensure territorial contiguity between the Etzion Bloc and Jerusalem. “Since we are in the territory of Jerusalem, and building another settler neighborhood could cause a stir, they are building a national park, which will serve the same purpose,” he says. “The national park will Judaize the area once and for all. Gilo is five minutes away. If you live there, you will have a park right next door and feel like it’s yours.”

As Tatarsky describes the blows suffered by the village over the years, brothers Walid and Mohammed al-‘Araj stand on a ladder below in the valley, in the shade of the olive trees, engrossed in the harvest.

Walid, 52, and Mohammed, 58, both live in Walaja. Walid may be there legally, but his brother is there illegally, on land bequeathed to them by their uncle – thanks to yet another absurdity courtesy of the occupation. In 1995, Walid married a woman from Shoafat in East Jerusalem, and thus was able to obtain a blue Israeli ID card, so perhaps he is entitled to be on his land. His brother, who lives next door, however, is an illegal resident on his land: He has an orange ID, as a resident of the territories.

A sewage line that comes out of Beit Jala and is under the responsibility of Jerusalem’s Gihon water company overflows every winter and floods the men’s olive grove with industrial waste that has seriously damaged their crop. And that’s in addition, of course, to the fact that most of the family is unable to go work the land. The whole area looks quite derelict, overgrown with weeds and brambles that could easily catch fire. In previous years, the farmers would receive an entry permit allowing them to harvest the olives for a period of just a few days; this year, even that permit has not yet been forthcoming.

The olives are black and small; it’s been a bad year for them and for their owners.

“We come here like thieves to our own land,” says Mohammed, the older brother, explaining that three days beforehand, a Border Police jeep had showed up and chased them away. “I told him: It’s my land. They said okay and left. Then a few minutes later, another Border Police jeep came and the officer said: Today there’s a general closure because of the holiday. I told him: Okay, just let me take my equipment. I’m on my land. He said: Don’t take anything. I left. And today I came back.”

You’re not afraid? “No, I’m not afraid. I’m on my land. It’s registered in my name. I can’t be afraid on my land.”

Walid says that a month ago the Border Police arrived and told him he wasn’t allowed to drive on the road that leads to the grove, because it’s a “security road.” He was forced to turn around and go home, despite the fact that he has a blue ID and it is not a security road. Right next to it, there is a residential building where a Palestinian family still lives.

Some of Walaja’s residents gave up on their olive orchards long ago and no longer attempt to reach their lands. When the checkpoint is moved southward, in order to block access by Palestinians to the Ein Hanya spring, the situation will be even worse: The checkpoint will be closer to the orchards, meaning that the Palestinians won’t be permitted to visit them.

“This place will be a park for people to visit,” says Walid, up on his ladder. “That’s it; that will be the end of our land. But we won’t give up our land, no matter what.” Earlier this month, one local farmer was detained for several hours and 10 olive trees were uprooted, on the grounds that he was prohibited from being here.

Meanwhile, Walid and Mohammed are collecting their meager crop in a plastic bucket printed with a Hebrew ad for a paint company. The olives from this area, near Beit Jala, are highly prized; during a good year the oil made from them can fetch a price of 100 shekels per liter.

A few hundred meters to the east are a father, a son and a horse. Khaled al-‘Araj, 51, and his son, Abed, 19, a business student. They too are taking advantage of the Jewish holiday to sneak onto their land. They have another horse, an original Arabian named Fatma, but this horse is nameless. It stands in the shade of the olive tree, resting from the long trek here. If a Border Police force shows up, it could confiscate the horse, as has happened to them before.

Father and son are both Walaja residents, but do not have blue IDs. The father works in Jerusalem with a permit, but it does not allow him to access his land.

“On Sunday,” says Khaled, “I picked olives here with my son. A Border Police officer arrived and asked: What are you doing here? He took pictures of our IDs. He asked: Whose land is this? I said: Mine. Where are the papers? At home. I have papers from my grandfather’s time; everything is in order. But he said: No, go to DCO [the Israeli District Coordination Office] and get a permit. At first I didn’t know what he meant. I have a son and a horse and they’ll make problems for me. So I left.”

He continues: “We used to plow the land. Now look at the state it’s in. We have apricot and almond trees here, too. But I’m an illegal person on my own land. That is our situation. Today is the last day of your holiday, that’s why I came here. Maybe there won’t be any Border Police.”

“Kumi Ori, ki ba orekh,” says a makeshift monument in memory of Ori Ansbacher, a young woman murdered here in February by a man from Hebron. Qasem Abed Rabo, a brother of Nidal, who received the fine from the park ranger for harvesting his olives, asks activist Tatarsky if he can find out whether the house he owns is considered to be located in Jerusalem or in the territories. He still doesn’t know.

“Welcome to Nahal Refaim National Park,” says a sign next to the current Walaja checkpoint. Its successor is already being built but work on it was stopped for unknown reasons. If and when it is completed, Ein Hanya will become a spring for Jews only and the groves on the mountainside below the village of Walaja will be cut off from their owners for good. Making this year’s harvest Walaja’s last.

►https://www.haaretz.com/israel-news/.premium-israel-is-turning-an-ancient-palestinian-village-into-a-national-p
▻https://seenthis.net/messages/807722

Sans mémoire des lieux ni lieux de mémoire. La Palestine invisible sous les forêts israéliennes

Depuis la création de l’État d’Israël en 1948, près de 240 millions d’arbres ont été plantés sur l’ensemble du territoire israélien. Dans l’objectif de « faire fleurir le désert », les acteurs de l’afforestation en Israël se situent au cœur de nombreux enjeux du territoire, non seulement environnementaux mais également identitaires et culturels. La forêt en Israël représente en effet un espace de concurrence mémorielle, incarnant à la fois l’enracinement de l’identité israélienne mais également le rappel de l’exil et de l’impossible retour du peuple palestinien. Tandis que 86 villages palestiniens détruits en 1948 sont aujourd’hui recouverts par une forêt, les circuits touristiques et historiques officiels proposés dans les forêts israéliennes ne font jamais mention de cette présence palestinienne passée. Comment l’afforestation en Israël a-t-elle contribué à l’effacement du paysage et de la mémoire palestiniens ? Quelles initiatives existent en Israël et en Palestine pour lutter contre cet effacement spatial et mémoriel ?

▻https://journals.openedition.org/bagf/6779

Septembre 2021, un feu de forêt ravage Jérusalem et dévoile les terrassements agricoles que les Palestinien·nes avaient construit...
Voici une image :

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« La nature a parlé » : un feu de forêt attise les rêves de retour des Palestiniens

Un gigantesque incendie près de Jérusalem a détruit les #pins_européens plantés par les sionistes, exposant ainsi les anciennes terrasses palestiniennes qu’ils avaient tenté de dissimuler.

Au cours de la deuxième semaine d’août, quelque 20 000 dounams (m²) de terre ont été engloutis par les flammes dans les #montagnes de Jérusalem.

C’est une véritable catastrophe naturelle. Cependant, personne n’aurait pu s’attendre à la vision qui est apparue après l’extinction de ces incendies. Ou plutôt, personne n’avait imaginé que les incendies dévoileraient ce qui allait suivre.

Une fois les flammes éteintes, le #paysage était terrible pour l’œil humain en général, et pour l’œil palestinien en particulier. Car les incendies ont révélé les #vestiges d’anciens villages et terrasses agricoles palestiniens ; des terrasses construites par leurs ancêtres, décédés il y a longtemps, pour cultiver la terre et planter des oliviers et des vignes sur les #pentes des montagnes.

À travers ces montagnes, qui constituent l’environnement naturel à l’ouest de Jérusalem, passait la route Jaffa-Jérusalem, qui reliait le port historique à la ville sainte. Cette route ondulant à travers les montagnes était utilisée par les pèlerins d’Europe et d’Afrique du Nord pour visiter les lieux saints chrétiens. Ils n’avaient d’autre choix que d’emprunter la route Jaffa-Jérusalem, à travers les vallées et les ravins, jusqu’au sommet des montagnes. Au fil des siècles, elle sera foulée par des centaines de milliers de pèlerins, de soldats, d’envahisseurs et de touristes.

Les terrasses agricoles – ou #plates-formes – que les agriculteurs palestiniens ont construites ont un avantage : leur durabilité. Selon les estimations des archéologues, elles auraient jusqu’à 600 ans. Je crois pour ma part qu’elles sont encore plus vieilles que cela.

Travailler en harmonie avec la nature

Le travail acharné du fermier palestinien est clairement visible à la surface de la terre. De nombreuses études ont prouvé que les agriculteurs palestiniens avaient toujours investi dans la terre quelle que soit sa forme ; y compris les terres montagneuses, très difficiles à cultiver.

Des photographies prises avant la Nakba (« catastrophe ») de 1948, lorsque les Palestiniens ont été expulsés par les milices juives, et même pendant la seconde moitié du XIXe siècle montrent que les oliviers et les vignes étaient les deux types de plantation les plus courants dans ces régions.

Ces végétaux maintiennent l’humidité du sol et assurent la subsistance des populations locales. Les #oliviers, en particulier, aident à prévenir l’érosion des sols. Les oliviers et les #vignes peuvent également créer une barrière naturelle contre le feu car ils constituent une végétation feuillue qui retient l’humidité et est peu gourmande en eau. Dans le sud de la France, certaines routes forestières sont bordées de vignes pour faire office de #coupe-feu.

Les agriculteurs palestiniens qui les ont plantés savaient travailler en harmonie avec la nature, la traiter avec sensibilité et respect. Cette relation s’était formée au cours des siècles.

Or qu’a fait l’occupation sioniste ? Après la Nakba et l’expulsion forcée d’une grande partie de la population – notamment le nettoyage ethnique de chaque village et ville se trouvant sur l’itinéraire de la route Jaffa-Jérusalem –, les sionistes ont commencé à planter des #pins_européens particulièrement inflammables sur de vastes portions de ces montagnes pour couvrir et effacer ce que les mains des agriculteurs palestiniens avaient créé.

Dans la région montagneuse de Jérusalem, en particulier, tout ce qui est palestinien – riche de 10 000 ans d’histoire – a été effacé au profit de tout ce qui évoque le #sionisme et la #judéité du lieu. Conformément à la mentalité coloniale européenne, le « milieu » européen a été transféré en Palestine, afin que les colons puissent se souvenir de ce qu’ils avaient laissé derrière eux.

Le processus de dissimulation visait à nier l’existence des villages palestiniens. Et le processus d’effacement de leurs particularités visait à éliminer leur existence de l’histoire.

Il convient de noter que les habitants des villages qui ont façonné la vie humaine dans les montagnes de Jérusalem, et qui ont été expulsés par l’armée israélienne, vivent désormais dans des camps et communautés proches de Jérusalem, comme les camps de réfugiés de Qalandiya et Shuafat.

On trouve de telles forêts de pins ailleurs encore, dissimulant des villages et fermes palestiniens détruits par Israël en 1948. Des institutions internationales israéliennes et sionistes ont également planté des pins européens sur les terres des villages de #Maaloul, près de Nazareth, #Sohmata, près de la frontière palestino-libanaise, #Faridiya, #Kafr_Anan et #al-Samoui sur la route Akka-Safad, entre autres. Ils sont maintenant cachés et ne peuvent être vus à l’œil nu.

Une importance considérable

Même les #noms des villages n’ont pas été épargnés. Par exemple, le village de Suba est devenu « #Tsuba », tandis que #Beit_Mahsir est devenu « #Beit_Meir », #Kasla est devenu « #Ksalon », #Saris est devenu « #Shoresh », etc.

Si les Palestiniens n’ont pas encore pu résoudre leur conflit avec l’occupant, la nature, elle, s’est désormais exprimée de la manière qu’elle jugeait opportune. Les incendies ont révélé un aspect flagrant des composantes bien planifiées et exécutées du projet sioniste.

Pour les Palestiniens, la découverte de ces terrasses confirme leur version des faits : il y avait de la vie sur cette terre, le Palestinien était le plus actif dans cette vie, et l’Israélien l’a expulsé pour prendre sa place.

Ne serait-ce que pour cette raison, ces terrasses revêtent une importance considérable. Elles affirment que la cause palestinienne n’est pas morte, que la terre attend le retour de ses enfants ; des personnes qui sauront la traiter correctement.

►https://www.middleeasteye.net/fr/opinion-fr/israel-jerusalem-incendies-villages-palestiniens-nakba-sionistes-reto

–—

An Israeli Forest to Erase the Ruins of Palestinian Agricultural Terraces

“Our forest is growing over, well, over a ruined village,” A.B. Yehoshua wrote in his novella “Facing the Forests.” The massive wildfire in the Jerusalem Hills last week exposed the underpinning of the view through the trees. The agricultural terraces were revealed in their full glory, and also revealed a historic record that Israel has always sought to obscure and erase – traces of Palestinian life on this land.

On my trips to the West Bank and the occupied territories, when I passed by the expansive areas of Palestinian farmland, I was always awed by the sight of the long chain of terraces, mustabat or mudrajat in Arabic. I thrilled at their grandeur and the precision of the work that attests to the connection between the Palestinian fellah and his land. I would wonder – Why doesn’t the same “phenomenon” exist in the hills of the Galilee?

When I grew up, I learned a little in school about Israeli history. I didn’t learn that Israel erased Palestinian agriculture in the Galilee and that the Jewish National Fund buried it once and for all, but I did learn that “The Jews brought trees with them” and planted them in the Land of Israel. How sterile and green. Greta Thunberg would be proud of you.

The Zionist movement knew that in the war for this land it was not enough to conquer the land and expel its inhabitants, you also had to build up a story and an ethos and a narrative, something that will fit with the myth of “a people without a land for a land without a people.” Therefore, after the conquest of the land and the expulsion, all trace of the people who once lived here had to be destroyed. This included trees that grew without human intervention and those that were planted by fellahin, who know this land as they do their children and as they do the terraces they built in the hills.

This is how white foreigners who never in their lives were fellahin or worked the land for a living came up with the national forestation project on the ruins of Arab villages, which David Ben-Gurion decided to flatten, such as Ma’alul and Suhmata. The forestation project including the importation of cypress and pine trees that were alien to this land and belong to colder climes, so that the new inhabitants would feel more at home and less as if they were in somebody else’s home.

The planting of combustible cypresses and pines, which are not suited to the weather in this land, is not just an act of national erasure of the Palestinian natives, but also an act of arrogance and patronage, characteristics typical of colonialist movements throughout the world. All because they did not understand the nature, in both senses of the word, of the countries they conquered.

Forgive me, but a biblical-historical connection is not sufficient. Throughout the history of colonialism, the new settlers – whether they ultimately left or stayed – were unable to impose their imported identity on the new place and to completely erase the place’s native identity. It’s a little like the forests surrounding Jerusalem: When the fire comes and burns them, one small truth is revealed, after so much effort went into concealing it.

►https://www.haaretz.com/opinion/.premium-an-israeli-forest-to-erase-the-ruins-of-palestinian-agricultural-t

et ici :
▻https://seenthis.net/messages/928766

Planter un arbre en Israël : une forêt rédemptrice et mémorielle

Tout au long du projet sioniste, le végétal a joué un rôle de médiateur entre la terre rêvée et la terre foulée, entre le texte biblique et la réalité. Le réinvestissement national s’est opéré à travers des plantes connues depuis la diaspora, réorganisées en scènes signifiantes pour la mémoire et l’histoire juive. Ce lien de filiation entre texte sacré et paysage débouche sur une pratique de plantation considérée comme un acte mystique de régénération du monde.

▻https://journals.openedition.org/diasporas/258

A mettre en lien avec cet autre film et cette autre forêt, au #Portugal :
#José_Vieira : « La #mémoire des résistances face à l’accaparement des terres a été peu transmise »
▻https://seenthis.net/messages/1029862

Unavoidable future increase in West Antarctic ice-shelf melting over the twenty-first century

Ocean-driven melting of floating ice-shelves in the Amundsen Sea is currently the main process controlling Antarctica’s contribution to sea-level rise. Using a regional ocean model, we present a comprehensive suite of future projections of ice-shelf melting in the Amundsen Sea. We find that rapid ocean warming, at approximately triple the historical rate, is likely committed over the twenty-first century, with widespread increases in ice-shelf melting, including in regions crucial for ice-sheet stability. When internal climate variability is considered, there is no significant difference between mid-range emissions scenarios and the most ambitious targets of the Paris Agreement. These results suggest that mitigation of greenhouse gases now has limited power to prevent ocean warming that could lead to the collapse of the West Antarctic Ice Sheet.

►https://www.nature.com/articles/s41558-023-01818-x

Bulgaria, lasciar morire è uccidere

Collettivo Rotte Balcaniche Alto Vicentino: la cronaca di un’omissione di soccorso sulla frontiera bulgaro-turca

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I fatti si riferiscono alla notte tra il 19 e il 20 luglio 2023. Per tutelare le persone coinvolte, diffondiamo questo report dopo alcune settimane. Dopo questo primo intervento, come Collettivo Rotte Balcaniche continuiamo ad affrontare emergenze simili, agendo in prima persona nella ricerca e soccorso delle persone bloccate nei boschi lungo la frontiera bulgaro-turca.

01.00 di notte, suona il telefono del Collettivo. “We got a pregnant woman on Route 79“, a contattarci è un residente nel campo di Harmanli, amico del marito della donna e da noi conosciuto qualche settimana prima. E’ assistito da un’interprete, anch’esso residente nel campo. Teme di essere accusato di smuggling, chiede se possiamo essere noi a chiamare un’ambulanza. La route 79 è una delle strade più pattugliate dalla border police, in quanto passaggio quasi obbligato per chi ha attraversato il confine turco e si muove verso Sofia. Con l’aiuto dell’interprete chiamiamo la donna: è all’ottavo mese di gravidanza e, con le due figlie piccole, sono sole nella jungle. Stremate, sono state lasciate vicino alla strada dal gruppo con cui stavano camminando, in attesa di soccorsi. Ci dà la sua localizzazione: 42.12.31.6N 27.00.20.9E. Le spieghiamo che il numero dell’ambulanza è lo stesso della polizia: c’è il rischio che venga respinta illegalmente in Turchia. Lei lo sa e ci chiede di farlo ugualmente.

Ore 02.00, prima chiamata al 112. La registriamo, come tutte le successive. Non ci viene posta nessuna domanda sulle condizioni della donna o delle bambine, ma siamo tenuti 11 minuti al telefono per spiegare come siamo venuti in contatto con la donna, come ha attraversato il confine e da dove viene, chi siamo, cosa facciamo in Bulgaria. Sospettano un caso di trafficking e dobbiamo comunicare loro il numero dell’”intermediario” tra noi e lei. Ci sentiamo sotto interrogatorio. “In a couple of minutes our units are gonna be there to search the woman“, sono le 02.06. Ci rendiamo conto di non aver parlato con dei soccorritori, ma con dei poliziotti.

Ore 03.21, è passata un’ora e tutto tace: richiamiamo il 112. Chiediamo se hanno chiamato la donna, ci rispondono: “we tried contacting but we can’t reach the phone number“. La donna ci dice che in realtà non l’hanno mai chiamata. Comunichiamo di nuovo la sua localizzazione: 42.12.37.6N 27.00.21.5E. Aggiungiamo che è molto vicino alla strada, ci rispondono: “not exactly, it’s more like inside of the woods“, “it’s exactly like near the border, and it’s inside of a wood region, it’s a forest, not a street“. Per fugare ogni dubbio, chiediamo: “do you confirm that the coordinates are near to route 79?“. Ci tengono in attesa, rispondono: “they are near a main road. Can’t exactly specify if it’s 79“. Diciamo che la donna è svenuta. “Can she dial us? Can she call so we can get a bit more information?“. Non capiamo di che ulteriori informazioni abbiano bisogno, siamo increduli: “She’s not conscious so I don’t think she’ll be able to make the call“. Suggeriscono allora che l’interprete si metta in contatto diretto con loro. Sospettiamo che vogliano tagliarci fuori. Sono passati 18 minuti, la chiamata è stata una farsa. Se prima temevamo le conseguenze dell’arrivo della polizia, ora abbiamo paura che non arrivi nessuno. Decidiamo di metterci in strada, ci aspetta 1h e 40 di viaggio.

Ore 04.42, terza chiamata. Ci chiedono di nuovo tutte le informazioni, ancora una volta comunichiamo le coordinate gps. Diciamo che stiamo andando in loco ed incalziamo: “Are there any news on the research?“. “I can’t tell this“. Attraverso l’interprete rimaniamo in costante contatto con la donna. Conferma che non è arrivata alcuna searching unit. La farsa sta diventando una tragedia.

Ore 06.18, quarta chiamata. Siamo sul posto e la strada è deserta. Vogliamo essere irreprensibili ed informarli che siamo arrivati. Ripetiamo per l’ennesima volta che chiamiamo per una donna incinta in gravi condizioni. Il dialogo è allucinante, ricominciano con le domande: “which month?“, “which baby is this? First? Second?“, “how old does she look like?“, “how do you know she’s there? she called you or what?“. Gli comunichiamo che stiamo per iniziare a cercarla, ci rispondono: “we are looking for her also“. Interveniamo: “Well, where are you because there is no one here, we are on the spot and there is no one“. Si giustificano: “you have new information because obviously she is not at the one coordinates you gave“, “the police went three times to the coordinates and they didn’t find the woman, the coordinates are wrong“. Ancora una volta, capiamo che stanno mentendo.

Faremo una quinta chiamata alle 06.43, quando l’avremo già trovata. Ci richiederanno le coordinate e ci diranno di aspettarli lungo la strada.

La nostra ricerca dura pochi minuti. La donna ci invia di nuovo la posizione: 42.12.36.3N 27.00.43.3E. Risulta essere a 500 metri dalle coordinate precedenti, ma ancor più vicina alla strada. Gridiamo “hello” e ci facciamo guidare dalle voci: la troviamo letteralmente a due metri dalla strada, su un leggero pendio, accasciata sotto un albero e le bambine al suo fianco. Vengono dalla Siria, le bambine hanno 4 e 7 anni. Lei è troppo debole per alzarsi. Abbiamo per loro sono dell’acqua e del pane. C’è lì anche un ragazzo, probabilmente minorenne, che le ha trovate ed è rimasto ad aiutarle. Lo avvertiamo che arriverà la polizia. Non vuole essere respinto in Turchia, riparte solo e senza zaino. Noi ci guardiamo attorno: la “foresta” si rivela essere una piccola striscia alberata di qualche metro, che separa la strada dai campi agricoli.

Dopo poco passa una ronda della border police, si fermano e ci avvicinano con la mano sulla pistola. Non erano stati avvertiti: ci aggrediscono con mille domande senza interessarsi alla donna ed alle bambine. Ci prendono i telefoni, ci cancellano le foto fatte all’arrivo delle volanti. Decidiamo di chiamare un’avvocata locale nostra conoscente: lei ci risponde che nei boschi è normale che i soccorsi tardino e ci suggerisce di andarcene per lasciar lavorare la polizia. Nel frattempo arrivano anche la gendarmerie e la local police.

Manca solo l’unica cosa necessaria e richiesta: l’ambulanza, che non arriverà mai.

Ore 07.45, la polizia ci scorta nel paese più vicino – Sredets – dove ci ha assicurato esserci un ospedale. Cercano di dividere la donna e le bambine in auto diverse. Chiediamo di portarle noi tutte assieme in macchina. A Sredets, tuttavia, siamo condotti nella centrale della border police. Troviamo decine di guardie di frontiera vestite mimetiche, armate di mitraglie, che escono a turno su mezzi militari, due agenti olandesi di Frontex, un poliziotto bulgaro con la maglia del fascio littorio dei raduni di Predappio. Siamo relegati nel fondo di un corridoio, in piedi, circondati da cinque poliziotti. Il più giovane urla e ci dice che saremo trattenuti “perché stai facendo passare migranti clandestini“. Chiediamo acqua ed un bagno per la donna e le bambine, inizialmente ce li negano. Rimaniamo in attesa, ora ci dicono che non possono andare in ospedale in quanto senza documenti, sono in stato di arresto.

Ore 09.00, arriva finalmente un medico: parla solamente in bulgaro, visita la donna in corridoio senza alcuna privacy, chiedendole di scoprire la pancia davanti ai 5 poliziotti. Chiamiamo ancora una volta l’avvocata, vogliamo chiedere che la donna sia portata in un ambulatorio e che abbia un interprete. Rimaniamo inascoltati. Dopo a malapena 5 minuti il medico conclude la sua visita, consigliando solamente di bere molta acqua.

Ore 09.35, ci riportano i nostri documenti e ci invitano ad andarcene. E’ l’ultima volta che vediamo la donna e le bambine. Il telefono le viene sequestrato. Non viene loro permesso di fare la richiesta di asilo e vengono portate nel pre-removal detention centre di Lyubimets. Prima di condurci all’uscita, si presenta un tale ispettore Palov che ci chiede di firmare tre carte. Avrebbero giustificato le ore passate in centrale come conversazione avuta con l’ispettore, previa convocazione ufficiale. Rifiutiamo.

Sulla via del ritorno ripercorriamo la Route 79, è estremamente pattugliata dalla polizia. Pensiamo alle tante persone che ogni notte muoiono senza nemmeno poter chiedere aiuto, oltre alle poche che lo chiedono invano. Lungo le frontiere di terra come di mare, l’omissione di soccorso è una precisa strategia delle autorità.

L’indomani incontriamo l’amico del marito della donna. Sa che non potrà più fare qualcosa di simile: sarebbe accusato di smuggling e perderebbe ogni possibilità di ricostruirsi una vita in Europa. Invece noi, attivisti indipendenti, possiamo e dobbiamo continuare: abbiamo molto meno da perdere. Ci è chiara l’urgenza di agire in prima persona e disobbedire a chi uccide lasciando morire.

Dopo 20 giorni dall’accaduto riusciamo ad incontrare la donna con le bambine, che sono state finalmente trasferite al campo aperto di Harmanli. Sono state trattenute quindi nel centro di detenzione di Lyubimets per ben 19 giorni. La donna ci riferisce che, durante la loro permanenza, non è mai stata portata in ospedale per eseguire accertamenti, necessari soprattutto per quanto riguarda la gravidanza; è stata solamente visitata dal medico del centro, una visita molto superficiale e frettolosa, molto simile a quella ricevuta alla stazione di polizia di Sredets. Ci dà inoltre il suo consenso alla pubblicazione di questo report.

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▻https://www.meltingpot.org/2023/08/bulgaria-lasciar-morire-e-uccidere

#laisser_mourir

Bulgaria, per tutti i morti di frontiera

Collettivo Rotte Balcaniche Alto Vicentino: un racconto di come i confini d’Europa uccidono nel silenzio e nell’indifferenza

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Da fine giugno il Collettivo Rotte Balcaniche Alto Vicentino è ripartito per un nuovo progetto di solidarietà attiva e monitoraggio verso la frontiera più esterna dell’Unione Europea, al confine tra Bulgaria e Turchia.
Pubblichiamo il secondo report delle “operazioni di ricerca e soccorso” che il Collettivo sta portando avanti, in cui si racconta del ritrovamento del corpo senza vita di H., un uomo siriano che aveva deciso di sfidare la fortezza Europa. Come lui moltə altrə tentano il viaggio ogni giorno, e muoiono nelle foreste senza che nessuno lo sappia. Al Collettivo è sembrato importante diffondere questa storia perchè parla anche di tutte le altre storie che non potranno essere raccontate, affinché non rimangano seppellite nel silenzio dei confini.

Ore 12, circa, al numero del collettivo viene segnalata la presenza del corpo di un ragazzo siriano di trent’anni, H., morto durante un tentativo di game in prossimità della route 79. Abbiamo il contatto di un fratello, che comunica con noi attraverso un cugino che fa da interprete. Chiedono aiuto nel gestire il recupero, il riconoscimento e il rimpatrio del corpo; ci mandano le coordinate e capiamo che il corpo si trova in mezzo ad un bosco ma vicino ad un sentiero: probabilmente i suoi compagni di viaggio lo hanno lasciato lì così che fosse facilmente raggiungibile. Nelle ore successive capiamo insieme come muoverci.

Ore 15, un’associazione del territorio con cui collaboriamo chiama una prima volta il 112, il numero unico per le emergenze. Ci dice che il caso è stato preso in carico e che le autorità hanno iniziato le ricerche. Alla luce di altri episodi simili, decidiamo di non fidarci e iniziamo a pensare che potrebbe essere necessario metterci in viaggio.

Ore 16.46, chiamiamo anche noi il 112, per mettere pressione ed assicurarci che effettivamente ci sia una squadra di ricerca in loco: decidiamo di dire all’operatore che c’è una persona in condizioni critiche persa nei boschi e diamo le coordinate precise. Come risposta ci chiede il nome e, prima ancora di informazioni sul suo stato di salute, la sua nazionalità. E’ zona di frontiera: probabilmente, la risposta a questa domanda è fondamentale per capire che priorità dare alla chiamata e chi allertare. Quando diciamo che è siriano, arriva in automatico la domanda: “How did he cross the border? Legally or illegally?“. Diciamo che non lo sappiamo, ribadiamo che H. ha bisogno di soccorso immediato, potrebbe essere morto. L’operatore accetta la nostra segnalazione e ci dice che polizia e assistenza medica sono state allertate. Chiediamo di poter avere aggiornamenti, ma non possono richiamarci. Richiameremo noi.

Ore 17.54, richiamiamo. L’operatrice ci chiede se il gruppo di emergenza è arrivato in loco, probabilmente pensando che noi siamo insieme ad H. La informiamo che in realtà siamo a un’ora e mezzo di distanza, ma che ci possiamo muovere se necessario. Ci dice che la border police “was there” e che “everything will be okay if you called us“, ma non ha informazioni sulle sorti di H. Le chiediamo, sempre memori delle false informazioni degli altri casi, come può essere sicura che una pattuglia si sia recata in loco; solo a questo punto chiama la border police. “It was my mistake“, ci dice riprendendo la chiamata: gli agenti non lo hanno trovato, “but they are looking for him“. Alle nostre orecchie suona come una conferma del fatto che nessuna pattuglia sia uscita a cercarlo. L’operatrice chiude la chiamata con un: “If you can, go to this place, [to] this GPS coordinates, because they couldn’t find this person yet. If you have any information call us again“. Forti di questo via libera e incazzatə di dover supplire alle mancanze della polizia ci mettiamo in viaggio.

Ore 18.30, partiamo, chiamando il 112 a intervalli regolari lungo la strada: emerge grande indifferenza, che diventa a tratti strafottenza rispetto alla nostra insistenza: “So what do you want now? We don’t give information, we have the signal, police is informed“. Diciamo che siamo per strada: “Okay“.

Ore 20.24, parcheggiamo la macchina lungo una strada sterrata in mezzo al bosco. Iniziamo a camminare verso le coordinate mentre il sole dietro di noi inizia a tramontare. Richiamiamo il 112, informando del fatto che non vediamo pattuglie della polizia in giro, nonostante tutte le fantomatiche ricerche già partite. Ci viene risposto che la polizia è stata alle coordinate che noi abbiamo dato e non ha trovato nessuno; gli avvenimenti delle ore successive dimostreranno che questa informazione è falsa.

“I talked with Border Police, today they have been in this place searching for this guy, they haven’t find anybody, so“

“So? […] What are they going to do?“

“What do you want from us [seccato]? They haven’t found anyone […]“

“They can keep searching.”

“[aggressivo] They haven’t found anybody on this place. What do you want from us? […] On this location there is no one. […] You give the location and there is no one on this location“.

Ore 21.30, arriviamo alle coordinate attraverso un bosco segnato da zaini e bottiglie vuote che suggeriscono il passaggio di persone in game. Il corpo di H. è lì, non un metro più avanti, non uno più indietro. I suoi compagni di viaggio, nonostante la situazione di bisogno che la rotta impone, hanno avuto l’accortezza di lasciargli a fianco il suo zaino, il suo telefono e qualche farmaco. E’ evidente come nessuna pattuglia della polizia sia stata sul posto, probabilmente nessuna è neanche mai uscita dalla centrale. Ci siamo mosse insieme a una catena di bugie. Richiamiamo il 112 e l’operatrice allerta la border police. Questa volta, visto il tempo in cui rimaniamo in chiamata in attesa, parrebbe veramente.

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Ore 21.52, nessuno in vista. Richiamiamo insistendo per sapere dove sia l’unità di emergenza, dato che temiamo ancora una volta l’assoluto disinteresse di chi di dovere. Ci viene risposto: “Police crew is on another case, when they finish the case they will come to you. […] There is too many case for police, they have only few car“. Vista la quantità di posti di blocco e di automobili della polizia che abbiamo incrociato lungo la route 79 e i racconti dei suoi interventi continui, capillari e violenti in “protezione” dei confini orientali dell’UE, non ci pare proprio che la polizia non possegga mezzi. Evidentemente, di nuovo, è una questione di priorità dei casi e dei fini di questi: ci si muove per controllare e respingere, non per soccorrere. Insistiamo, ci chiedono informazioni su di noi e sulla macchina:

“How many people are you?“

“Three people“

“Only women?”

“Yes…”

“Have patience and stay there, they will come“.

Abbiamo la forte percezione che il fatto di essere solo ragazze velocizzerà l’intervento e che di certo nessuno si muoverà per H.: il pull factor per l’intervento della polizia siamo diventate noi, le fanciulle italiane in mezzo al bosco da salvare. Esplicitiamo tra di noi la necessità di mettere in chiaro, all’eventuale arrivo della polizia, che la priorità per noi è il recupero del corpo di H. Sentiamo anche lə compagnə che sono rimastə a casa: davanti all’ennesimo aggiornamento di stallo, in tre decidono di partire da Harmanli e di raggiungerci alle coordinate; per loro si prospetta un’ora e mezzo in furgone: lungo la strada, verranno fermati tre volte a posti di blocco, essendo i furgoni uno dei mezzi preferiti dagli smuggler per muovere le persone migranti verso Sofia.

Ore 22, continuiamo con le chiamate di pressione al 112. E’ una donna a rispondere: la sua voce suona a tratti preoccupata. Anche nella violenza della situazione, registriamo come la socializzazione di genere sia determinante rispetto alla postura di cura. Si connette con la border police: “Police is coming to you in 5…2 minutes“, ci dice in un tentativo di rassicurarci. Purtroppo, sappiamo bene che le pratiche della polizia sono lontane da quelle di cura e non ci illudiamo: l’attesa continuerà. Come previsto, un’ora dopo non è ancora arrivato nessuno. All’ennesima chiamata, il centralinista ci chiede informazioni sulla morfologia del territorio intorno a noi. Questa richiesta conferma quello che ormai già sapevamo: la polizia, lì, non è mai arrivata.

Ore 23.45, delle luci illuminano il campo in cui siamo sedute ormai da ore vicine al corpo di H. E’ una macchina della polizia di frontiera, con sopra una pattuglia mista di normal police e border police. Nessuna traccia di ambulanza, personale medico o polizia scientifica. Ci chiedono di mostrargli il corpo. Lo illuminano distrattamente, fanno qualche chiamata alla centrale e tornano a noi: ci chiedono come siamo venute a sapere del caso e perchè siamo lì. Gli ribadiamo che è stata un’operatrice del 112 a suggerici ciò: la cosa ci permette di giustificare la nostra presenza in zona di confine, a fianco ad un corpo senza vita ed evitare le accuse di smuggling.

Ore 23.57, ci propongono di riaccompagnarci alla nostra macchina, neanche 10 minuti dopo essere arrivati. Noi chiediamo cosa ne sarà del corpo di H. e un agente ci risponde che arriverà un’unità di emergenza apposita. Esplicitiamo la nostra volontà di aspettarne l’arrivo, vogliamo tentare di ottenere il maggior numero di informazioni da comunicare alla famiglia e siamo preoccupate che, se noi lasciamo il campo, anche la pattuglia abbandonerà il corpo. Straniti, e forse impreparati alla nostra presenza e insistenza, provano a convincerci ad andare, illustrando una serie farsesca di pericoli che vanno dal fatto che sia zona di frontiera interdetta alla presenza di pericolosi migranti e calabroni giganti. Di base, recepiamo che non hanno una motivazioni valida per impedirci di rimanere.

Quando il gruppo di Harmanli arriva vicino a noi, la polizia li sente arrivare prima di vederli e pensa che siano un gruppo di migranti; a questo stimolo, risponde con la prontezza che non ha mai dimostrato rispetto alle nostre sollecitazioni. Scatta verso di loro con la mano a pistola e manganello e le torce puntate verso il bosco. Li trova, ma il loro colore della pelle è nello spettro della legittimità. Va tutto bene, possono arrivare da noi. Della pattuglia di sei poliziotti, tre vanno via in macchina, tre si fermano effettivamente per la notte; ci chiediamo se sarebbe andata allo stesso modo se noi con i nostri occhi bianchi ed europei non fossimo stati presenti. Lo stallo continua, sostanzialmente, fino a mattina: la situazione è surreale, con noi sdraiati a pochi metri dalla polizia e dal corpo di H. L’immagine che ne esce parla di negligenza delle istituzioni, della gerarchia di vite che il confine crea e dell’abbandono sistematico dei corpi che vi si muovono intorno, se non per un loro possibile respingimento.

Ore 8 di mattina, l’indifferenza continua anche quando arriva la scientifica, che si muove sbrigativa e sommaria intorno al corpo di H., vestendo jeans e scattando qualche fotografia simbolica. Il tutto non dura più di 30 minuti, alla fine dei quali il corpo parte nella macchina della border police, senza comunicazione alcuna sulla sua direzione e sulle sue sorti. Dopo la solita strategia di insistenza, riusciamo ad apprendere che verrà portato all’obitorio di Burgas, ma non hanno nulla da dirci su quello che avverrà dopo: l’ipotesi di un rimpatrio della salma o di un possibile funerale pare non sfiorare nemmeno i loro pensieri. Scopriremo solo in seguito, durante una c​hiamata con la famiglia, che H., nella migliore delle ipotesi, verrà seppellito in Bulgaria, solo grazie alla presenza sul territorio bulgaro di un parente di sangue, da poco deportato dalla Germania secondo le direttive di Dublino, che ha potuto riconoscere ufficialmente il corpo. Si rende palese, ancora una volta, l’indifferenza delle autorità nei confronti di H., un corpo ritenuto illegittimo che non merita nemmeno una sepoltura. La morte è normalizzata in questi spazi di confine e l’indifferenza sistemica diventa un’arma, al pari della violenza sui corpi e dei respingimenti, per definire chi ha diritto a una vita degna, o semplicemente a una vita.

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▻https://www.meltingpot.org/2023/08/bulgaria-per-tutti-i-morti-di-frontiera

Biden, le trumpeur

‘Stabbed in the back’ : Biden’s border wall U-turn leaves Indigenous and climate groups reeling

Rio Grande communities feel like the ‘sacrificial lamb’ in a political war as climate activists and environmentalists call foul

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The Biden administration’s decision to waive environmental, public health and cultural protections to speed new border wall construction has enraged environmentalists, Indigenous leaders and community groups in the Rio Grande valley.

“It was disheartening and unexpected,” said Laiken Jordahl, a borderlands campaigner with the Center for Biological Diversity (CBD), amid concerns of the impact on essential corridors for wild cats and endangered plants in the area. “This is a new low, a horrific step backwards for the borderlands.”

This is the first time a Democratic administration has issued such waivers for border wall construction, and for Joe Biden, it’s a marked departure from campaign promises and his efforts to be seen as a climate champion.

“I see the Biden administration playing a strategic game for elections,” said Michelle Serrano, co-director of Voces Unidas RGV, an immigrants rights and community advocacy group based in the Rio Grande valley. The many rural, immigrant and Indigenous communities that live in the region have become “the sacrificial lamb” for politicians looking to score points, she added.

As the climate crisis fuels ecological decline, extreme weather and mass migration, the administration’s move is especially upsetting, she added. “Building a border wall is counterproductive,” she said.

“This is an inhumane response to immigration,” said Michele Weindling, the electoral director of the Sunrise Movement, a youth-led climate justice group. “The right thing to do would be to treat immigrants with compassion and address the root cause of what is forcing people to have to leave their countries, which is the climate crisis.”

Following the administration’s decision to approve the Willow drilling project in Alaska and renege on a promise to end new drilling, the border wall construction will likely further alienate young voters, she said: “Biden has already caused distrust among young voters. This is another and horrendous reversal of promises he made on the campaign trail, which is a dangerous move to make ahead of 2024.”

Among the 26 environmental and cultural protections the administration is waiving are the National Environmental Policy Act, the Endangered Species Act, the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act and the American Indian Religious Freedom Act.

The administration’s proposed 20 new miles of a “border barrier system” in Starr county, Texas, cuts near the lower Rio Grande Valley national wildlife refuge. Construction would bisect fields where the Carrizo/Comecrudo Tribe and other tribes source peyote for sacramental use. It would also cut through or near old village sites and trails.

“By developing this, they are furthering a genocide,” said Juan Mancias, the chair of the Carrizo/Comecrudo Tribe, who has been battling border wall construction though tribal cultural sites and graveyards through multiple US administrations. Colonizers “killed our people in the first place, and we had to bury – then you dig them up to build. It’s ongoing genocide”, he said.

The new sections of border wall would cut through “some of the most rural, peaceful sections of the Rio Grande”, said Jordahl, who recently canoed down the stretch of river where the administration plans its construction. “It was one of the most serene experiences I have ever had on the border. There were orioles flapping their wings in the sky, kingfishers, great blue herons.”

CBD believes the construction will set back the recovery of endangered ocelots, and cut off wildlife corridors essential to the spotted wildcats’ long-term survival. Two endangered plants, the Zapata bladderpod and prostrate milkweed, would also be threatened by wall construction, according to the CBD.

The waivers were announced just a month after the Government Accountability Office, a nonpartisan watchdog agency, released a dire report finding that border wall construction during the Trump administration had destroyed towering saguaro cactuses in Arizona, threatened ocelots in Texas and dynamited Indigenous cultural sites and burial grounds. The report urged US Customs and Border Protection and the interior department to develop a plan to ease the damage.

In fueling Donald Trump’s zeal to build a “big, beautiful wall” at the US-Mexico border, his administration issued waivers that suspended 84 federal laws including protections pertaining to clean air and water, endangered species, public lands and the rights of Native Americans. The Biden administration rescinded one of the prior administration’s waivers in June.

In July, the federal government agreed in a settlement to pay $1.2bn to repair environmental damages and protect wildlife affected by sections of border wall construction. Several states as well as the Sierra Club and Southern Border Communities Coalition had challenged Trump’s use of military construction and of treasury department forfeiture funds to build parts of the wall.

Now, the president who once vowed that “not another foot of wall would be constructed” under his watch has had his administration issue further waivers to speed wall construction. He has argued that his administration is compelled to construct border barriers, because money to fund its construction was already allocated by Congress. “I tried to get them to reappropriate, to redirect that money. They didn’t,” Biden told reporters. Asked if he thought the border wall worked, he responded, “No.”

Environmental advocates have disputed the president’s claim that there was no choice but to move ahead with border wall construction. The administration was not obligated to waive environmental and public health protections to speed the work, they argue.

“It’s absolutely mystifying as to why they thought it was a good idea to issue these waivers,” Jordhal said. “They could have moved forward with the Endangered Species Act still intact, so endangered wildlife and these areas would have had protections.” Keeping environmental, health and cultural protections in place would also have allowed local communities to provide input on the proposed construction and its impact, he added.

“I’m angry,” said Nayda Alvarez, who spent years fighting the Trump administration’s efforts to seize land that her family has held for at least five generations to build the border wall. “Biden didn’t keep his promises – what happened to his word?”

Even after the lawsuit to take her property along the Rio Grande was dropped, Alvarez said, she remained uncertain and uneasy – and continued to voice her concerns about the ecological damage caused by border barriers. “We thought maybe we’d be OK with a Democrat as president, and now Biden did this. We’re being stabbed in the back.”

▻https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2023/oct/06/biden-border-wall-indigenous-climate-rio-grande
#peuples_autochtones #nature

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A mettre en lien aussi avec les conséquences sur la #faune et la #nature de la construction de #barrières_frontalières :
►https://seenthis.net/messages/515608
#wildlife