• This Unappealing Beer Offers a Taste of Climate Change
    https://www.treehugger.com/unappealing-beer-offers-taste-climate-change-5181740

    Brewed from drought-resistant grains, dandelion weeds, and smoke-tainted water, it’s a shocking reminder of what we stand to lose if we fail to take action to slow planetary warming.

    #climat #bière

  • Tête-à-queue en Suède à propos des changements de sexe
    par TRADFEM
    L’Hôpital Karolinska de Suède met fin à l’utilisation des bloqueurs de puberté pour les moins de 16 ans : Nouvelle déclaration de politique générale de l’hôpital Karolinska - @SEGMtweets

    Le « protocole néerlandais » pour le traitement des mineurs souffrant de dysphorie de genre vient d’être abandonné en raison de ses risques de préjudice médical et de ses avantages incertains.

    L’hôpital Karolinska, en Suède, a récemment publié une nouvelle déclaration de principes concernant le traitement des mineur.e.s souffrant de dysphorie de genre à sa division pédiatrique des services liés au genre. Cette politique, qui est entrée en vigueur en avril 2021, a mis fin à la pratique consistant à prescrire des agents bloqueurs de puberté et des hormones transsexuelles aux mineur.e.s de moins de 16 ans. Les interventions hormonales pour les jeunes âgé.e.s de 16 à 18 ans sont toujours autorisées, mais uniquement dans le cadre de recherches approuvées par le comité d’examen éthique suédois, après un consentement éclairé approfondi ou sont divulgués les risques et incertitudes considérables des interventions hormonales, et en tenant compte du niveau de maturité du ou de la mineure et de sa capacité à donner un consentement réellement éclairé.

    Il s’agit d’un tournant décisif. La Suède est le premier pays dont un hôpital renommé a explicitement répudié le protocole néerlandais, qui autorise l’administration d’agents bloqueurs de puberté à l’âge de 12 ans (et de plus en plus souvent à partir de 8-9 ans, au stade précoce de la puberté connu sous le nom de Tanner 2), et d’hormones transsexuelles à l’âge de 16 ans. C’est également le premier pays à se démarquer officiellement des directives du World Professional Association for Transgender Health (WPATH). Ce lobby s’est longtemps positionné comme l’autorité mondiale en matière de santé des transgenres.(...)
    https://tradfem.wordpress.com/2021/05/05/tete-a-queue-en-suede-a-propos-des-changements-de-sexde

    #transgenrisme #droitsdesenfants #BigPharma #Suède #protocolenéerlandais

  • Jennifer Bates : « Nous sommes les milliardaires d’Amazon » Jonathan Lefèvre

    « Dès le troisième jour, je souffrais, j’ai regardé autour de moi et j’ai réalisé que je n’étais pas la seule à souffrir. » Arrivée en mai dernier à l’entrepôt de Bessemer (Alabama), Jennifer Bates décide quelques semaines plus tard de tenter l’inimaginable : créer un syndicat chez Amazon. Portrait.


    Jennifer Bates, une ouvrière qui a fait bouger le président des États-Unis. (Photo AFP)

    En commençant à travailler chez Amazon, l’ancienne ouvrière de l’automobile pensait avoir trouvé un « bon job » : 15 dollars de l’heure, une assurance-maladie. Mais elle déchante vite. « Ce n’est pas seulement physique. C’est une tension mentale. » Jennifer Bates parle du contrôle du temps – « time off task » – en vigueur chez Amazon : chaque seconde où le travailleur ne fait pas la tâche qui lui est assignée est comptée. Si ce quota est dépassé, les travailleurs sont pénalisés (jusqu’au licenciement). Problème : c’est totalement arbitraire car les travailleurs ne connaissent pas leur quota. Pour Jennifer et ses collègues, aller aux toilettes devient donc un dilemme : si on n’arrive pas à se retenir jusqu’à sa pause, aller aux WC pendant son shift compte dans son « time off task ».

    Un jour a eu lieu un contrôle aléatoire pour vérifier si les travailleurs ne volent pas de marchandises. « J’ai dû enlever ma veste, passer au scanner, enlever mes chaussures. Alors j’ai demandé si ce temps passé au contrôle, j’allais le récupérer pour mon temps de pause. L’agent de sécurité a dit non. J’étais furieuse. » C’est le déclic : après une discussion avec des collègues, des travailleuses et travailleurs d’Amazon font appel au syndicat. Dans le plus grand secret. Car Amazon déteste les organisations de travailleurs.

    L’ouvrière qui fait bouger le président des États-Unis
    Elle et ses collègues forcent la tenue d’un referendum sur le droit à créer son syndicat dans l’entrepôt de Bessemer. Ils reçoivent le soutien d’élus de gauche (comme Bernie Sanders qui invitera Jennifer à un débat au Sénat), de stars d’Hollywood, de joueurs de football américain et même de... Joe Biden. Le président, poussé dans le dos par l’énorme mouvement de soutien, est obligé de se prononcer en faveur de la syndicalisation. Pour le journaliste du New York Times Michael Corkery, c’est historique : « Les historiens du travail n’avaient jamais vu un président en exercice faire une déclaration aussi forte en faveur de la syndicalisation. »

    Le vote qui pouvait permettre, pour la première fois de l’histoire d’Amazon aux USA, à un syndicat de s’implanter sur un de ses sites a été remporté par la direction. Grâce à des consultants « anti-syndicat » payés 3 000 dollars la journée, de harcèlement, et de pratiques sans doute illégales.

    Amazon gagne un vote, mais perd l’opinion
    La lutte de Jennifer Bates et ses collègues a mis en lumière les conditions de travail chez Amazon et surtout la violence que la direction utilise pour empêcher un vote favorable au syndicat. Comme une onde de choc, plus de 1 000 salariés d’Amazon ont contacté le syndicat pour mener le combat sur leur lieu de travail. Soit exactement ce que la direction voulait éviter.

    Comme l’explique celle qui a commencé à travailler à 16 ans dans un fast-food : « Nous ne sommes pas des robots conçus uniquement pour travailler. Nous travaillons pour vivre. Nous méritons de vivre, de rire, d’aimer et d’avoir une vie pleine et saine. Nous, les travailleurs, gagnons des milliards pour Amazon. Je dis souvent : “Nous sommes les milliardaires, mais nous n’avons pas le droit de dépenser un seul centime de cette fortune.” »

    Avant de passer du temps avec ses sept petits-enfants, Jennifer Bates entend bien poursuivre la lutte. Finalement, tout est une question de temps...

    Source : https://www.solidaire.org/articles/jennifer-bates-nous-sommes-les-milliardaires-d-amazon
     #ouvrière #amazon #wc #toilettes #algorithme #surveillance #travail #domination #santé #bigdata #gafam #bénéfices #gigeconomy #femmes #sexisme #féminisme #travail #violence #inégalités #exploitation #travail #capitalisme #surveillance #économie #esclavage #exploitation #Syndicat #vie

  • #Birmanie : comment #Total finance les généraux à travers des comptes #offshore
    https://www.lemonde.fr/international/article/2021/05/04/birmanie-comment-total-finance-les-generaux-a-travers-des-comptes-offshore_6

    [...] le PDG de Total, Patrick Pouyanné [...] affirme simplement s’acquitter de ses obligations auprès de l’Etat birman.

    Des documents internes, auxquels Le Monde a eu accès, racontent une autre version de l’histoire. Ils mettent en lumière le montage financier autour du gazoduc sous-marin de 346 km qui relie le gisement de Yadana à la Thaïlande. Ce tuyau ne se contente pas de transporter du gaz : il est le cœur d’un système où des centaines de millions de dollars provenant des ventes du gaz sont détournées des caisses de l’Etat birman vers la Myanmar Oil and Gas Enterprise (MOGE), une entreprise publique à la gestion opaque, contrôlée par les #militaires.

    #paywall

  • Geoinspirations Podcast Series: Dr. Paulette Hasier - Curating Generations of Cartography

    https://www.directionsmag.com/article/10202

    Today, Dr. Joseph Kerski interviews Dr. Paulette Hasier, Geography and Map Division Chief at the Library of Congress. She discusses the varied journey she made through academia and government before arriving at the world’s largest library. She describes their collection of story maps and data while inspiring us to explore the deep cartographic treasures in the Library of Congress. She offers words of advice as you follow your own career pathway.

    #cartographie #mémoire #library_of_congress #bibliothèque #cartothèque #conservation_des_cartes

  • Bike Share Oversupply in China : Huge Piles of Abandoned and Broken Bicycles - The Atlantic

    https://www.theatlantic.com/photo/2018/03/bike-share-oversupply-in-china-huge-piles-of-abandoned-and-broken-bicycles/556268

    Article de mars 2018

    Last year, bike sharing took off in China, with dozens of bike-share companies quickly flooding city streets with millions of brightly colored rental bicycles. However, the rapid growth vastly outpaced immediate demand and overwhelmed Chinese cities, where infrastructure and regulations were not prepared to handle a sudden flood of millions of shared bicycles. Riders would park bikes anywhere, or just abandon them, resulting in bicycles piling up and blocking already-crowded streets and pathways.

    En partant d’un thread Twitter sur la place du vélo (https://twitter.com/StrategicCities/status/1388609162829910017) qui montrait une photo de la gare d’Eindhoven , une personne a remis ce lien des photos de piles de vélos partagés abîmés en Chine.

    Un autre article en parlait là https://seenthis.net/messages/650852.

    J’avais oublié ces photos assez impressionnantes, dans la démesure de l’industrie chinoise.

    #vélo #vélo_partage #chine #photographie #bicycle_graveyard

  • Friends of the Traffickers Italy’s Anti-Mafia Directorate and the “Dirty Campaign” to Criminalize Migration

    Afana Dieudonne often says that he is not a superhero. That’s Dieudonne’s way of saying he’s done things he’s not proud of — just like anyone in his situation would, he says, in order to survive. From his home in Cameroon to Tunisia by air, then by car and foot into the desert, across the border into Libya, and onto a rubber boat in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, Dieudonne has done a lot of surviving.

    In Libya, Dieudonne remembers when the smugglers managing the safe house would ask him for favors. Dieudonne spoke a little English and didn’t want trouble. He said the smugglers were often high and always armed. Sometimes, when asked, Dieudonne would distribute food and water among the other migrants. Other times, he would inform on those who didn’t follow orders. He remembers the traffickers forcing him to inflict violence on his peers. It was either them or him, he reasoned.

    On September 30, 2014, the smugglers pushed Dieudonne and 91 others out to sea aboard a rubber boat. Buzzing through the pitch-black night, the group watched lights on the Libyan coast fade into darkness. After a day at sea, the overcrowded dinghy began taking on water. Its passengers were rescued by an NGO vessel and transferred to an Italian coast guard ship, where officers picked Dieudonne out of a crowd and led him into a room for questioning.

    At first, Dieudonne remembers the questioning to be quick, almost routine. His name, his age, his nationality. And then the questions turned: The officers said they wanted to know how the trafficking worked in Libya so they could arrest the people involved. They wanted to know who had driven the rubber boat and who had held the navigation compass.

    “So I explained everything to them, and I also showed who the ‘captain’ was — captain in quotes, because there is no captain,” said Dieudonne. The real traffickers stay in Libya, he added. “Even those who find themselves to be captains, they don’t do it by choice.”

    For the smugglers, Dieudonne explained, “we are the customers, and we are the goods.”

    For years, efforts by the Italian government and the European Union to address migration in the central Mediterranean have focused on the people in Libya — interchangeably called facilitators, smugglers, traffickers, or militia members, depending on which agency you’re speaking to — whose livelihoods come from helping others cross irregularly into Europe. People pay them a fare to organize a journey so dangerous it has taken tens of thousands of lives.

    The European effort to dismantle these smuggling networks has been driven by an unlikely actor: the Italian anti-mafia and anti-terrorism directorate, a niche police office in Rome that gained respect in the 1990s and early 2000s for dismantling large parts of the Mafia in Sicily and elsewhere in Italy. According to previously unpublished internal documents, the office — called the Direzione nazionale antimafia e antiterrorismo, or DNAA, in Italian — took a front-and-center role in the management of Europe’s southern sea borders, in direct coordination with the EU border agency Frontex and European military missions operating off the Libyan coast.

    In 2013, under the leadership of a longtime anti-mafia prosecutor named Franco Roberti, the directorate pioneered a strategy that was unique — or at least new for the border officers involved. They would start handling irregular migration to Europe like they had handled the mob. The approach would allow Italian and European police, coast guard agencies, and navies, obliged by international law to rescue stranded refugees at sea, to at least get some arrests and convictions along the way.

    The idea was to arrest low-level operators and use coercion and plea deals to get them to flip on their superiors. That way, the reasoning went, police investigators could work their way up the food chain and eventually dismantle the smuggling rings in Libya. With every boat that disembarked in Italy, police would make a handful of arrests. Anybody found to have played an active role during the crossing, from piloting to holding a compass to distributing water or bailing out a leak, could be arrested under a new legal directive written by Roberti’s anti-mafia directorate. Charges ranged from simple smuggling to transnational criminal conspiracy and — if people asphyxiated below deck or drowned when a boat capsized — even murder. Judicial sources estimate the number of people arrested since 2013 to be in the thousands.

    For the police, prosecutors, and politicians involved, the arrests were an important domestic political win. At the time, public opinion in Italy was turning against migration, and the mugshots of alleged smugglers regularly held space on front pages throughout the country.

    But according to the minutes of closed-door conversations among some of the very same actors directing these cases, which were obtained by The Intercept under Italy’s freedom of information law, most anti-mafia prosecutions only focused on low-level boat drivers, often migrants who had themselves paid for the trip across. Few, if any, smuggling bosses were ever convicted. Documents of over a dozen trials reviewed by The Intercept show prosecutions built on hasty investigations and coercive interrogations.

    In the years that followed, the anti-mafia directorate went to great lengths to keep the arrests coming. According to the internal documents, the office coordinated a series of criminal investigations into the civilian rescue NGOs working to save lives in the Mediterranean, accusing them of hampering police work. It also oversaw efforts to create and train a new coast guard in Libya, with full knowledge that some coast guard officers were colluding with the same smuggling networks that Italian and European leaders were supposed to be fighting.

    Since its inception, the anti-mafia directorate has wielded unparalleled investigative tools and served as a bridge between politicians and the courts. The documents reveal in meticulous detail how the agency, alongside Italian and European officials, capitalized on those powers to crack down on alleged smugglers, most of whom they knew to be desperate people fleeing poverty and violence with limited resources to defend themselves in court.

    Tragedy and Opportunity

    The anti-mafia directorate was born in the early 1990s after a decade of escalating Mafia violence. By then, hundreds of prosecutors, politicians, journalists, and police officers had been shot, blown up, or kidnapped, and many more extorted by organized crime families operating in Italy and beyond.

    In Palermo, the Sicilian capital, prosecutor Giovanni Falcone was a rising star in the Italian judiciary. Falcone had won unprecedented success with an approach to organized crime based on tracking financial flows, seizing assets, and centralizing evidence gathered by prosecutor’s offices across the island.

    But as the Mafia expanded its reach into the rest of Europe, Falcone’s work proved insufficient.

    In September 1990, a Mafia commando drove from Germany to Sicily to gun down a 37-year-old judge. Weeks later, at a police checkpoint in Naples, the Sicilian driver of a truck loaded with weapons, explosives, and drugs was found to be a resident of Germany. A month after the arrests, Falcone traveled to Germany to establish an information-sharing mechanism with authorities there. He brought along a younger colleague from Naples, Franco Roberti.

    “We faced a stone wall,” recalled Roberti, still bitter three decades later. He spoke to us outside a cafe in a plum neighborhood in Naples. Seventy-three years old and speaking with the rasp of a lifelong smoker, Roberti described Italy’s Mafia problem in blunt language. He bemoaned a lack of international cooperation that, he said, continues to this day. “They claimed that there was no need to investigate there,” Roberti said, “that it was up to us to investigate Italians in Germany who were occasional mafiosi.”

    As the prosecutors traveled back to Italy empty-handed, Roberti remembers Falcone telling him that they needed “a centralized national organ able to speak directly to foreign judicial authorities and coordinate investigations in Italy.”

    “That is how the idea of the anti-mafia directorate was born,” Roberti said. The two began building what would become Italy’s first national anti-mafia force.

    At the time, there was tough resistance to the project. Critics argued that Falcone and Roberti were creating “super-prosecutors” who would wield outsize powers over the courts, while also being subject to political pressures from the government in Rome. It was, they argued, a marriage of police and the judiciary, political interests and supposedly apolitical courts — convenient for getting Mafia convictions but dangerous for Italian democracy.

    Still, in January 1992, the project was approved in Parliament. But Falcone would never get to lead it: Months later, a bomb set by the Mafia killed him, his wife, and the three agents escorting them. The attack put to rest any remaining criticism of Falcone’s plan.

    The anti-mafia directorate went on to become one of Italy’s most important institutions, the national authority over all matters concerning organized crime and the agency responsible for partially freeing the country from its century-old crucible. In the decades after Falcone’s death, the directorate did what many in Italy thought impossible, dismantling large parts of the five main Italian crime families and almost halving the Mafia-related murder rate.

    And yet, by the time Roberti took control in 2013, it had been years since the last high-profile Mafia prosecution, and the organization’s influence was waning. At the same time, Italy was facing unprecedented numbers of migrants arriving by boat. Roberti had an idea: The anti-mafia directorate would start working on what he saw as a different kind of mafia. The organization set its sights on Libya.

    “We thought we had to do something more coordinated to combat this trafficking,” Roberti remembered, “so I put everyone around a table.”

    “The main objective was to save lives, seize ships, and capture smugglers,” Roberti said. “Which we did.”

    Our Sea

    Dieudonne made it to the Libyan port city of Zuwara in August 2014. One more step across the Mediterranean, and he’d be in Europe. The smugglers he paid to get him across the sea took all of his possessions and put him in an abandoned building that served as a safe house to wait for his turn.

    Dieudonne told his story from a small office in Bari, Italy, where he runs a cooperative that helps recent arrivals access local education. Dieudonne is fiery and charismatic. He is constantly moving: speaking, texting, calling, gesticulating. Every time he makes a point, he raps his knuckles on the table in a one-two pattern. Dieudonne insisted that we publish his real name. Others who made the journey more recently — still pending decisions on their residence permits or refugee status — were less willing to speak openly.

    Dieudonne remembers the safe house in Zuwara as a string of constant violence. The smugglers would come once a day to leave food. Every day, they would ask who hadn’t followed their orders. Those inside the abandoned building knew they were less likely to be discovered by police or rival smugglers, but at the same time, they were not free to leave.

    “They’ve put a guy in the refrigerator in front of all of us, to show how the next one who misbehaves will be treated,” Dieudonne remembered, indignant. He witnessed torture, shootings, rape. “The first time you see it, it hurts you. The second time it hurts you less. The third time,” he said with a shrug, “it becomes normal. Because that’s the only way to survive.”

    “That’s why arresting the person who pilots a boat and treating them like a trafficker makes me laugh,” Dieudonne said. Others who have made the journey to Italy report having been forced to drive at gunpoint. “You only do it to be sure you don’t die there,” he said.

    Two years after the fall of Muammar Gaddafi’s government, much of Libya’s northwest coast had become a staging ground for smugglers who organized sea crossings to Europe in large wooden fishing boats. When those ships — overcrowded, underpowered, and piloted by amateurs — inevitably capsized, the deaths were counted by the hundreds.

    In October 2013, two shipwrecks off the coast of the Italian island of Lampedusa took over 400 lives, sparking public outcry across Europe. In response, the Italian state mobilized two plans, one public and the other private.

    “There was a big shock when the Lampedusa tragedy happened,” remembered Italian Sen. Emma Bonino, then the country’s foreign minister. The prime minister “called an emergency meeting, and we decided to immediately launch this rescue program,” Bonino said. “Someone wanted to call the program ‘safe seas.’ I said no, not safe, because it’s sure we’ll have other tragedies. So let’s call it Mare Nostrum.”

    Mare Nostrum — “our sea” in Latin — was a rescue mission in international waters off the coast of Libya that ran for one year and rescued more than 150,000 people. The operation also brought Italian ships, airplanes, and submarines closer than ever to Libyan shores. Roberti, just two months into his job as head of the anti-mafia directorate, saw an opportunity to extend the country’s judicial reach and inflict a lethal blow to smuggling rings in Libya.

    Five days after the start of Mare Nostrum, Roberti launched the private plan: a series of coordination meetings among the highest echelons of the Italian police, navy, coast guard, and judiciary. Under Roberti, these meetings would run for four years and eventually involve representatives from Frontex, Europol, an EU military operation, and even Libya.

    The minutes of five of these meetings, which were presented by Roberti in a committee of the Italian Parliament and obtained by The Intercept, give an unprecedented behind-the-scenes look at the events on Europe’s southern borders since the Lampedusa shipwrecks.

    In the first meeting, held in October 2013, Roberti told participants that the anti-mafia offices in the Sicilian city of Catania had developed an innovative way to deal with migrant smuggling. By treating Libyan smugglers like they had treated the Italian Mafia, prosecutors could claim jurisdiction over international waters far beyond Italy’s borders. That, Roberti said, meant they could lawfully board and seize vessels on the high seas, conduct investigations there, and use the evidence in court.

    The Italian authorities have long recognized that, per international maritime law, they are obligated to rescue people fleeing Libya on overcrowded boats and transport them to a place of safety. As the number of people attempting the crossing increased, many Italian prosecutors and coast guard officials came to believe that smugglers were relying on these rescues to make their business model work; therefore, the anti-mafia reasoning went, anyone who acted as crew or made a distress call on a boat carrying migrants could be considered complicit in Libyan trafficking and subject to Italian jurisdiction. This new approach drew heavily from legal doctrines developed in the United States during the 1980s aimed at stopping drug smuggling.

    European leaders were scrambling to find a solution to what they saw as a looming migration crisis. Italian officials thought they had the answer and publicly justified their decisions as a way to prevent future drownings.

    But according to the minutes of the 2013 anti-mafia meeting, the new strategy predated the Lampedusa shipwrecks by at least a week. Sicilian prosecutors had already written the plan to crack down on migration across the Mediterranean but lacked both the tools and public will to put it into action. Following the Lampedusa tragedy and the creation of Mare Nostrum, they suddenly had both.

    State of Necessity

    In the international waters off the coast of Libya, Dieudonne and 91 others were rescued by a European NGO called Migrant Offshore Aid Station. They spent two days aboard MOAS’s ship before being transferred to an Italian coast guard ship, Nave Dattilo, to be taken to Europe.

    Aboard the Dattilo, coast guard officers asked Dieudonne why he had left his home in Cameroon. He remembers them showing him a photograph of the rubber boat taken from the air. “They asked me who was driving, the roles and everything,” he remembered. “Then they asked me if I could tell him how the trafficking in Libya works, and then, they said, they would give me residence documents.”

    Dieudonne said that he was reluctant to cooperate at first. He didn’t want to accuse any of his peers, but he was also concerned that he could become a suspect. After all, he had helped the driver at points throughout the voyage.

    “I thought that if I didn’t cooperate, they might hurt me,” Dieudonne said. “Not physically hurt, but they could consider me dishonest, like someone who was part of the trafficking.”

    To this day, Dieudonne says he can’t understand why Italy would punish people for fleeing poverty and political violence in West Africa. He rattled off a list of events from the last year alone: draught, famine, corruption, armed gunmen, attacks on schools. “And you try to convict someone for managing to escape that situation?”

    The coast guard ship disembarked in Vibo Valentia, a city in the Italian region of Calabria. During disembarkation, a local police officer explained to a journalist that they had arrested five people. The journalist asked how the police had identified the accused.

    “A lot has been done by the coast guard, who picked [the migrants] up two days ago and managed to spot [the alleged smugglers],” the officer explained. “Then we have witness statements and videos.”

    Cases like these, where arrests are made on the basis of photo or video evidence and statements by witnesses like Dieudonne, are common, said Gigi Modica, a judge in Sicily who has heard many immigration and asylum cases. “It’s usually the same story. They take three or four people, no more. They ask them two questions: who was driving the boat, and who was holding the compass,” Modica explained. “That’s it — they get the names and don’t care about the rest.”

    Modica was one of the first judges in Italy to acquit people charged for driving rubber boats — known as “scafisti,” or boat drivers, in Italian — on the grounds that they had been forced to do so. These “state of necessity” rulings have since become increasingly common. Modica rattled off a list of irregularities he’s seen in such cases: systemic racism, witness statements that migrants later say they didn’t make, interrogations with no translator or lawyer, and in some cases, people who report being encouraged by police to sign documents renouncing their right to apply for asylum.

    “So often these alleged smugglers — scafisti — are normal people who were compelled to pilot a boat by smugglers in Libya,” Modica said.

    Documents of over a dozen trials reviewed by The Intercept show prosecutions largely built on testimony from migrants who are promised a residence permit in exchange for their collaboration. At sea, witnesses are interviewed by the police hours after their rescue, often still in a state of shock after surviving a shipwreck.

    In many cases, identical statements, typos included, are attributed to several witnesses and copied and pasted across different police reports. Sometimes, these reports have been enough to secure decadeslong sentences. Other times, under cross-examination in court, witnesses have contradicted the statements recorded by police or denied giving any testimony at all.

    As early as 2015, attendees of the anti-mafia meetings were discussing problems with these prosecutions. In a meeting that February, Giovanni Salvi, then the prosecutor of Catania, acknowledged that smugglers often abandoned migrant boats in international waters. Still, Italian police were steaming ahead with the prosecutions of those left on board.

    These prosecutions were so important that in some cases, the Italian coast guard decided to delay rescue when boats were in distress in order to “allow for the arrival of institutional ships that can conduct arrests,” a coast guard commander explained at the meeting.

    When asked about the commander’s comments, the Italian coast guard said that “on no occasion” has the agency ever delayed a rescue operation. Delaying rescue for any reason goes against international and Italian law, and according to various human rights lawyers in Europe, could give rise to criminal liability.

    NGOs in the Crosshairs

    Italy canceled Mare Nostrum after one year, citing budget constraints and a lack of European collaboration. In its wake, the EU set up two new operations, one via Frontex and the other a military effort called Operation Sophia. These operations focused not on humanitarian rescue but on border security and people smuggling from Libya. Beginning in 2015, representatives from Frontex and Operation Sophia were included in the anti-mafia directorate meetings, where Italian prosecutors ensured that both abided by the new investigative strategy.

    Key to these investigations were photos from the rescues, like the aerial image that Dieudonne remembers the Italian coast guard showing him, which gave police another way to identify who piloted the boats and helped navigate.

    In the absence of government rescue ships, a fleet of civilian NGO vessels began taking on a large number of rescues in the international waters off the coast of Libya. These ships, while coordinated by the Italian coast guard rescue center in Rome, made evidence-gathering difficult for prosecutors and judicial police. According to the anti-mafia meeting minutes, some NGOs, including MOAS, routinely gave photos to Italian police and Frontex. Others refused, arguing that providing evidence for investigations into the people they saved would undermine their efficacy and neutrality.

    In the years following Mare Nostrum, the NGO fleet would come to account for more than one-third of all rescues in the central Mediterranean, according to estimates by Operation Sophia. A leaked status report from the operation noted that because NGOs did not collect information from rescued migrants for police, “information essential to enhance the understanding of the smuggling business model is not acquired.”

    In a subsequent anti-mafia meeting, six prosecutors echoed this concern. NGO rescues meant that police couldn’t interview migrants at sea, they said, and cases were getting thrown out for lack of evidence. A coast guard admiral explained the importance of conducting interviews just after a rescue, when “a moment of empathy has been established.”

    “It is not possible to carry out this task if the rescue intervention is carried out by ships of the NGOs,” the admiral told the group.

    The NGOs were causing problems for the DNAA strategy. At the meetings, Italian prosecutors and representatives from the coast guard, navy, and Interior Ministry discussed what they could do to rein in the humanitarian organizations. At the same time, various prosecutors were separately fixing their investigative sights on the NGOs themselves.

    In late 2016, an internal report from Frontex — later published in full by The Intercept — accused an NGO vessel of directly receiving migrants from Libyan smugglers, attributing the information to “Italian authorities.” The claim was contradicted by video evidence and the ship’s crew.

    Months later, Carmelo Zuccaro, the prosecutor of Catania, made public that he was investigating rescue NGOs. “Together with Frontex and the navy, we are trying to monitor all these NGOs that have shown that they have great financial resources,” Zuccaro told an Italian newspaper. The claim went viral in Italian and European media. “Friends of the traffickers” and “migrant taxi service” became common slurs used toward humanitarian NGOs by anti-immigration politicians and the Italian far right.

    Zuccaro would eventually walk back his claims, telling a parliamentary committee that he was working off a hypothesis at the time and had no evidence to back it up.

    In an interview with a German newspaper in February 2017, the director of Frontex, Fabrice Leggeri, refrained from explicitly criticizing the work of rescue NGOs but did say they were hampering police investigations in the Mediterranean. As aid organizations assumed a larger percentage of rescues, Leggeri said, “it is becoming more difficult for the European security authorities to find out more about the smuggling networks through interviews with migrants.”

    “That smear campaign was very, very deep,” remembered Bonino, the former foreign minister. Referring to Marco Minniti, Italy’s interior minister at the time, she added, “I was trying to push Minniti not to be so obsessed with people coming, but to make a policy of integration in Italy. But he only focused on Libya and smuggling and criminalizing NGOs with the help of prosecutors.”

    Bonino explained that the action against NGOs was part of a larger plan to change European policy in the central Mediterranean. The first step was the shift away from humanitarian rescue and toward border security and smuggling. The second step “was blaming the NGOs or arresting them, a sort of dirty campaign against them,” she said. “The results of which after so many years have been no convictions, no penalties, no trials.”

    Finally, the third step was to build a new coast guard in Libya to do what the Europeans couldn’t, per international law: intercept people at sea and bring them back to Libya, the country from which they had just fled.

    At first, leaders at Frontex were cautious. “From Frontex’s point of view, we look at Libya with concern; there is no stable state there,” Leggeri said in the 2017 interview. “We are now helping to train 60 officers for a possible future Libyan coast guard. But this is at best a beginning.”

    Bonino saw this effort differently. “They started providing support for their so-called coast guard,” she said, “which were the same traffickers changing coats.”
    Rescued migrants disembarking from a Libyan coast guard ship in the town of Khoms, a town 120 kilometres (75 miles) east of the capital on October 1, 2019.

    Same Uniforms, Same Ships

    Safe on land in Italy, Dieudonne was never called to testify in court. He hopes that none of his peers ended up in prison but said he would gladly testify against the traffickers if called. Aboard the coast guard ship, he remembers, “I gave the police contact information for the traffickers, I gave them names.”

    The smuggling operations in Libya happened out in the open, but Italian police could only go as far as international waters. Leaked documents from Operation Sophia describe years of efforts by European officials to get Libyan police to arrest smugglers. Behind closed doors, top Italian and EU officials admitted that these same smugglers were intertwined with the new Libyan coast guard that Europe was creating and that working with them would likely go against international law.

    As early as 2015, multiple officials at the anti-mafia meetings noted that some smugglers were uncomfortably close to members of the Libyan government. “Militias use the same uniforms and the same ships as the Libyan coast guard that the Italian navy itself is training,” Rear Adm. Enrico Credendino, then in charge of Operation Sophia, said in 2017. The head of the Libyan coast guard and the Libyan minister of defense, both allies of the Italian government, Credendino added, “have close relationships with some militia bosses.”

    One of the Libyan coast guard officers playing both sides was Abd al-Rahman Milad, also known as Bija. In 2019, the Italian newspaper Avvenire revealed that Bija participated in a May 2017 meeting in Sicily, alongside Italian border police and intelligence officials, that was aimed at stemming migration from Libya. A month later, he was condemned by the U.N. Security Council for his role as a top member of a powerful trafficking militia in the coastal town of Zawiya, and for, as the U.N. put it, “sinking migrant boats using firearms.”

    According to leaked documents from Operation Sophia, coast guard officers under Bija’s command were trained by the EU between 2016 and 2018.

    While the Italian government was prosecuting supposed smugglers in Italy, they were also working with people they knew to be smugglers in Libya. Minniti, Italy’s then-interior minister, justified the deals his government was making in Libya by saying that the prospect of mass migration from Africa made him “fear for the well-being of Italian democracy.”

    In one of the 2017 anti-mafia meetings, a representative of the Interior Ministry, Vittorio Pisani, outlined in clear terms a plan that provided for the direct coordination of the new Libyan coast guard. They would create “an operation room in Libya for the exchange of information with the Interior Ministry,” Pisani explained, “mainly on the position of NGO ships and their rescue operations, in order to employ the Libyan coast guard in its national waters.”

    And with that, the third step of the plan was set in motion. At the end of the meeting, Roberti suggested that the group invite representatives from the Libyan police to their next meeting. In an interview with The Intercept, Roberti confirmed that Libyan representatives attended at least two anti-mafia meetings and that he himself met Bija at a meeting in Libya, one month after the U.N. Security Council report was published. The following year, the Security Council committee on Libya sanctioned Bija, freezing his assets and banning him from international travel.

    “We needed to have the participation of Libyan institutions. But they did nothing, because they were taking money from the traffickers,” Roberti told us from the cafe in Naples. “They themselves were the traffickers.”
    A Place of Safety

    Roberti retired from the anti-mafia directorate in 2017. He said that under his leadership, the organization was able to create a basis for handling migration throughout Europe. Still, Roberti admits that his expansion of the DNAA into migration issues has had mixed results. Like his trip to Germany in the ’90s with Giovanni Falcone, Roberti said the anti-mafia strategy faltered because of a lack of collaboration: with the NGOs, with other European governments, and with Libya.

    “On a European level, the cooperation does not work,” Roberti said. Regarding Libya, he added, “We tried — I believe it was right, the agreements [the government] made. But it turned out to be a failure in the end.”

    The DNAA has since expanded its operations. Between 2017 and 2019, the Italian government passed two bills that put the anti-mafia directorate in charge of virtually all illegal immigration matters. Since 2017, five Sicilian prosecutors, all of whom attended at least one anti-mafia coordination meeting, have initiated 15 separate legal proceedings against humanitarian NGO workers. So far there have been no convictions: Three cases have been thrown out in court, and the rest are ongoing.

    Earlier this month, news broke that Sicilian prosecutors had wiretapped journalists and human rights lawyers as part of one of these investigations, listening in on legally protected conversations with sources and clients. The Italian justice ministry has opened an investigation into the incident, which could amount to criminal behavior, according to Italian legal experts. The prosecutor who approved the wiretaps attended at least one DNAA coordination meeting, where investigations against NGOs were discussed at length.

    As the DNAA has extended its reach, key actors from the anti-mafia coordination meetings have risen through the ranks of Italian and European institutions. One prosecutor, Federico Cafiero de Raho, now runs the anti-mafia directorate. Salvi, the former prosecutor of Catania, is the equivalent of Italy’s attorney general. Pisani, the former Interior Ministry representative, is deputy head of the Italian intelligence services. And Roberti is a member of the European Parliament.

    Cafiero de Raho stands by the investigations and arrests that the anti-mafia directorate has made over the years. He said the coordination meetings were an essential tool for prosecutors and police during difficult times.

    When asked about his specific comments during the meetings — particularly statements that humanitarian NGOs needed to be regulated and multiple admissions that members of the new Libyan coast guard were involved in smuggling activities — Cafiero de Raho said that his remarks should be placed in context, a time when Italy and the EU were working to build a coast guard in a part of Libya that was largely ruled by local militias. He said his ultimate goal was what, in the DNAA coordination meetings, he called the “extrajudicial solution”: attempts to prove the existence of crimes against humanity in Libya so that “the United Nation sends troops to Libya to dismantle migrants camps set up by traffickers … and retake control of that territory.”

    A spokesperson for the EU’s foreign policy arm, which ran Operation Sophia, refused to directly address evidence that leaders of the European military operation knew that parts of the new Libyan coast guard were also involved in smuggling activities, only noting that Bija himself wasn’t trained by the EU. A Frontex spokesperson stated that the agency “was not involved in the selection of officers to be trained.”

    In 2019, the European migration strategy changed again. Now, the vast majority of departures are intercepted by the Libyan coast guard and brought back to Libya. In March of that year, Operation Sophia removed all of its ships from the rescue area and has since focused on using aerial patrols to direct and coordinate the Libyan coast guard. Human rights lawyers in Europe have filed six legal actions against Italy and the EU as a result, calling the practice refoulement by proxy: facilitating the return of migrants to dangerous circumstances in violation of international law.

    Indeed, throughout four years of coordination meetings, Italy and the EU were admitting privately that returning people to Libya would be illegal. “Fundamental human rights violations in Libya make it impossible to push migrants back to the Libyan coast,” Pisani explained in 2015. Two years later, he outlined the beginnings of a plan that would do exactly that.

    The Result of Mere Chance

    Dieudonne knows he was lucky. The line that separates suspect and victim can be entirely up to police officers’ first impressions in the minutes or hours following a rescue. According to police reports used in prosecutions, physical attributes like having “a clearer skin tone” or behavior aboard the ship, including scrutinizing police movements “with strange interest,” were enough to rouse suspicion.

    In a 2019 ruling that acquitted seven alleged smugglers after three years of pretrial detention, judges wrote that “the selection of the suspects on one side, and the witnesses on the other, with the only exception of the driver, has almost been the result of mere chance.”

    Carrying out work for their Libyan captors has cost other migrants in Italy lengthy prison sentences. In September 2019, a 22-year-old Guinean nicknamed Suarez was arrested upon his arrival to Italy. Four witnesses told police he had collaborated with prison guards in Zawiya, at the immigrant detention center managed by the infamous Bija.

    “Suarez was also a prisoner, who then took on a job,” one of the witnesses told the court. Handing out meals or taking care of security is what those who can’t afford to pay their ransom often do in order to get out, explained another. “Unfortunately, you would have to be there to understand the situation,” the first witness said. Suarez was sentenced to 20 years in prison, recently reduced to 12 years on appeal.

    Dieudonne remembered his journey at sea vividly, but with surprising cool. When the boat began taking on water, he tried to help. “One must give help where it is needed.” At his office in Bari, Dieudonne bent over and moved his arms in a low scooping motion, like he was bailing water out of a boat.

    “Should they condemn me too?” he asked. He finds it ironic that it was the Libyans who eventually arrested Bija on human trafficking charges this past October. The Italians and Europeans, he said with a laugh, were too busy working with the corrupt coast guard commander. (In April, Bija was released from prison after a Libyan court absolved him of all charges. He was promoted within the coast guard and put back on the job.)

    Dieudonne thinks often about the people he identified aboard the coast guard ship in the middle of the sea. “I told the police the truth. But if that collaboration ends with the conviction of an innocent person, it’s not good,” he said. “Because I know that person did nothing. On the contrary, he saved our lives by driving that raft.”

    https://theintercept.com/2021/04/30/italy-anti-mafia-migrant-rescue-smuggling

    #Méditerranée #Italie #Libye #ONG #criminalisation_de_la_solidarité #solidarité #secours #mer_Méditerranée #asile #migrations #réfugiés #violence #passeurs #Méditerranée_centrale #anti-mafia #anti-terrorisme #Direzione_nazionale_antimafia_e_antiterrorismo #DNAA #Frontex #Franco_Roberti #justice #politique #Zuwara #torture #viol #Mare_Nostrum #Europol #eaux_internationales #droit_de_la_mer #droit_maritime #juridiction_italienne #arrestations #Gigi_Modica #scafista #scafisti #état_de_nécessité #Giovanni_Salvi #NGO #Operation_Sophia #MOAS #DNA #Carmelo_Zuccaro #Zuccaro #Fabrice_Leggeri #Leggeri #Marco_Minniti #Minniti #campagne #gardes-côtes_libyens #milices #Enrico_Credendino #Abd_al-Rahman_Milad #Bija ##Abdurhaman_al-Milad #Al_Bija #Zawiya #Vittorio_Pisani #Federico_Cafiero_de_Raho #solution_extrajudiciaire #pull-back #refoulement_by_proxy #refoulement #push-back #Suarez

    ping @karine4 @isskein @rhoumour

  • Débabéliser le monde avec l’ISOTYPE
    https://visionscarto.net/debabeliser-le-monde

    En 1939 paraît l’ouvrage International Picture Language. The First Rules of Isotype. Otto Neurath y présente une méthode de visualisation de l’information développée avec Marie Reidemeister au sein du Musée économique et social de Vienne depuis une dizaine d’année. Voici quelques exemples illustrant cette entreprise de « débabélisation » du monde par un langage imagé (révolutionnaire). par Nepthys Zwer Otto Neurath conçoit l’Isotype comme une langue internationale qui rend l’information accessible à des (...) #Billets

  • Revisiter la vie et l’héritage intellectuel de Primo Levi

    Il serait banal – et pourtant vrai – de souligner combien la voix de Primo Levi nous manque aujourd’hui, en ces temps de montée de la xénophobie, du racisme et des mouvements d’extrême droite, à une époque où les intellectuels publics ont quasiment disparu en Italie. Mais la lamentation n’a jamais été le style de pensée de Primo Levi et il vaut mieux l’éviter.

    Le destin des classiques est d’être réinterprétés en permanence, et Levi n’y échappe pas. Il existe cependant certaines idées fausses concernant son héritage. Sa relation avec la pensée des Lumières, sa définition en tant qu’écrivain juif et, enfin et surtout, le rôle de Levi en tant que témoin littéraire de l’Holocauste – un mot qu’il n’aimait pas et auquel il est aujourd’hui complètement identifié – ont été mal interprétés au cours des dernières décennies.

    https://entreleslignesentrelesmots.blog/2021/05/01/revisiter-la-vie-et-lheritage-intellectuel-de-primo-lev

    #biographie #politique

  • A Lille, des locataires essuient les plâtres d’un bailleur public 100 % Internet Nicolas Lee - mediacites

    La révolution numérique vire parfois au cauchemar. Dans un immeuble neuf mais truffé de défauts, des locataires de CDC Habitat sont confrontés à un service client entièrement dématérialisé capable de rester plusieurs semaines aux abonnés absents.

    Moisissures sur les murs, dégâts des eaux, prises électriques défectueuses, système de ventilation inopérant… le bâtiment B du 291 boulevard Victor Hugo à Lille a beau être flambant neuf, les problèmes n’ont cessé de s’accumuler depuis son inauguration en décembre 2020. « On ne pensait pas avoir autant de soucis », souffle Fostine, jeune salariée en communication arrivée avec son compagnon parmi les premiers locataires.


    Depuis le boulevard Victor Hugo à Lille, le bâtiment flambant neuf de CDC Habitat. Photo : Nicolas Lee

    Sur les 32 logements de l’immeuble, au moins 10 occupants rapportent des imperfections et des défaillances dans leur foyer. Ce n’est pas la seule galère qu’ils partagent. Tous sont confrontés au même dialogue impossible avec leur bailleur : la Caisse des Dépôts et Consignations Habitat (CDC Habitat). Et à l’obligation de passer par un service client 100 % web.

    « Sans faille côté client »
    
Cela fait maintenant trois ans, en 2017, que l’entreprise publique, plus gros bailleur de France, a pris le tournant de la dématérialisation totale de ses relations avec les locataires. Une décision qui concerne quelque 500 000 logements.« Sans faille côté client », assure Tristant d’Inguimbert, le directeur délégué du service client. De l’entretien qui évalue l’éligibilité à la location jusqu’à la signature du bail sur une tablette numérique, en passant par la communication avec le bailleur après l’emménagement : tout se passe par internet.

    Fostine a trouvé la procédure de location dématérialisée plutôt efficace : « Là-dessus, j’ai rien à redire », reconnaît-elle. Mais les ennuis commencent lorsqu’elle remarque une fuite d’eau importante dans la salle de bain. La jeune locataire contacte alors le bailleur sur l’application « CDC Habitat et moi ». Quelques jours sont nécessaires . . .

    La suite payante : https://www.mediacites.fr/decryptage/lille/2021/04/30/a-lille-des-locataires-essuient-les-platres-dun-bailleur-public-100-inter

     #ia #algorithme #révolution_numérique #intelligence_artificielle #technologisme #bigdata #bêtise #CDC_Habitat #cauchemar #immobilier #dématérialisation #sevice_client #locataire #logement #internet #Lille #PS

  • Cartes heuristiques
    https://visionscarto.net/cartes-heuristiques

    Les cartes heuristiques présentées ci-dessous sont des schémas de synthèse d’une réflexion sur un thème précis. Généralement réalisés à partir d’une ou plusieurs sources, ces dessins me permettent de réfléchir en tournant autour d’un sujet, d’un problème ou d’une question. Il ne s’agit plus d’avancer de haut en bas, comme si la pensée était hiérarchisée mais plutôt d’envisager les variables qui composent une idée comme placées en orbite autour d’un centre qui les relie. Ces cartes sont un moyen de détente qui ne (...) #Billets

  • Why COVID-19 vaccine « passports » threaten human rights
    https://www.accessnow.org/covid-19-vaccine-passports-threaten-human-rights

    As the global COVID-19 vaccine rollout gains momentum, governments from Bahrain to Denmark are clamoring to implement measures to help the world return to pre-virus normality. This includes exploring digital vaccine certificates — or COVID-19 vaccine “passports” — that would record and authenticate a person’s vaccination status. Current proposals, however, threaten human rights by creating space for exclusion and discrimination to flourish, and posing serious long-term threats to the privacy and (...)

    #passeport #biométrie #données #COVID-19 #discrimination #santé #AccessNow

    ##santé

  • In Mexico, a controversial new law requires cell phone users to hand over sensitive information to the government
    https://www.codastory.com/authoritarian-tech/mexico-biometric-cell-phone-law

    The law adds Mexico to a list of 18 countries globally that require biometric data registration for cell phone users Digital rights groups are sounding the alarm about a new law in Mexico that would require all cell phone users to register their personal information and biometric data in a massive government database. The legislation, signed into law by Mexican president Andrés Manuel López Obrador on April 16, adds Mexico to a list of 18 countries globally — including China, Saudi Arabia, (...)

    #smartphone #SIM #biométrie #données #législation #surveillance #AccessNow

  • L’inclusivité en point de mire

    Nous l’avions promis, le voici, notre nouveau dossier sur l’écriture inclusive. Depuis début mars, celle-ci infuse nos pages, titillant nos réflexes acquis et ceux de nos lecteurs ou lectrices. Plusieurs ont applaudi des deux mains ou désapprouvé avec virulence : découvrez quelques-unes de leurs réactions en page 2, où nous évoquons aussi nos propres expériences.

    Le #langage_inclusif est encore en création, même s’il y a vingt ans déjà que la Confédération l’a intégré, comme bien d’autres lieux publics tel Le Poche, à Genève, qui parle au #féminin_générique (pp. 23 et 24). En 2013 déjà, à l’occasion du 8 mars, votre journal changeait de sexe et devenait La Courrier. Que l’#inclusivité passe désormais dans le langage courant véhiculé par Le Courrier ou par la RTS (p. 3) s’accompagne forcément d’#inconfort. Mais aussi de #stimulations et de #bienfaits : nous interroger plus précisément sur l’outil que nous manions et sur sa capacité à désigner la #mixité du monde enrichira notre regard. Et donc nos pages.

    Dans celles-ci, des spécialistes jugent différemment les outils de l’inclusivité et l’impact du langage sur nos #représentations, notamment celles des enfants (pp. 4 et 5). Quel que soit notre point de vue, on aurait tort de voir dans ces #transformations_linguistiques une querelle des Anciens et des Modernes : la spécialiste de la Renaissance Eliane Viennot rappelle que le français a longtemps été plus inclusif qu’il ne l’est aujourd’hui. Et des politiciennes disent combien l’inclusivité est une aide pour obtenir davantage de #justice (p. 2).

    On aurait tort aussi d’y voir un projet élitiste : la volonté de changement n’est pas d’abord venue des universités ni du pouvoir, mais de la rue. De femmes – et d’hommes – pour qui une langue plus #inclusive est une évidence. Et il faut rappeler que le #langage_épicène ne remplace pas les autres combats pour l’égalité, mais les accompagne. Au final, note Eliane Viennot, « nous sommes toutes et tous responsables de ce que nous disons et écrivons ». Et « si nous voulons une société plus juste, il faut progresser sur ce terrain-là aussi ». Bonne lecture, toustes !

    https://lecourrier.ch/2021/04/29/linclusivite-en-point-de-mire

    Le dossier complet (#paywall) :


    https://lecourrier.ch/dossier/ecriture-inclusive

    #journalisme #presse #Suisse #Le_Courrier #écriture_inclusive

  • Ein guter Beitrag über Herrschaft und das, was sie aufrecht erhält:...
    https://diasp.eu/p/12822032

    Ein guter Beitrag über Herrschaft und das, was sie aufrecht erhält: „Entstanden im aufsteigenden Bürgertum, hat er sich #Bildung als ein unhinterfragtes Konzept über die Gesellschaft gelegt. Bis heute sind für „akademische“ Kinder die Chancen zigfach höher, an eine Uni zu kommen und dort Erfolg zu haben. Es sind nicht alle „ihres Glückes Schmied“. Das ist Ideologie, denn wir leben nicht in einer herrschaftsfreien Gesellschaft, in der es egal wäre, woher man kommt.“ https://www.freitag.de/autoren/der-freitag/der-freie-wille-ist-eine-ideologie

    • [...]

      Diese „Chemie“ sorgt ja auch dafür, dass schichtenübergreifende Lebenspartnerschaften kaum häufiger sind als ethnisch „gemischte“. Aber wie wirkt sie bei der sozialen Vererbung?

      Sie entsteht im Herkunftsmilieu, dessen soziale Position durch den Zugriff auf ökonomische, kulturelle, soziale und symbolische Ressourcen bestimmt ist. Wichtig sind aber auch Identifikationsprozesse mit diesem Milieu und seinem Habitus. Bildungsarmut entsteht nicht nur, wenn die Eltern zu wenig kulturelles Kapital „vererben“, sondern auch in dem, was sie stattdessen weitergeben. Nämlich bestimmte „Komplexe“, etwa eine starke Unsicherheit gegenüber Bildung. Man fühlt sich minderwertig, traut sich nichts zu und versucht es dann kaum. Selbst bei manchen Studierenden sehe ich das, obwohl die es ja alle immerhin an die Universität geschafft haben. Wer etwa Dialekt spricht, was ja zumeist nicht als „legitime Kultur“ gilt, traut sich oft nicht, im Seminar etwas zu sagen.

      An diesem Punkt würden nun viele mit Hintergrund in der „legitimen Kultur“ einwenden: Na ja, versuchen müssen sie es schon selbst. Lehrjahre sind keine Herrenjahre!

      Wer das so sagt, muss seine Herkunft komplett vergessen haben. Aber tatsächlich treten „ererbte“ Unsicherheiten auch offensiv auf, als Trotz, als scheinbare Selbstsicherheit. Etwa in der Abwertung von „Studierten“, die „keinen Nagel einschlagen“ können. Aus der Not wird eine Tugend, man tröstet sich im Vorhinein über versagte Chancen: „So ein Schreibtischjob wäre wirklich nichts für mich.“ Das wirkt wie sich selbst erfüllende Prophetie, wie ein Teufelskreis, dem schwer zu entkommen ist. Schon Kinder entsprechen oft unwillkürlich den schlechten Meinungen, die Lehrkräfte von ihnen haben, was diese Zuschreibungen wiederum bestärkt.

      [...]

  • La crise sanitaire n’a pas eu lieu 2/2
    https://www.pardem.org/la-crise-sanitaire-na-pas-eu-lieu-22

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNV19wz3GXg

    Tout est sujet à caution dans le récit officiel et médiatique de la crise « sanitaire ». Les choix du gouvernement d’interdire aux médecins de ville de prescrire et donc de traiter les malades, de tout miser sur de nouvelles molécules plutôt que de chercher un remède parmi les molécules connues, de confiner pour ne pas « saturer » les hôpitaux publics dont les gouvernements successifs ont réduit les capacités d’accueil et de soin depuis des décennies, de favoriser et de pré-acheter des vaccins vis-à-vis desquels la communauté scientifique est très divisée mais qui rapportent gros aux grands groupes pharmaceutiques démontrent le mépris du pouvoir envers le service public et la santé publique.
    Les interdits imposés (confinement, couvre-feu, fermetures administratives, attestations de déplacement, application de traçage « TousAntiCovid ») montrent que le souci du gouvernement Macron et de l’Union européenne n’est pas la santé publique mais bien de museler la population, favoriser l’accroissement des profits des multinationales, la paupérisation des services publics pour mieux les décrédibiliser et les privatiser.

    #covid-19 #coronavirus #santé #santé_publique #france #confinement #bigdata #sante abandon de #soins #hôpital #demondialisation #Sécurité_Sociale #destruction #protection #Démocratie

  • Frontex Twitter Account Assessment Paper :

    Un document qui date de très probablement de 2015, moment dans lequel Frontex réfléchit les avantages et inconvénients d’avoir un compte twitter.

    * Preliminary note *

    It is clear that a significant part of discussions about Frontex does not take place in mainstream media. There is a large quantity of Tweets, blogs, online fora and discussions dedicated either directly to Frontex or to the wider topic of migration. Politicians and activists communicate regularly about Frontex without us being aware of it or being able to influence it. For a signific ant share of young people information gained online is the only source of information. According to Shaefer (2014) over 90% of US and some 75% of European journalists use social media as the primary source of information for breaking stories. As many corporate crises have proved in the past 3 years, Twitter is increasingly proving to be an invaluable tool for PR crisis management as it allows putting our side of the story not only in real time, but also directly to the concerned target audiences. By ignoring social media we will not make it go away. There is little doubt we should have a better picture of what is said ‘out there’ about Frontex and that we should start reaching out to those audiences we have virtually no contact with.

    Dans cet assessment, il y a une section dédiée aux #target_groups (p.4) :

    où figurent dans les "Frontex critics" : #Frontexit, #Migreurop, les #Verts, #Die_Linke, #No_Borders, #Panopticon et des non-spécifiées "migrants associations"

    Parmi les menaces que Frontex voit dans cette stratégie liée aux réseaux sociaux :

    “Insufficient and irregular engagement due to lack of dedicated staff to manage response to criticism could damage Frontex reputation”

    https://fragdenstaat.de/en/documents/9317-microsoft-word-twitter-strategy

    –-> document qui fait partie de la requête du 20.12.2020 ”Frontex Social Media Guidelines” :
    https://fragdenstaat.de/en/request/frontex-social-media-guidelines

    #réseaux_sociaux #surveillance #twitter #Frontex #migrations #big_brother #image #réputation

    ping @etraces

  • Saccager la montagne pour des canons à neige : le désastre des retenues collinaires
    https://reporterre.net/Saccager-la-montagne-pour-des-canons-a-neige-le-desastre-des-retenues-co

    Grimper en haut du plateau de #Beauregard, à 1 741 mètres d’altitude, sur les hauteurs de la station de #La_Clusaz (Haute-Savoie), c’est bénéficier d’un splendide panorama sur le massif des #Aravis et sur le majestueux mont Blanc. Cette vaste prairie, où l’on peut croiser des chamois, des renards voire le rare tétras-lyre, est aujourd’hui menacée par les pelleteuses qui vont y construire une #retenue_collinaire. Un réservoir d’#eau pour abreuver les #canons_à_neige et maintenir le manteau neigeux de la station, chaque année plus fragile sous l’effet du dérèglement climatique. La mairie assure que cette retenue d’une capacité de 150 000 m3, la cinquième de la commune, permettra également de sécuriser l’alimentation en eau potable.

    Mais les opposants, réunis au sein de l’association #Nouvelle_Montagne, s’indignent du « #saccage d’un sanctuaire de #biodiversité ». Sur le site de leur pétition, qui a récolté quasiment 50 000 signatures, ils rappellent que le site est classé #Natura_2000 et que cette retenue collinaire mettra en danger l’#équilibre_hydrologique et détruira des #écosystèmes, lieu de vie de sept espèces d’#oiseaux.

    #neige_de_culture.

  • La #naturalisation comme #dépolitisation de la pandémie - Perspectives Printanières, par @twoinou_
    https://perspectives-printanieres.info/index.php/2021/04/27/catastrophisme-pandemique

    Un premier principe d’une approche sanitaire raisonnée de la #pandémie réside dans la possibilité de reconnaître que l’expertise du conseil scientifique – et plus généralement du corps scientifique spécialisé (qui n’inclut pas que les médecins et épidémiologistes) – est vitale. Cette reconnaissance n’est pas possible en régime catastrophiste, car le virus est considéré comme inévitablement meurtrier, délégitimant le fait de tout faire pour sauver des vies. Le #catastrophisme pandémique est ainsi #criminel car il alimente l’idée que l’« empirisme zéro » invalide toutes les conclusions scientifiques immédiates en matière infectiologique ou épidémiologique62.
    Second principe : la raison sanitaire n’ancre pas dans la population l’idée d’une mise en balance des générations : les vulnérabilités de chacun·e à l’instant T sont reconnues et appréhendées. L’attention est ainsi portée sur la position sociale des personnes (genre, race, classe mais aussi handicap), plutôt que sur leur seul âge. Ce principe n’est d’ailleurs pas valable qu’en temps de pandémie, puisque la #vulnérabilité est une condition continue et non événementielle – dans cette optique, l’auteur de ces lignes vous invite à signer la pétition en cours pour la déconjugalisation de l’Allocation aux Adultes Handicapés (AAH).
    Un troisième principe de raison sanitaire pour gérer la pandémie réside dans la maximisation des capacités hospitalières : celle-ci permet de faire disparaître le tri qu’est obligé de pratiquer le personnel médical lorsqu’il manque de lits. Maximiser les capacités des services de #santé permet aussi d’en réduire la surcharge, dont le poids des dispositifs managériaux sur le traitement des patients – la résorption de la nécessité managériale ne permet toutefois pas d’affirmer que les biais racistes du corps médical se réduiront, car ceux-ci ne résultent pas (ou pas seulement) d’une telle gestion des capacités de soin. Plus généralement, une raison sanitaire primant sur le nouveau #managérialisme hospitalier redonnerait aux services de santé leur destination publique essentielle.
    Le déploiement de moyens exceptionnels permettant d’anticiper la catastrophe constitue un quatrième principe63 de l’idée de raison sanitaire. L’ouverture des brevets vaccinaux pour les produire en masse, sans dépendre du bon vouloir de groupes industriels mettant en balance leurs intérêts économiques et la santé des populations64. Déployer de tels moyens exceptionnels face à la catastrophe, c’est refuser la stratégie catastrophiste d’attente et de réaction face aux impacts variés de la pandémie.

  • L’ASEAN sermonne les militaires birmans, mais ... (https://vietnam-...
    https://diasp.eu/p/12807777

    L’ASEAN sermonne les militaires birmans, mais ...

    Le sommet extraordinaire de l’Association des nations de l’Asie du Sud-Est (ASEAN), qui s’est tenu le 24 avril à Jakarta pour discuter du coup d’État sanglant au Myanmar, n’a rien donné de plus qu’une légère remontrance au généralissime Min Aung Hlaing, lui demandant de mettre fin aux meurtres.

    C’était pourtant pourtant la première fois que les membres de l’ASEAN convoquaient le chef de gouvernement d’un pays membres pour l’admonester.

    Néanmoins, selon Phil Robertson, directeur adjoint pour l’Asie de Human Rights Watch, “l’absence d’un calendrier d’action clair et la faiblesse bien connue de l’ASEAN dans la mise en œuvre des décisions et des plans qu’elle émet sont des préoccupations réelles que personne ne devrait négliger. Il est absolument nécessaire de (...)