The librarian who defied the Taliban
Thu, August 11, 2022 

Wahida Amiri was kept in detention by the Taliban

Wahida Amiri worked as an ordinary librarian before the Taliban takeover of Afghanistan last August. But when the militants started to strip women of their rights, she became one of the leading voices against them. She told the BBC's Sodaba Haidare how protesting against Taliban rule led to her arrest and why she decided to leave her country.

The Taliban said I was a spy. That I had helped start an uprising against them. That I went onto the streets and protested just to get fame. "Go home and cook", said one of them.

But the truth is, I only wanted one thing: equal rights for Afghan women. The right to go to school, to work, to be heard. Is that too much to ask for?


The day they came to arrest us, an eerie silence had fallen over Kabul. In recent days a number of women who had protested against the Taliban had been taken, so we were moved to a safe house.

In the last few months since the Taliban took over Afghanistan, I had been a strong and proud woman, marching through the streets to protest against them. I looked them in the eye and said: "You can't treat me like a second class citizen. I'm a woman and I'm your equal." Now, I'm hiding in this unknown place, not knowing my crime but wondering if they'll come for me.

Wahida worked as a librarian before the fall of Kabul

Suddenly, tires came screeching and broke to a halt outside the building. I couldn't count the number of cars or soldiers. It seemed they had come prepared to arrest a whole village and not just a few women marching to live freely in their own country.

When they barged into the room, in the middle of all my friends' screams and panic I could hear them say: "Have you got Wahida Amiri, have you found her? Where is she?" I thought: "This is it. It's over, I'm going to die."
The library was my happy place

Before the tragic day of 15 August 2021, I was an ordinary woman. I had graduated with a law degree and now at 33 years old I ran a library in the heart of Kabul.

The library was my happy place where everyone was welcome, especially women. Sometimes we discussed topics like feminism over chai sabzi, the traditional Afghan green tea with cardamom. Afghanistan wasn't perfect, but we had freedom.

I cared deeply about books because up until the age of 20 I couldn't read myself.

I had just started school when the Taliban first rolled into Afghanistan, waving their black and white flags. The year was 1996.

One of their first orders was to shut schools for girls.

All our relatives fled to Panjshir, a mountainous valley in the north and our original home. But my father decided to stay and after my mother died, he remarried. The years that followed were extremely painful.

"I want to put pressure on the Taliban to reopen schools, to let our girls learn," says Wahida

We moved to Pakistan where all the chores and responsibilities in the house fell on my shoulders. I cooked, cleaned and scrubbed the floors all day long. I thought this would be my life. Then came September 11, 2001.

I watched the fall of the twin towers on TV. It wasn't until much later that I properly learnt about 9/11 and how much that day changed the lives of ordinary Afghans like us. Before long we waved goodbye to Pakistan. The Taliban had been defeated and it was safe to go home - we'd never be refugees again and I'd never come back here, that's what I thought.

I was 15 when we moved back to Kabul and I saw how different life was now that the Taliban were not in charge - girls were going to school, women could work. But not much changed for me. To my family keeping the house tidy and serving guests was more valuable than my education - so I carried on running a house until my cousin helped me to enrol back into a school some five years later.

The letters in the books were shaped strangely - the words looked back at my face blankly. I took exams and scrubbed floors at home at the same time. And every time I failed I would try again and again, until I passed.

When by some miracle I got accepted into university to study law, I was still a shy and timid girl - until a woman came into my life. Her name was Virginia Woolf. Her manifesto was A Room of One's Own. I felt like I was reborn. The book of this important English author taught me everything I should have known a long time ago. The more I read, the more I realised that I was a strong woman with my own thoughts.
The fall of Kabul

On a hot day in August, the nightmare I had lived through once returned to my life. The Taliban drove into Kabul waving the same black and white flags.

Only this time it wasn't 1996, it was 2021. And I wasn't a child. I wasn't uneducated. I had gone through hell to build a life, and I wasn't going to hand it over to them just like that.

I was relieved when I found other women had the same thoughts. We knew the risks of defying the Taliban but we all said "let's protest". We came up with a name for our group: Spontaneous Movement of Fighting Women of Afghanistan.

One of the protests Wahida (on the right) helped to organise in Kabul

At this point the Taliban had already shown their true colours. They backtracked on their promise to allow women to return to work and shut schools for girls once again. They announced their new "government" and there was not a single woman in it.

In those first days, as we marched on the streets for our rights, the Taliban cornered us. They fired teargas at us, and shots in the air - they even beat some of the women. Then they banned protests altogether.

Most of the women decided not to carry on, it was too risky. But they couldn't stop me.

I continued organising protests. The night before each one I couldn't sleep. I'd be restless and scared. I'd keep thinking "tomorrow will be the last day of my life".

File photo of an Afghan woman taking part in a protest

The arrest

In Afghanistan, arresting a woman is the same as ruining her reputation. There's a general assumption that she's been raped and in the Afghan society, it's the worst kind of shame a woman will carry.

That day in February 2022, when the Taliban stormed into the safe house to arrest us, we were ordered to hand in our phones. I couldn't breathe. "What's next?" I thought. "Will they kill me? Gang rape me? Torture me?" I felt like I had a body but my soul had left me.

We were put in their pickup trucks and taken to the Ministry of Interior Affairs. We passed a long hallway with a red carpet and were led to a small room that used to be the ministry's nursery, though it didn't look like one. No paintings, no toys, just a few national flags of Afghanistan piled up in the corner and a giant map of the country on the wall. We'd be kept in this place for the next 19 days.

The day after our arrest, one of the Taliban pushed the door open and stormed in. He was tall and had a dark expression. His eyes scanned the room and when he found me he shouted abusive words - he said I was "dirty" and "impure". "You've been insulting the [Islamic] Emirate for the past six months. Who are you collaborating with?"

I told him: "No-one, I'm doing it all on my own." Then he handed me a pen and piece of paper and said "You're a spy. Write down the name of all your collaborators."

Wahida on her journey from Afghanistan to Pakistan

Since I was from Panjshir, a province known for resisting against the Taliban, they thought I was being supported by the National Resistant Front, an armed group that is fighting them in the north.

The days that followed were slow. One by one the other women were released, but not me. Then one day they brought in a camera and told those of us remaining that they were going to ask us questions and we were to answer them looking at the lens.

When we demanded to know what the recording was for, they said it was just a formality and would be kept in the ministry's archives. We were told to say our names, which province we were from and who was helping us. By force they made us say Afghan activists abroad told us to protest.

We didn't know at the time but this would give people the impression that we marched to become famous and be evacuated from Afghanistan.

Shortly after, they released the forced confessions to the media. In a small TV in the hallway we saw the video being played by Tolo News, one of the largest TV stations in Afghanistan.

We all broke down crying. Now everyone knew we were taken by the Taliban. They didn't rape us, but in the eyes of many people they had. Now everyone thought we protested just to get help to leave Afghanistan.

Wahida clears her head in a local park

Two days after the forced confessions they said we were free to go. It came with a price, though - we had to promise not to protest again.

Kabul was cold, the streets were empty.

On the way home, my eldest brother couldn't stop scolding me. "What were you thinking, Wahida? Did you really think you could bring the Taliban down? You're just one woman." I was ashamed. I had lost everything. My job, my freedom and now the meaning of my life if I couldn't protest anymore.

One day I read an anonymous interview with another female protestor who said the Taliban had beaten us while we were in their custody. They hadn't. My family begged me to leave Kabul as they were worried the Taliban would be angered by the article and come for us again.

So, two months after my release I packed a small bag of clothes and some of my favourite books, including A Room of One's Own, and said goodbye to my motherland.

Wahida eats at an Afghan restaurant to remind herself of home

I left home at the crack of dawn and once again ended up in Pakistan.

I left my whole family. I left my bookshelves. I left the library. The last time I was there was the 14th of August, one day before the fall of Kabul. I sometimes wonder what happened to those books - are they still there?

I was a librarian in my previous life, now I am a refugee.
A new life

I live with a number of other families in Pakistan. I stare at my books but I don't have the energy to flick through the pages. I feel trapped like I can't dream or escape to another reality, even if it's just for a moment.

The women still in my country are being silenced with many afraid of opposing the Taliban openly. I go to the park to clear my head but the thought of my people doesn't leave me. I miss my home, my family and my cat.

The only thing that gives me a little joy and reminds me of home is an Afghan restaurant nearby.

These days I spend a lot of time in the local library, trying to put some words together about the women who protested. About our lives and how much they changed because of the Taliban.

Wahida is working on a book about the women who protested

I hope what I'm writing could one day turn into a book. I want women around the world to know Afghan women didn't just give up, they fought and when they were silenced and defeated they rose again, in one form or another.

I spend the rest of my time speaking to Afghan women all over the world - from Germany to the US - organising a global movement against the Taliban.

My aim is to make sure the international community never recognise them as an official government. I want them to put pressure on the group to reopen schools, to let our girls learn, to let us live freely in our own country.

I've wasted too much time not being able to read. To this day there are certain letters I still can't pronounce the way I should. I don't want the same for the future generations of my country.

Photos by Munazza Anwaar and Musa Yawari.

Afghanistan: One year on from fall of Kabul, little hope for female athletes

A year ago, the Taliban regained control of Afghanistan amid chaotic scenes. Female athletes who remain in the country now fear for their lives, while those who left have little hope of resuming their careers.

One year since the return of the Taliban, female Afghan athletes still face an uncertain future

"I knew if I stayed, the Taliban would find me, beat me and burn me alive. So, I thought if I got killed by a bullet or I was crushed at the airport while waiting to escape the country, it would be an easier death."

Recalling how she stood among more than 10,000 people desperately waiting, hoping and praying to pass through one of three gates and get inside Kabul airport in August 2021, Nilofar's story is all too common.

The morning after the former footballer's wedding day, the Taliban recaptured the Afghan capital, overthrowing the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan under President Ashraf Ghani and reinstating the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan under the control of the Taliban.

Eleven months on, Nilofar remembers with terrifying accuracy the days spent without sleep, hearing the cries of mothers around her who could do little but watch their children suffocate in the mass of people frantically attempting to get one of the few flights out of the country. 

Nilofar's only crime had been to have the audacity to participate in a form of sporting activity and encourage other girls to do so too. But it led the Taliban to hunt her.

"Every human should be able to do these activities," Nilofar told DW. "It is a human right, but the Taliban do not accept women as human.

"They make the girls believe that playing sport is a crime for women because the philosophy that the Taliban have is that women are made for the home and nothing else."

Desperation: There were chaotic scenes at Kabul airport when the Taliban

 regained control of the capital

A lucky escape with a tragic twist

Nilofar eventually got inside the airport perimeter with the help of an American soldier, but refused to leave until she could ensure that 16 footballers on the local team she coached – who were still on the other side of the gate – would make it on to a plane, too.

In the end, she was only able to bring eight other girls with her. Days after reaching Doha, Qatar, Nilofar learned that the American soldier who helped them had been killed in the suicide bombing of the airport on August 26, 2021.

Although Nilofar was one of the lucky ones to reach safety in a third country, there has been a significant mental toll for those who escaped. 

Young female Afghan athletes are scattered across the globe, still too scared to even contemplate playing sport again and constantly worried about their families who remain under threat in Afghanistan – simply because their daughters participated in a sporting activity in the previous 20 years.

"It's hard when I turn on the TV and see the sports channels or I see a soccer match," Nilofar explains. "I think back to the girls who I worked with, who I encouraged to play sports, whose activities I facilitated with equipment.

"I think back to the days when we worked hard to encourage women to stand up for their rights.

"Now the girls hate themselves for being a part of a soccer team and having been a soccer player. They blame themselves for the misery that their families are now suffering."

Boys playing volleyball in Afghanistan – an activity which was frowned upon for girls

'We lost 20 years of achievements and efforts in Afghanistan'

Afghan national volleyball player Muzhgan Sadat paints an almost identical picture. Without any opportunities to pursue her passion for sport, constant uncertainty and worry for her teammates still trapped in Afghanistan, hers is a life stuck in limbo.

Sadat had already been forced to leave her home country in 2019 due to Taliban threats over her role as captain of the national volleyball team. 

Watching the scenes in Kabul unfolding last August from Kazakhstan, where she was attending university, Sadat saw years of progress disappear overnight.

"We lost our 20 years of achievements and efforts in Afghanistan to build our team," she told DW. "We worked so hard for that, gathering female participants, encouraging families and girls to participate in the sports community in Afghanistan.

"Then suddenly you wake up one day and everything is gone. It's like a bad dream."

Sadat recollected how, in 2017, female athletes across the country received written warnings from the Taliban to cease all sporting activities or face serious consequences.

Despite the threats, Sadat and her volleyball teammates put their desire to enjoy a simple human right and to play sport ahead of their own safety.

"[Afghanistan] is a country where, as a woman, you can assume there will be attacks from anywhere," Sadat said. "When you're doing any activities, you cannot say you are safe. 

"All of us who were going to training, either with the Olympic committee or at private clubs, accepted the risks, knowing something could happen to us – maybe the terrorists or others would attack or kill us."

Peace: Female athletes from Afghanistan just want a safe place to play sports

Learning to ride a bike

Over the past year, the situation for female athletes who remain in Kabul has become far bleaker – with many trapped inside their homes, knowing that just stepping outside could be costly.

Sadat and Nilofar, alongside many non-profit organizations, continue to work find escape routes for those still in Afghanistan but progress through official channels is slow and unofficial routes into neighboring countries such as Pakistan are risky.

Despite the pain, Nilofar and some of the female footballers she used to train in Afghanistan have been able to carve out one moment of happiness after reaching their current location.

"I was very eager to learn how to ride a bike," says Nilofar. "It sounds childish because children learn to ride bikes when they are three or four years old. But as a woman in Afghanistan, you were not allowed to ride a bicycle around the city, even when the Taliban were not in charge.

"When we arrived [here], I learned to ride a bike along with some of the other girls. It was such a great experience and I wish every girl would be able to do that."

Sadat too continues to hope and dream of a day when she and her teammates will be together again and able to compete in the sport they love.

"We haven't lost our hope that one day all of [her volleyball teammates] can get out of Afghanistan and can start playing again in peace," she says. "With no one interrupting them, no one stopping their activities or preventing them from achieving their dreams."

Edited by Matt Ford

India: Metro project at Mumbai's Aarey forest stokes ecological concerns

Locals and activists in Mumbai fear thousands of trees will be knocked down to make way for a new transportation project, resulting in ecological destruction and endangering wildlife in the area.

The construction of a metro project would cause irreversible damage to

 the area's ecological diversity, say activists

"Anyone destroying the forest is destroying our gods," said Vanita Rajesh Thakre, who belongs to one of the tribal communities living in the Aarey forest area, located in the heart of Mumbai city, India's financial capital.   

"We have a deep relation with the forest. We get our food, medicines and livelihood from the forest. Our gods live in this forest."

Tribal communities, like Thakre's, and environmental activists have been protesting against the state government's plans to push ahead with the construction of a multi-level parking unit for the city's metro rail in a part of the forest.

They fear thousands of trees will be knocked down, resulting in ecological destruction and endangering wildlife in the area.

"Whose metro is it?" Thakre asked. "It won't be for us."

Strong public opposition

Aarey forest — known locally as the Aarey "milk colony" — is an ecologically sensitive zone (ESZ) in the center of Mumbai. It is part of the same forest as Sanjay Gandhi National Park (SGNP), a protected area in the city.

But in 2016, the then state government allocated 33 hectares of the 1,300 hectare forest for the metro rail parking unit.

The move triggered intense public opposition.

In 2019, opponents petitioned India's Supreme Court challenging the construction.

The top court then ordered authorities to stop the cutting down of trees in the area, although it did not halt the construction of the metro unit.

Activists say the government is ignoring major ecological concerns by 

pushing ahead with the metro project

'It is a constitutional crisis'

During a court hearing last week, the Maharashtra government contended that no new trees had been cut in Aarey since 2019.

But activists say that is not true.

They allege that felling and removal of trees has continued unabated despite the top court's ruling.

"This is not an environmental crisis anymore. It is a constitutional crisis that an elected government is refusing to acknowledge the order of the Supreme Court and doing as it pleases," said environmental activist Sanjiv Valsan.

Stalin Dayanand, director of the NGO Vanashakti, said trees were not being "cut" but were being knocked down using bulldozers, circumventing the court order. "There are tree maps and photographs that show how much damage is being done to Aarey," he noted.

Destruction of animal habitat

Another concern is that the construction would cause irreversible damage to the diversity found in the area.

Aarey is home to rich flora and fauna, including mammals such as leopards, reptiles such as cobras and Russell vipers, birds and species of insects and wild-flowers.

In 2019, a new species of jumping spider, Jerzego sunillimaye, was discovered in Aarey.

It also contains species listed on the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN)'s red list of threatened species. The leopards in Aarey are classified under the near-threatened category.

"These animals do not treat the SGNP and Aarey differently," said Nikit Surve, a researcher with the Wildlife Conservation Society in India. "Camera traps show that they use these areas as part of their territory, but it also does not mean that they live there exclusively."

Aarey is home to rich flora and fauna, including mammals such as leopards, 

reptiles such as cobras and Russell vipers, birds and species of insects and wild-flowers

How crucial are urban forests

Valsan said the government is ignoring major ecological concerns by pushing ahead with the construction.

"Aarey, being a flood plain of the Mithi River, by the concretization of the earmarked area will pose a flood risk for neighboring areas and could result in the flooding of the area occupying the Mumbai international airport, as well as Marol and Saki Naka areas during heavy rains," he underlined.

According to a 2017 report, the per capita tree density of Mumbai was just 0.28, compared to an ideal tree-human ratio of seven trees for every person. It highlights the pressing need to protect Mumbai's endangered tree density.

"Urban forests are crucial for several reasons, both socially and ecologically," said Kanchi Kohli, senior researcher at the Centre for Policy Research. "Ecologically, urban forests and other green spaces can help cities mitigate pollution, congestion and maintain other environmental functions like water recharge."

Kohli added that urban forests "bring to life and make accessible biodiversity, birds, butterflies, trees, wetlands to everyday life of metros and towns."

And it this way of life that locals and environmental activists say their "Save Aarey" campaign is trying to protect.

Edited by: Srinivas Mazumdaru

Japan's film industry under pressure over abuse

The Japanese film industry is following in the footsteps of the #MeToo campaign in other parts of the world, although some fear it will be impossible to entirely stamp out abuse that has become commonplace.



Japan's movie sector is under growing pressure to clean up its act

Actors, production crew and off-screen workers in Japan's movie and television industry have launched a campaign against harassment and sexual assault in the sector, which they describe as "a hotbed of sexual violence and abuse."

Japan's entertainment industry has long been rumored to be rife with unscrupulous men using their power to coerce newcomers and up-and-coming starlets, as well as closing ranks to cover up any misdeeds that reach the ears of the police or media.

In the wake of the #MeToo campaign in other parts of the world, however, Japan's movie sector is under growing pressure to clean up its act.

The turning point in Hollywood was arguably the arrest in May 2018 of Harvey Weinstein, the influential movie producer and founder of the entertainment firm Miramax.

At least 80 women came forward to allege that Weinstein had used his position to sexually harass or assault them. Weinstein, now 70, was found guilty in February 2020 of two felonies and sentenced to 23 years in prison, with more charges filed in Los Angeles in 2021.
Claims against Japanese directors

It took a few years for the campaign to cross the Pacific, but an article appeared in the Shukan Bunshun magazine including claims made by several women that director Hideo Sakaki had coerced them into having sex with him in return for roles in his films, or during acting workshops.

Sakaki, the director of "Mitsugestu," which means "Honeymoon," issued an apology but disputed parts of the article.

Similar claims have emerged against Shion Sono, the director of a number of feature films, including "Cold Fish" and "Ai no Mukidashi," or "Love Exposure," while actor Houka Kinoshita has announced that he is taking a break from appearing on screen after two women accused him of demanding sex.

In a statement issued by his management company, Kinoshita said, "I cannot appear before you and continue with my entertainment work after what I have done, and I will be taking leave for an indefinite period."

JAPAN THROUGH THE EYES OF WOMEN PHOTOGRAPHERS
'Zaido'
Devastated by a series of tragic accidents, Yukari Chikura followed a dream in which her deceased father appeared, asking her to go to a remote village in Tohoku. There she took part in a 1,300-year-old festival called Zaido, capturing it with her camera. "Seeing people fight again and again to preserve heritage gave me the courage to live again," she said of the experience.
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In April, a new group called the Association to End Sexual Harassment and Sexual Assault in the Film and Moving Image Industry released a strongly worded statement demanding that all forms of abuse within the industry end. The association is made up of some of the most high-profile members of the domestic movie industry, including director Mipo O, actors Midori Suiren and Yumi Ishikawa and screenwriter Takehiko Minato.

The statement was given added impetus when Ishikawa claimed that director Sakaki demanded she have sex with him in return for a part in one of his films.

"We, as victims, emphatically state that there should be no more people damaged or suffering in silence," the association said.

Open letter calls out abuse

The open letter added that sexual violence in the industry is the result of the powerful "making use of status and power relations," with directors or producers "coercing an actor into having sexual intercourse on condition of casting." Those who are the targets of such approaches fear the consequences if they refuse, including losing their jobs and being ostracized and ruled out of more projects in the future.

"There are many people that have suffered damage but do not have the means to deal with it," the statement added. "They remain silent and endure the pain.

"At the root are the harsh working conditions of film and moving image production," the association said. "A poor working environment can be a hotbed for sexual violence and abuse."

Akemi Sugawara, a spokesperson for the Motion Picture Producers Association of Japan, said the organization was implementing measures to stop abuse in the industry.

"It goes without saying that the association is firmly opposed to any forms of violence and harassment, including sexual violence, which it considers to be unacceptable," she told DW.

"Based on this policy, the association is taking part in a campaign to ensure the appropriateness of activities on film production sites," she added.

"This initiative is being carried out in conjunction with the Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry with the aim of improving the environment at production sites through the introduction of guidelines, restrictions on working hours and other measures that we believe will prevent various types of harassment."

Minimal optimism for change

Others linked to the industry are less optimistic that real change is likely.

Kaori Shoji, long-time film critic for The Japan Times, says the problem remains worldwide but at least a spotlight is being placed on abuse in many parts of the world.

"Here in Japan, I hear women talking about it all the time," she said. "The film and media industry here is more old-fashioned and patriarchal than any other sector in Japan, and that's saying something.

"Other industries may have moved on, but the media here is controlled by men and too many of them are willing to abuse the powers they have over women," she said, adding that there are enough women who feel that the trade-off of a bigger part in a movie and improved career prospects for sex is acceptable.

"These women won't cry or make a fuss because they don't want to rock the boat," she said. "And that has not gone away. The industry may be airing its dirty laundry in public with these cases at the moment, but there are plenty more to come."

Edited by: Leah Carter

Bangladesh: 'Migrant-friendly' cities offer hope for climate refugees

The port city of Mongla acts as a model of what urban adaptation to climate change could look like. It also offers an alternative vision for countries facing climate-induced migration.

Over the coming years, Mongla aims to attract thousands of climate migrants 

displaced from nearby coastal regions

The Bangladeshi port city of Mongla, located along the coast of Bay of Bengal, is pioneering a new way for cities to adapt to the climate crisis.

With an 11-kilometer-long (6.8 miles) embankment, a new drainage system and water treatment plant, as well as loudspeakers to warn residents of incoming storms, the city has been steadily investing in infrastructure to make it more resilient in the face of rising sea levels and increasingly severe cyclonic storms.

Its most ambitious investment, however, is in people. Over the coming years, the city aims to attract thousands of climate migrants displaced from nearby coastal regions, in hopes that they would boost the economy and transform Mongla into a thriving industrial hub.

The plan, conceptualized by the research institute International Center for Climate Change and Development (ICCCAD), is part of a broader scheme to alleviate pressure on Dhaka by redirecting climate migrants away from the crowded capital, and instead towards smaller towns and cities. 

Working with mayors, locals and NGOs, ICCCAD is helping these new "migrant-friendly" cities to build capacity, so that they can collectively absorb around 10 million migrants over the coming years.

Millions of climate migrants 

Rural to urban migration is nothing new in Bangladesh, but climate change is projected to accelerate movement across the country. A World Bank report from 2018 predicted that over 13 million people in the South Asian country, or around 1 in 7, would be displaced by climate change by 2050.

"It's a trickle now, but it's going to get bigger and bigger over the coming years," said Professor Saleemul Huq, director at ICCCAD.

Mongla promises to provide sustainable employment to thousands of climate migrants

Historically, migrants have made their way to Dhaka. But the capital, one of the world's fastest growing megacities, is already overcrowded and poorly equipped to handle the country's growing migration crisis; around a third of people in the city already live in slums. 

"The possibility of another 10 million climate migrants arriving and living in the slums of Dhaka city is something that will be very, very difficult to manage," Huq pointed out.

While coastal adaptations such a salt-tolerant rice may help families to avoid migration in the short term, they cannot provide a sustainable solution to the threat of rising sea levels and increasingly erratic weather, the expert noted.

"What we are trying to do is to see whether there are other ways of anticipating this problem. And deal with it before it becomes a crisis."

A model of urban adaptation to climate change

ICCCAD has identified dozens of satellite cities with the ability to absorb around half a million migrants each, selected based on their proximity to economic hubs such as ports or export processing zones. 

While housing and schools are important in the long-term to ensure integration with the host population, "the number one draw for any migrant is economic," Huq said.

Mongla, the first city to adopt the ICCCAD recommendations, now acts as a model of what urban adaptation to climate change could look like. 

With its large export processing zone and growing economy, the city promises to provide sustainable employment to thousands of climate migrants.

Makul Begum is one of them, having arrived in the city with her husband and three children last year in search of employment. 

The small village where the family came from, an hour outside of Mongla, was flooded during Cyclone Aila in 2009, destroying their home and livelihood.

"The fish farm was flooded," the 30-year-old said. "The water was like a poison, all the fish died." With no source of income, the family was forced to take out a loan and sell jewelry in order to survive.

Mongla city in Bangladesh offers new hope to climate refugees by pioneering

 a new way to adapt to the climate crisis

'Positive approach' to migration

Since moving to Mongla, Begum has worked in the nearby export processing zone, sewing leather goods for 10,000 taka (€103, $106.69) per month. Foreign investment in the city's export processing zone from countries such as China has increased in recent years, creating thousands of new jobs. 

Infrastructure projects, such as a new railway line and river dredging to widen the channel for bigger ships, will also help to boost economic growth, said the city's mayor Sheikh Abdur Rahman.

"If these projects — especially the railway, bridge and river dredging — are completed, many factories will be created here and many migrants can find jobs," he underlined, adding that the city has already seen huge changes over the past decade.

"Ten years ago, there was nothing here. Now there are 10,000 workers in the export processing zone," he said.

Huq said Mongla is the first city to have implemented plans laid out by ICCCAD and he's confident that others will follow. 

The expert hopes that the city will offer an alternative vision of adaptation for countries around the world facing increasing climate-induced migration.

It gives migrants the choice of "when they want to go, where they want to go, and how they want to go. Instead of being forced to go, which is what is happening now," he said. "It is a way forward that takes a positive approach to the issue of migration."

Edited by: Srinivas Mazumdaru

Digging in the dirt: California mining firms seek to clean up lithium's production footprint

Three large mining projects based in California's "Lithium Valley" aim to recover lithium with minimal environmental impacts. They have the potential to simplify the global lithium supply chain.

California's rapidly shrinking lake is at the forefront of efforts to make the US 

a major global player in lithium production

About 200 miles (321 kilometers) east of Los Angeles lies the Salton Sea, California's largest lake by area. It was once a recreation destination and home to a highly productive fishery, but in recent decades the lake has begun to dry up. Now the region has become famous for its most valuable mineral resource — lithium.

Until a decade ago, lithium was mainly used for glass and ceramic production. Now, roughly 70% of lithium is used for batteries. As electric vehicles continue to gain popularity, global lithium demand is skyrocketing.

Last year, US President Joe Biden signed an executive order requiring half of all new cars sold in the United States in 2030 to be zero-emission electric vehicles (EVs). This was seen as a bold step toward reducing carbon emissions, but critics point out that the US isn't prepared to manufacture electric vehicles at that level. A critical limiting factor is that the US produces very little lithium domestically.

Similarly, the European Parliament approved a mandate that all new car sales need to be zero-emission EVs by 2035. But Europe also depends heavily on imports to meet its lithium demand.

Access to a steady supply of lithium is pivotal for the US's and Europe's e-mobility transition, which is why the Salton Sea's mineral resources have suddenly gained attention.

Hollywood's jetset once crowded the shores of Salton Sea. Today, lithium

 is rekindling the hopes of the communities

Top lithium brine deposit

As the edges of the Salton Sea recede, pools of salty, lithium-rich brine are left below ground. In this way the death of the Salton Sea, which is being caused partly by drought conditions worsened by climate change, is becoming part of the solution for mitigating climate change.

Michael McKibben, a geochemist and research professor at University of California Riverside, leads a study analyzing lithium resources in the area.

"I've taken both a conservative approach and an optimistic approach to estimating the amount of lithium," McKibben told DW. "It's somewhere between 1 and 6 million metric tons of dissolved lithium metal in the brines." (Or a lithium carbonate equivalent of 5 to 32 million metric tons.)

According to McKibben, that makes this area one of the top lithium brine deposits in the world.

Three companies are racing to tap into this immense lithium resource. If their projects succeed, they will establish a method for extracting lithium without the negative impacts of conventional lithium mining.

The three companies involved are Energy Source Minerals, Berkshire Hathaway Energy (BHE), and Controlled Thermal Resources (CTR). Energy Source Minerals appears to be the closest to their goal. They aim to collect battery-grade lithium at commercial scale by 2024. Berkshire Hathaway Energy has set 2026 as a goal for beginning commercial production. Controlled Thermal Resources has gained investment backing from General Motors.

With its drilling rig in Calipatria and other renewable energy projects, 

CTR has gained a headstart in green lithium mining

Don't call it mining

What sets these projects apart from conventional lithium mining is their connection to geothermal power plants, 11 of which are already established in the area. Geothermal plants pump up hot brine from underground and use the steam to generate electricity before re-injecting the brine back into the ground. Now they will add one more step — removing lithium from the brine before it's re-injected.

"It's important not to call it mining," said McKibben, who prefers the term "lithium recovery," because compared with conventional lithium mining, this process has minimal environmental impacts.

Conventionally, lithium is extracted in the form of hard rock, or from salts collected in solar ponds.

Hard rock lithium mining involves digging vast, open pits to pull out rocks like spodumene, which then need to be roasted and dissolved in acid. It's a fossil fuel-intensive process, and has a devastating impact on the local environment. The vast majority of hard rock mines are in Australia, and to a lesser extent, China and Africa.

Salar pond mining involves pumping brine to the surface and leaving it in shallow pools. After the water evaporates, lithium-rich mineral salts remain. Salar ponds, also called salt evaporation ponds, take up thousands of square kilometers and deplete groundwater reserves, especially in desert regions where local populations depend on them. This method is most prevalent in Argentina, Chile and Bolivia.

Compared with salar ponds or hard rock mine pits, a geothermal power plant is relatively small, so direct lithium recovery projects require much less land use. The process avoids both the destruction and waste created by hard rock mining. It has a much smaller effect on groundwater sources than solar pond mining, because brine is re-injected into the ground after its use.

On-site battery production could simplify EV supply chain

In addition to lithium production, there are plans to build battery production factories nearby, which could change the EV battery supply chain on a global scale.

Today the vast majority of lithium is shipped to China to be refined. Refined lithium is then shipped to Japan for cathode production, and cathodes are shipped to the US for battery production.

By manufacturing batteries on-site, the carbon emissions from shipping lithium around the world are cut. Additionally, the US gains the strategic advantage of controlling part of the lithium supply chain, which could be of vital importance if conflicts between China and the US were to trigger sanctions.

Proponents of the project say that battery manufacturing plants would create thousands of jobs in a county that currently has an unemployment rate which is three times higher than the US average. Also, these projects will amount to significant income for the state of California, due to a recently approved tax on lithium production.

The beginnings of a clean lithium revolution?

Internationally, other projects are developing similar processes for use in other regions. Lake Resources is developing a project in Puna, Argentina, and Vulcan Energy Resources is working to bring the process to its geothermal power plants in Germany.

"We are very familiar with the developments in California," said Horst Kreuter, CEO and founder of Vulcan Energy Resources. "Our technical director for lithium extraction was involved in lithium extraction in California in a leading role for over six years" he told DW.

Vulcan Energy aims to begin commercial production of lithium in Germany by 2024-2025.

If these projects prove successful, a path to cleaner lithium production may be just around the corner.

Edited by: Uwe Hessler

Haiti: How criminal gangs have taken control

Emboldened by politicians for years, Haitian gangs have equipped themselves with sophisticated weapons and control most of the country's capital Port-au Prince.


Haiti's gangs have thrived on the economic and political corruption,
and have been empowered by the elites.

A recent upsurge in gang warfare has claimed hundreds of Haitian lives and displaced thousands in the capital Port-au-Prince and the surrounding area, as the country plunges into lawlessness.

The heavy turf war has been raging for months now, but it has become more intense and widespread in the past few weeks, paralyzing most of the country.


In the past weeks, clashes between the gangs spread into the main avenues of the capital, near the presidential palace.

The clashes have occurred more prominently in the Cite Soleil neighborhood in the capital, home to about 300,000 people and one of the country's biggest slums, where gangs have gained more influence over the past several years. There, the gang members have been destroying slum homes with bulldozers to expand their territory, as well as raping women and girls, and killing ordinary citizens at random. Outgunned by the gangs, the army seems unable to exert control and contain the violence.
How gangs undermine the government's control

For years, Haiti's political elites used gangs to achieve their own objectives, silence dissent, and confront their rivals.

Although criminal organizations' intervention in politics is not unique to Haiti, it has reached unprecedented levels in the poor Caribbean nation, especially so following the assassination of President Jovenel Moise in July 2021.

Devastated by violence, lack of food, and fuel, Haitians have marched the
streets several times in the past months.

Powerful business families in Haiti have been paying gangs to sustain the security of their trade for them. This is how some of the bigger groups like G9 have gained control over the capital's port and managed to smuggle weapons of war for themselves, some of which are more advanced than the guns that the Haitian armed forces use.

In July, a string of arms-trafficking scandals in Haiti, including the discovery of weapons in a shipping container labeled as church donations, prompted the UN Security Council to push for international cooperation to stop the flow guns from the United States into Haiti.

In the past few weeks, the G9 have blocked the port, where most of the imported goods enter the country, exacerbating the food and fuel crisis.
Gangs instead of an army

A lack of a well-funded army has created a power void that Haiti's major gangs are competing to fill in. Haiti dismantled its army in 1995 following a coup in 1991, after decades of military interference in politics and mutiny.

Since then, Haitian politicians, most notably former President Jean-Bertrand Aristide who came to power in 2001, have increasingly resorted to gangs as a more reliable and obedient source of power to suppress rebellions.



Haiti's armed forces are outgunned and outnumbered by criminal gangs.

The slain president, Jovenel Moise, tried to remobilize the army in 2017, but he never managed to round up enough soldiers and resources to match the gangs' growing gun and manpower.

The exact number of gang members is hard to come by, but according to the National Human Rights Defense Network, there are more than 90 gangs in the country.
The country is plummeting into disaster

Once one of the wealthiest French colonies, the nation of 11 million people suffers from an unproductive economy, with about two-thirds of its GDP coming from the money those Haitian migrants send home and international aid, according to World Bank data. The government tax revenue, the primary source of funding for a national army stands as low as 5.6% of its relatively small GDP.



Haiti's local production has almost stopped for a few years now, with the
country importing most of its needs from outside.

About 60% of the population lives in poverty, with nearly half the population in immediate need of food assistance and 1.2 million suffering from extreme hunger, according to the UN World Food Program.

The spread of gang violence has made things worse.

Between 2016 and 2020 gang violence cost the country $4.2 billion (€4.1 billion) per year, or 30% of its GDP, Bloomberg reported in September 2021. The resulting chaos has also discouraged foreign investment, blocked trade routes, and disrupted the remains of the local economy, driving up inflation rates and food and fuel prices.


The turf war has seen schools and universities closed and the grim economic
prospect boosts the gangs' influence.

A UN report quoted a survey by two local youth-focused organizations which found that 13% of the children in one troubled neighborhood in Port-au-Prince had been in contact with members of armed gangs who tried to recruit them.

Without immediate, sizable intervention that can stop the vicious cycle of violence, chaos and poverty, Haitian youth would have few options rather than joining the gangs to survive.

Edited by: Rob Mudge