Delivery drivers working to death amid online shopping boom in S. Korea

Stress and physical strain also has led to 16 deaths so far this year from overwork, 

known as gwarosa in Korea

"We need to work to live. It's ironic that people are dying from it."

By Thomas Maresca

Kim Do-gyun is one of the more than 50,000 delivery drivers working grueling hours as shipments skyrocket during the COVID-19 pandemic. Photo by Thomas Maresca/UPI

SEOUL, Dec. 24 (UPI) -- While the COVID-19 pandemic has taken an economic toll on many industries, online shopping and delivery services have thrived in this year of shuttered storefronts and social distancing.

In South Korea, however, the delivery drivers at the heart of the pandemic economy say that the boom has left them working brutal hours, with an alarming number of injuries and even deaths on the job.

"This year has been very tough," delivery worker Kim Do-gyun, 48, said as he made deliveries on his route northeast of Seoul on Christmas Eve. "There's no other sector where so many workers have died. It's a serious systematic problem."

Couriers have been logging an average of over 71 hours per week during the COVID-19 era, according to a September survey by the Center for Workers' Health and Safety -- an increase of 30% over pre-virus days.

Stress and physical strain also has led to 16 deaths so far this year from overwork, known as gwarosa in Korean, a union for the drivers says.

The most recent death came this week, when a 34-year-old delivery worker in the city of Suwon was found dead Wednesday at his home. The worker, identified as Mr. Park by the union, had routinely worked from 6 a.m. until 9 p.m. and had lost more than 40 pounds since July, according to family members.

Long days such as these have become the norm for the more than 50,000 delivery workers in South Korea such as Kim, who has been a driver for six years.

Kim said he wakes up at 5:30 a.m. to get to the distribution has center where he starts his day before 7 a.m. There, like most couriers, he spends the next several hours sorting his packages as they come tumbling down a conveyor belt -- work that is unpaid, as drivers only receive a commission for each parcel they deliver.

He usually finishes sorting between 1:30 and 2 p.m. before finally beginning his deliveries, which he wraps up each night at 9 or 10 p.m. Kim carries out the routine six days a week, often skipping meals and subsisting on snacks in the cab of his truck.

Profits have soared for South Korea's delivery giants, such as CJ Logistics, Hanshin Shipping and Lotte Global Logistics, on the back of shipments that have grown more than 20% this year, but the benefits have not been trickling down to the drivers.

Only a tiny fraction of the couriers work for the major shipping companies directly; the rest are contract laborers for agencies that act as intermediaries. As such, they remain in a legal limbo without worker protections such as a 52-hour maximum workweek introduced by President Moon Jae-in in 2018.

"The reason why they are working under conditions like this is because the companies do not hire them directly -- they are classified as special workers and do not fall under the Labor Standards Act," said Kang Min-wook, head of training and publicity for the National Association of Delivery Drivers, the union that supports the couriers.

"The companies don't pay them hourly, and they are not protected by the law. So the [courier] companies are making more money, but the workers are not seeing the same benefits," he said.

Delivery drivers are paid by the parcel, a commission that has been squeezed this year by competition between the big courier companies, Kang said. It currently stands at around 65 cents per package.

The couriers have seen their sheer volume of packages delivered rise dramatically this year, according to the September survey. Before the pandemic, an average daily total of deliveries for a driver was 247. This year, it's been 313. On Christmas Eve, Kim had 352 parcels to deliver.

However, drivers face a host of expenses that eat into their earnings. They must supply and maintain their own delivery trucks, as well as pay for everything from packing tape to waybills to the specialized delivery app they use. The couriers also don't receive any paid time off, and most are not covered by accident insurance.

As South Korea dipped into a recession in the first half of the year due to the pandemic and is currently trying to recover from a third wave of the virus, gig workers such as couriers find themselves without many alternatives for employment.

"Most delivery workers used to work in another sector, but now we have nowhere else to go," Kim said. "We're at the end of the road."

Protests, strikes and news coverage has heightened awareness of the plight of the delivery drivers, and the public has responded with social media campaigns and gestures such as leaving thank-you notes and snacks for the couriers.

The government has also begun taking steps to improve the situation, passing legislation earlier this month that will offer unemployment benefits and accident insurance to gig workers beginning later in 2021.

This week, the Ministry of Employment and Labor announced that it would set up a dedicated department for gig workers and more closely regulate delivery companies.

"Currently, anyone can establish a delivery service without restrictions, which limits the protection of delivery workers," Employment and Labor Minister Lee Jae-kap said during a press briefing Monday.

The shipping companies have announced a series of changes, including adopting flexible hours and adding manpower. CJ Logistics, the largest firm in the industry with some 21,000 workers, announced in October it would hire 4,000 more employees to help sort packages.

Kim, however, said he hasn't seen any difference yet in his daily routine.

"The companies have announced the solutions and they say they will take place, but I question whether they'll really happen," said Kim, who is active in the driver's labor union.

"I don't have any hope that things will change unless we fight," he said. "Because if we don't fight against this, nothing will change. Nothing will improve."

In the meantime, Kim said he fully expects there to be more injuries and more cases of gwarosa in the days and weeks ahead.

"I believe there will be more deaths," he said. 

"We need to work to live. It's ironic that people are dying from it."

Seo Jieun contributed

Politico | Remembering Li Wenliang: the Wuhan doctor who warned the world about coronavirus


In China, Li’s passing triggered public outrage over the government’s suppression of vital information in the early days of the pandemic

Months after his death, Li is being remembered for what he was like for most of his life: not a global hero, but a lover of fried chicken and TV dramas


POLITICO
Published:  27 Dec, 2020

Dr Li Wenliang died of coronavirus in February at age 34. Photo: Weibo


This story is published in a content partnership with POLITICO. It was originally reported by Audrey Jiajia Li on politico.eu on December 26, 2020.

Dr Li Wenliang was an active user of Weibo, China’s Twitter-like social media platform, over the past 10 years. He posted his last words on February 1: “Today the nucleic acid test result turns positive,” he wrote of the test that confirmed he had Covid-19. “The dust has settled, and the diagnosis is finally confirmed.” He died less than a week later, at the age of 34.

An ophthalmologist, Li had sought to warn his colleagues at a hospital in Wuhan – the city that was ground zero for the coronavirus outbreak – of the then-unknown disease. In response, the police reprimanded Li for spreading “rumours” about something so real it eventually took his life. In the days and weeks that followed, across China and the world, Li came to be regarded as a courageous whistle-blower and a martyr for freedom of expression.


In China, his passing triggered an unusual level of public outrage over the government’s suppression of vital information in the early days of the pandemic. In a certain way, the outpouring has borne fruit, as over the past 10 months Chinese authorities have become more transparent about the pandemic. The government now releases daily reports about confirmed or suspected Covid-19 cases. Testing has been widely available. And doctors’ and scientists’ professional expertise is treated with well-deserved respect. Compared with the warlike situation at the beginning of the year, most people’s lives are now mostly back to normal.

But that does not mean people have forgotten the important role Li played in drawing attention to the deadly virus. More than 10 months after his death, his presence is still very much alive. As of early December, there were more than 1 million comments under his last Weibo post; only posts by China’s most popular superstars have harvested more responses. Yet the sentiments that drive people to pay homage to him have evolved.

Health workers must have permission to speak freely if China is to learn and move forward after the pandemic
2 Sep 2020


Early on, Weibo users went to Li’s page to express sorry and sympathy. But more recently, they have expressed thanks. “This coming Chinese New Year I will be able to go back home to Wuhan and reunite with my family. Dr Li, thank you,” a Weibo user commented. Others simply go to his Weibo page to talk to him – about everything from who they have a crush on to how their day went to what their wishes are for the next year

After reading his thousands of previous Weibo posts and learning more about the warm and kind soul he was, hundreds of thousands of strangers now regard him as a friend or a peer, even if they’ve never met him. Months after his death, Li is being remembered for what he was like for most of his life: not a global hero, but a lover of fried chicken and soapy TV dramas, just like most Chinese millennials

It is said that in ancient times people would go into the woods to find a “tree hole.” They would tell their secrets to the tree hollow and then fill it with mud so the secrets would be sealed forever. Li’s Weibo account has become, in a sense, a modern-day tree hole – a place for people to share and confide. (Most people on Weibo do not use their real names.)

Coronavirus: can China recover from diplomacy missteps made during the pandemic?
19 Dec 2020

The only time Weibo has seen anything like this kind of very public yet very personal outpouring was eight years ago, after a young Chinese woman suffering from depression died by suicide and left her last words on Weibo. Netizens who also struggled with depression flooded to her page to share their frustration and desperation.

Most people visit Li’s page seeking strength. “Wenliang, please allow me to call you that. I feel so powerless when it comes to life and work, and I always want to change. I think you had those moments too. Next spring, I will leave this city, I’m 40 already, but still am able to gather courage. I should follow my heart, would you agree?” one user posted.

His Weibo has attracted a range of life stories – happy and unhappy, confused and determined – as people grieve, vent, make wishes and seek solace. People also read each other’s stories and encourage one another. If the vibe was mostly sorrow 10 months ago, optimism has gradually found its way back – with a young doctor from Wuhan, perhaps improbably, ushering it in, and helping a nation to cope.

As one commenter said, “2020 was hard for me, but I managed to endure. Although there will be other difficulties ahead, I believe things will get better and better.”

CRIME AGAINST HUMANITY
COVID vaccines: Prisoners excluded from US plans

Outbreaks of the coronavirus in prisons and jails in the United States have been widespread, but inmates have been neglected as policymakers determine who should be prioritized for vaccinations.



Prisoners face a high risk of getting COVID-19 in US facilities


Inmates of US prisons and jails have largely been left behind as the country rolls out its first set of COVID-19 vaccines. Public health experts and advocates have been pushing for states and the federal government to make this vulnerable population a priority.

More than 1.3 million people are incarcerated in the United States. Onetracking project reported more than 270,000 cases and more than 1,700 deaths in the prison system since April. Inmates are twice as likely to die from the coronavirus as the general population, and 19 of the top 20 hotspots in the US are inside prisons, according to the National Commission on COVID-19 and Criminal Justice. Poor living conditions and overpopulation have exacerbated the problem.

"They have been the source of so many cases because they are a confined population, because they can't do social separation," Dr. William Schaffner, professor of preventive medicine and health policy at Vanderbilt University, told DW. "They are a high-risk circumstance."

Health experts warn that the consequences could be disastrous if nothing is done to mitigate infections among the incarcerated. The American Medical Association had recommended inmates and correctional workers "should be prioritized in receiving access" to the vaccines in the first phase of inoculations.


Conditions in prisons make preventing the spread of the virus especially difficult

Still, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) advisory committee in mid-December did not recommend prisoners be included in the initial phase. The federal government has largely left state governments on their own to determine how to distribute the vaccines.

"The federal government has mismanaged this process, specifically developing logistics," said Ryan King, director of research and policy at the Justice Policy Institute. "This was avoidable ... there's been a lack of real federal leadership."
Public backlash

A handful of states have added prisoners and staff to the first tier of candidates, but most have not designated them as a priority.

In Colorado health officials had recommended prisoners be part of the second tier of vaccine recipients. That prompted a backlash driven by state Republicans and conservative media. Colorado Governor Jared Polis changed course in early December, saying "there's no way prisoners are going to get it before members of a vulnerable population."

Civil rights advocates are concerned that as the numbers of COVID-19 cases continue to grow, more politicians will cave to public pressure because vaccines and resources are limited.

"Science should dictate this, not politics," says Denise Maes, director of public policy at the ACLU of Colorado. "Science tells us that we do need to start vaccinations in the prisons."
Dangerous jails

Jails, too, are especially risky. They hold suspects for short periods of time — sometimes only for hours — before sending them back into their communities, possibly exposed to infected people.

"Jail settings are heightened because of the degree of people coming in and out," said King. "They are coming from the highest risk environments."

Correctional staff and prison inmates are also constantly being moved to balance out the population size, and in the process, making contact with people outside prison walls. State prisons throughout the country are not taking the necessary measures to protect the public, prisoners or staff, according to DeAnna Hoskins, president and CEO of JustLeadership USA, an organization focused on cutting the prison population.

"They transfer prisoners from facility to facility. They are not testing them," she said. "This is a super-spreader situation."


A court ordered California to reduce the population at San Quentin after a coronavirus outbreak

After a major coronavirus outbreak in San Francisco's San Quentin Prison in late May, the US Appeals Court ordered the facility to cut its population to 1,700 people, or by one half.

Some states have decided to thin out their prison populations in the hopes of creating more space to allow for social distancing. Officials have been releasing prisoners who are either near the end of their sentence or don't pose a threat to the community. In New Jersey, Governor Phil Murphy freed more than 2,000 inmates in November to reduce the spread of the coronavirus there.
Stuck in cells

Prisons are facing another ethical dilemma as coronavirus deaths multiply and they impose lockdowns to limit interaction between inmates and staff. Civil rights advocates say that isolating people for long stretches punishes them for something that is not their fault and essentially creates a prison within a prison.

"They are stuck in their cells, and that creates a serious situation," says Maes. "They don't get visitations, outdoor activities or cafeteria time and that cannot be sustained."

Hoskins said prisoners are afraid. They are getting sick and worried they're going to die. It's "like a burning building" that they are stuck inside without any help, she said.

The vaccines could relieve those problems, if prisoners could get them. Advocates say that the handling of the virus in the correctional system is adding stress and unnecessary burdens to inmates' lives and infringing on their rights as human beings.

"You are sentenced to prison, not to die," King said.

SPORTS
Hooligans in 2020: How 'militant neo-Nazis' have spearheaded coronavirus protests

At anti-lockdown protests, hooligans have provided the muscle to break through police lines. They may have their roots in football, but they're now more likely to be found practicing combat sports than on the terraces.



With football matches in Germany taking place behind closed doors since March, many football supporters have found different ways to spend their time. Some have launched initiatives to support vulnerable members of their communities; others have helped develop concepts for financial reform.

But one element has found an alternative pastime, with football hooligans latching on to the "Querdenker" – the so-called lateral-thinkers — who protest government measures to combat the spread of the coronavirus. When a Querdenker demonstration spiraled out of control in Leipzig on November 7, football hooligans were at the forefront.

After police had officially ended the demonstration because attendees failed to maintain social distancing or wear face coverings, hooligans fought police using weapons, pepper spray, pyrotechnics and their fists. The police gave way, and the demonstrators were free to march around the ring road that encircles Leipzig's city center.

It wasn't the first time that football hooligans have acted as the catalyst for politically motivated violence in recent years. In Chemnitz in 2018, far-right hooligans led violent protests following a fatal stabbing in the city. And ahead of the next planned Querdenker event in Dresden in December, images circulated on extreme-right social media channels calling on "Hooligans, Nationalists and Ultras" to gather in the Saxony state capital.
'Militant neo-Nazis'

The Dresden event was ultimately forbidden by the authorities, but who exactly are the hooligans and what have they got to do with measures to slow the spread of the coronavirus?




A call for far-right hooligans to attend a Querdenken event shows suspected members of Leipzig's neo-Nazi hooligan scene at the protest there on November 7

"These hooligans are militant neo-Nazis who provide the muscle for these marches," said Robert Claus, a researcher and author who specializes in right-wing extremism, and who witnessed the events in Leipzig firsthand. "They don't write the speeches, they don't man the info stands: They're there to help the demonstrators break through the police lines."

Claus estimates that as many as 400 hooligans were present in Leipzig, many wearing insignia linking them to various German football clubs. But, more important than their alleged footballing allegiances, according to Claus, are the combat-sports gyms in which the hooligans train.

"When we talk about 'hooligans,' people often think we're talking about football fans, but I don't think that is so important here," Claus said. "What we're talking about is a very specific crossover between militant neo-Nazis and the hooligan scene.

"People take part in combat sports for all sorts of reasons: sport, weight loss, letting off aggression, fitness. But, for militant neo-Nazis, it's about training for political violence and street battles. That is what we saw in Leipzig: several hundred well-organized, well-trained experienced fighters."


Protesters on Leipzig's Augustusplatz

From the terraces to the ring

Among the hooligans present in Leipzig, for instance, were suspected members of the Imperium Fight Team, a mixed martial arts (MMA) team and gym that acts as a networking point for the Leipzig neo-Nazi scene. IFT members are accused of being involved in a neo-Nazi attack on the left-wing alternative Leipzig suburb of Connewitz in 2016, and one member is accused of a racially motivated assault on a bouncer outside a Mallorca nightclub in 2019.

"There is a well-established fascist combat sports scene in Germany and Europe, with its own events and fashion labels," a spokesperson for Runter von der Matte (Down off the Mat, or RvdM), an initiative that seeks to raise awareness of the issue of far-right extremism in combat sports, said in a statement to DW.

"For years now, neo-Nazis have been organizing in professional structures and holding their own combat sport events at which they can recruit people to their cause," according to the statement.

According to RvdM, it is more important than ever that gyms, sports clubs and federations take a clear stance when it comes to racism and fascism.

"Combat sports take place in a social arena in which young people develop their values," according to RvdM. "The federations therefore have a responsibility to explain why racism and other inhuman ideologies have no place in the ring, and to take an active part in the discussion."

The German Mixed Martial Arts Federation, which regulates the sport, distances itself from extremism and discrimination and insists that extremists make up only a small fraction of those who practice the sport.

The federation works with the Vollkontakt: Demokratie und Kampfsport(Full Contact: Democracy and Combat Sports) project to identify and battle the development of extremist ideologies in the sport, and bars athletes who have expressed extremist views from its events. But it nevertheless recognizes that combat sports hold a certain attraction for right-wing extremists.

"We are, of course, appalled that there are people who misuse martial arts, but the abuse of martial arts and the values associated with them can unfortunately not always be completely ruled out," a spokesperson said in a statement to DW.

"The use of violence is a fundamental element of extremist world views and martial arts and their use outside of sport are therefore of interest to such people," according to the statement.
Neo-Nazis and Querdenker

Though the attraction of combat sports for militant Neo-Nazi hooligans may be clear, it is less apparent for some of the other participants in Querdenker protests. However, the researcher Claus said, there may be a greater overlap than first meets the eye.

"Right-wing extremists dream of the collapse of liberal democracy," he said. "However, they know that they can't achieve that on their own, so they latch on to movements that share their social Darwinist ideology. They try to further radicalize those movements and encourage social conflict in order to bring about a situation in which the state is no longer able to protect minorities."

That, essentially, is what happened in Leipzig in November. The police were criticized for retreating in the face of the hooligans. Should the authorities have been better prepared?

"Hooligans have been taking part in these protests since August, and it was predictable from social media that they would be coming together again in Leipzig," Claus said. "You could see them from early in the day, and you could identify them. But the police didn't take any strategic measures to kettle them."

Officers faced off against protesters in Leipzig

Paradox for police

The authorities face a difficult balancing act. They are dealing with a movement that takes advantage of basic civil rights such as freedom of assembly and expression in order to attack the very system that guarantees those rights, accusing it of taking them away.

"These demonstrations represent a new type of gathering, which poses new challenges," said Jörg Radek, the acting chairman of the GdP police union, in a recent interview with the German media industry magazine Journalist.

"The police could probably have prevented the breakthrough in Leipzig had they formed three lines, but what sort of image would that have produced, on the very spot where people revolted against a dictatorship 31 years ago?" Radek said. "Those images would have been used to portray the police as bailiffs of a health dictatorship."

Radek did add, however, that the police are "capable of learning" — and so it seemed when the next Querdenker demonstration in Dresden on December 12 was officially prohibited.

Police nevertheless made 72 arrests and issued more than 160 orders to leave the city, and almost 300 people have been charged with summary offenses. Among them are known football hooligans who attempted to travel to Dresden by train.

Militant neo-Nazis may have their roots in football hooliganism, but their activities are no longer limited to the terraces. They can now be found in combat sports studios, training professionally for violent political conflict, and spearheading political protests on the streets.

VIDEO How far-right hooligans hijack MMA

Sextortion in Syria: Young women support each other

The sexual exploitation of women in Syria is nothing new — but it has increased as predators take advantage of social media and the ongoing conflict to pursue their victims. A number of initiatives are fighting back.




Several initiatives are providing support for victims of sexual exploitation

Like most girls her age, 19-year-old Nour* was blinded by love for her boyfriend. For six months, Nour felt she was living a fairy tale until he asked her for nude pictures.

"In the beginning I refused. But after multiple requests and promises that he will never betray my trust, I gave in and sent him a couple of pictures," she says.

Soon afterwards he started asking for more. "This time it wasn't just pictures. When I made it clear that I will never accept this, he started threatening to send the pictures to my family. If my family discovers I sent such pictures, they will disown me," she says.
Taboos prevalent in Syrian society

In Syria, premarital sex or any acts of that sort are a source of disgrace and shame, especially for women.

Nour didn't know what to do until a friend of hers told her about the Gardenia** initiative in late 2019.

Syrian doctor Zainab AlAassi established Gardenia in 2017 as an initiative to empower women by raising awareness about women-related issues. In 2019, Gardenia launched the "It Is Your Right" campaign to encourage young women who have been subjected to sexual exploitation and harassment to break their silence.

Alassi says messages from a sextortion victim prompted her to start the Gardenia campaign.

To date, 1,100 Syrian women have come forward with their stories, the campaign says. All these cases had one thing in common: "Fear," says Dr AlAassi. "Fear of parents; fear of society." This is one of the biggest challenges for our campaign too," she adds.
Support and advice for victims

The campaign tries to help sextortion victims at both the legal and socio-psychological levels and collaborates with a number of lawyers to provide free-of-charge legal consultations.

"We helped around 90% of the cases to file a lawsuit. In most cases, the defendant backs down once he knows that an official complaint has been filed with the police," AlAassi says.

According to Syrian criminal law, extortion is punishable by up to two years in prison in addition to a fine. This penalty is doubled if the crime is carried out online, according to laws regulating online communication and countering cyber crimes. Moreover, online material violating privacy is punishable by a prison term ranging from one to six months, in addition to a fine between 100,000-500,000 Syrian liras (€65 – €325,50).

After getting legal advice through the campaign, Nour confronted her ex-boyfriend and told him she would take him to court if he carried out his threat. "Once he knew I was serious about filing a lawsuit, he stopped and disappeared from my life," she says.
Mental scars remain

But the mental and emotional effect of the experience does not just disappear. Therefore, Gardenia's campaign continues to work with these survivors through sessions given by a network of volunteer psychologists and therapists to help these women go back to their normal life.

Gardenia is not the only non-government initiative in Damascus that is helping sextortion victims from different parts of Syria.

Bara Altrn, a lawyer, also offers legal advice to women who've been subject to sexual threats online.

"It all started with a posting about legal provisions that protect women against sextortion on social media two years ago after observing several cases of sextortion happening to people around me," she says.

Afterwards, women started to approach her asking for help and that's when she started offering legal consultations for sextortion victims for free, she says.

Damascus' old court complex in Al-Hamidiyah, where special courts for electronic crimes look into sextortion lawsuits.

Altrn doesn't keep count of the women she helps but says there are many. "I have filed three lawsuits myself on behalf of the victims. There are others whom I know that have referred the issue to court after consulting me, but I wasn't their lawyer," she says. "Interestingly, once the case goes to court, the defendant backs down and tries to reach a solution outside court."

Altrn agrees that fear of their parents' reaction is the main concern for all the young victims who contact her.

She recalls an incident when a university student in Homs Province took her own life a few months ago after being threatened by her boyfriend to publish nude pictures of her.

"Unfortunately, Syrian society blames the victim of sextortion. They believe she is the one who agreed to share these pictures and, hence, she deserves what happens to her," Altrn says.
Social media, COVID-19 exacerbate the situation

Sexual harassment and sextortion are not new to Syrian society. But the spread of social media and 10 years of conflict have made it easier for harassers to target their victims for sex, money or both.

COVID-19 has also made things worse, forcing people to stay home and, hence, spend more time online, which has led to an increase in such cases on social media.

Sham Alsahhar says through their campaign they've been able to shut down a number of Facebook accounts that target women.

Twenty-year-old Sham Alsahhar faced online sexual harassment several times, which prompted her and three of her female friends to launch the "No to Electronic Sexual Harassment" group in September.

The group's main goal is to shut down Facebook accounts that are harassing women. The group does this by asking its members to report these accounts.

"We came across many cases, in which the Facebook accounts of young women were hacked and private pictures of them were posted online," Alsahhar says. "We try to close these accounts as soon as possible before the pictures circulate widely."

She points out that taking legal action against the harasser takes time and "by the time a lawsuit is filed, the pictures will be all over social media and the damage will be already done."

So far, the group, which currently has 2,400 members, has successfully closed dozens of Facebook accounts, Alsahhar says. "We also seek to involve young men in the solution. Therefore, our group is open to both men and women and we encourage female members to add male friends and family members to the group."

*Name changed to protect her identity.

**Gardenia and the other initiatives mentioned here are completely independent from the government, which neither supports nor opposes them given their non-political nature.

This article was written in collaboration with the media network Egab. 

VIDEO Sextortion in Syria: Young women support each other | Middle East| News and analysis of events in the Arab world | DW | 26.12.2020

Iraq: Rebuilding Mosul for the future

The Iraqi city of Mosul was captured by the Islamic State group in 2014. 

Much of its cultural heritage was destroyed during the occupation. 

Three year's after Mosul's liberation, the city is now being rebuilt.

Locals hope rebuilding the city's cultural artifacts will foster a new solidarity

In the summer of 2014, the Islamic State group (IS) conquered Iraq's second largest city of Mosul. It was here in June that same year that the organization's then-leader, Abu Bakr al-Baghadi, proclaimed an Islamic Caliphate.

In late 2016, Iraqi, US, Kurdish Peshmerga and other ground forces — backed by an international anti-IS air force — launched a campaign to retake the northern Iraqi city. After nine months of fierce fighting, the coalition succeeded in driving IS forces from the heavily fortified city. In July 2017, Iraq's then-prime minister, Haider al-Abadi, was able to declare Mosul's liberation.

The people of Mosul suffered greatly during the brutal IS reign. Hundreds of young men who refused to join the militant group were executed. Locals were used as human shields during the campaign to retake the city. According to the UN, over 5,000 families were abducted for this purpose.
IS sought to wipe out Mosul's cultural heritage

During the occupation, IS destroyed shrines, church statues and tombs, and ripped crosses from Church roofs. The militants also tore down bell towers and altar domes.

IS set churches ablaze, and blew up Shiite mosques and Sufi shrines. The extremists even set out to erase vestiges of Mosul's ancient past. What little that was spared was later destroyed in the battle to retake the city.

The Grand al-Nuri Mosque was one of the many historic sites destroyed in Mosul

The extremists wanted to erase northern Iraq's cultural legacy, archaeologist Richard R. Zettler of the University of Pennsylvaniatold DW. He is in charge of the Iraq Heritage Stabilization Program, which brings together the Iraqi government and various civil society groups in an effort to rebuild Mosul's historic architecture. The initiative is supported by Germany's Gerda Henkel Foundation.

"The people of Mosul and the surrounding towns feel a strong connection to their region's heritage," says Zettler. Nineveh, the most important city of the Assyrian empire, was located where Mosul is situated today. "Mosul residents are very proud to be descents of the Assyrian kings, who ruled over much of the Middle East in the first millennium before Christ," says Zettler. "IS did everything it could to wipe out whatever traces of this ancient past were still visible in the region."

IS also persecuted ethnic and religious minorities, thereby aggravating tensions among different social groups within Mosul, says political scientist Irene Costantini, who teaches at Bologna University. With support from the Gerda Henkel Foundation, Costantini is researching what rebuilding Mosul means from a sociological and political perspective.

She says different minorities in Mosul formed armed groups in response to IS' reign of terror. "Instead of contributing to a greater sense of security, locals perceived this as a further source of insecurity," the researcher says.

The Iraq Heritage Stabilization Program aims to rebuild Mosul's historic architecture

Transitional justice and a program of national reconciliation are now needed to restore trust within Iraqi society, says Constantini. But, she adds, "these are long term processes that depend on the continued support of local and national political decision-makers."

Rebuilding and repairing cultural heritage sites will play an important role in this context. Doing so will help restore locals' sense of identity. There is also hope that joining forces to rebuild what was wiped out can also help bring different societal groups together and forge a shared consciousness of the pain endured under IS rule. This is a key condition for coming together and, hopefully, fostering a new, shared identity.
Restoration efforts no longer a political priority

Many of the region's historic edifices can be rebuilt, says Zettler. "It is possible to restore or rebuild Mosul's mosques, churches, shrines, historic houses, gates and city walls." But the archaeologist says that rebuilding churches in Mosul's old city center will have symbolic significance only. "Only very few Christians driven from the city will return."

Costantini says that efforts to rebuild and restore cultural sites are no longer at the top of the country's political agenda. The researcher says undoing damage wrought by IS in the entire area once under its control would cost an estimated $88 billion (€73 billion) — much more money than currently pledged by authorities.

As Iraq faces an ongoing governmental and economic crisis — not to mention the coronavirus pandemic — restoring its cultural heritage is no longer a top priority, says Costantini.

Rebuilding Mosul will take much time and patience

Despite all this, Mosul residents are supporting the reconstruction efforts. "Cooperation with people in Mosul and surrounding towns is great," says Zettler. Nevertheless, conditions are difficult, as locals inhabit a largely destroyed city in which there is a lack of residential and public buildings.

"They are enthusiastic about reconquering their historic and cultural heritage," says Zettler. "They see both as decisive for their future and are happy for the employment opportunities provided by these restoration efforts." He says the initiative has several effective partners on the ground. "Without them, we could hardly make this happen."

This article was translated from German.

KULTURE

FROM GUN RUNNER TO GRAVE ROBBER

Heinrich Schliemann, the man who discovered Troy

Heinrich Schliemann established archaeology as the science that we know today. The German adventurer and multimillionaire, who died 130 years ago, discovered Troy and what he thought was the Treasure of Priam.


HEINRICH SCHLIEMANN: THE MAN WHO DISCOVERED TROY
Millionaire with a love of antiquity

Heinrich Schliemann, born in 1822 near the German city of Rostock, did not have a lucky start in life. Due to financial hardship, he broke off his studies as a young man and began a business apprenticeship. He quickly made a career using his skill and talent for languages. He built his fortune in Moscow, selling ammunition to the tsar's army. Then he began to educate himself and travel.
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Heinrich Schliemann was a complex character, part dreamer and part genius in disguise. Many of his contemporaries regarded him as a utopian, as he traveled around in Turkey equipped with little but a beat-up edition of Homer's Iliad. Schliemann was determined to discover the site of ancient Troy — and so he did.

For the longest time, the German public used to make light of Schliemann's achievements, as his biggest rival, the top archaeological expert Ernst Curtius, repeatedly mocked him in a bid to polish his own professional profile. Schliemann was, however, much more appreciated in Britain, where the German researcher has always been celebrated as the man who discovered the ancient city of Troy — a place that up to that point had been shrouded in mystery.

Schliemann went on to invent research methods in the late 19th century that are still in use today. His work helped shape the face of archaeology unlike any other.

A businessman and adventurer

From his early childhood, the world of antiquity always fascinated Schliemann. Yet his career path had initially pointed him in a different direction. Raised alongside eight other siblings in a pastor's family in the eastern part of the Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania, Schliemann started out as a tradesman, as his family could not afford to send him to higher education.

He ended up in Amsterdam, where within one year, he learned to speak not only Dutch, but also Spanish, Italian and Portuguese, to be complemented by Russian later on. His extraordinary gift for foreign languages paved the way for a different career prospect: archaeology.


THE LEGENDARY WORLD OF AGAMEMNON
A golden portrait for eternity

In 1876, German archaeologist Heinrich Schliemann discovered spectacular golden masks in a grave. One of them became known as the "Mask of Agamemnon," even though later research determined that the masks were some 400 years older than the king. The masks are highlights of the exhibition "Mycenaean Greece: The legendary world of Agamemnon."
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After then moving to Russia, Schliemann became rich dealing with raw materials for the production of ammunition. He used his fortune to study Ancient Greek and Latin in Paris.

In 1868, he went on an educational trip to the Greek island of Ithaka, where he decided to look for the palace of Ulysses. From there, he traveled to the Marmaris Sea to make his way inland and start the quest for Troy. During his entire journey, Homer's Iliad was Schliemann's one and only true companion, the one book he considered his indispensable guide to discovering Troy.
Following Homer's footsteps

The search for the ancient city of Troy had never ceased for over thousands of years. But, in all that time, no one had ever been able to prove that Homer's saga of the Trojan War had actually occurred — until 1871, when Heinrich Schliemann, then 49 years old, discovered the ruins of the city under the Hisarlik hill in the Troas region in the northwest of present-day Turkey. Schliemann had by no means been the first person to believe that the city described by Homer was hidden under this particular location.

Before Schliemann, the British archaeologist Frank Calvert had already begun excavations in the very same region. The two Troy-obsessed researchers ran into each other by sheer coincidence. Calvert had actually acquired the land around Hisarlik so he could continue with his work, but he lacked the funds to continue with his excavation attempts, which, at that point, had run into a dead end.

Calvert persuaded Schliemann to continue where he had stopped working. After running into a number of initial impasses, Schliemann stubbornly went on with the excavations until in 1872 he hit meter-high ruins belonging to a prehistoric city. Schliemann came to the conclusion that these walls had once formed part of the fortification of Troy.

It had been a difficult journey for both men, as the precise identification of the findings was rendered all the more difficult due to the long history of the city, which had first surfaced in records in 3000 BC.


GREECE'S LARGEST ANCIENT TOMB: AMPHIPOLIS
Female statues keep watch

The most recent finding at the Amphipolis excavation site in northern Greece were two female statues, known as caryatids. Wearing long robes and thick curly hair, they guard the second entrance to the tomb, which dates back to 300-325 BC - the era of Alexander the Great. The interior of the tomb has not yet been explored, but experts suspect the contents may still be intact.
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Errors in classification

Among his most significant discoveries in Troy, Schliemann struck a cache of gold and other artifacts, which he subsequently baptized "the treasure of Priam" in 1873. He smuggled the gold treasure out of the country and gave it to the German government to showcase. But the treasure got lost in the throes of World War II, only to later resurface in Russia, where it is now being kept at the Pushkin Museum.

It later turned out that Schliemann's claim to the treasure had been wrong all along. His findings did not amount to the treasure of Priam, but were rather a relic from an unknown culture that had flourished 1,250 years before ancient Troy.

This wasn't the only time that the German explorer had erred: At the Greek archaeological site of Mycenae, where Schliemann carried out excavations from 1874 to 1876, he drew a number of wrong conclusions based on his work. Schliemann wrongfully identified a golden mask as having belonged to the ancient Greek military leader Agamemnon.

Despite his errors and wrong conclusions, the world continued to venerate Heinrich Schliemann as one of the most significant archaeologists of all times.

He died in Naples on December 26, 1890.

This article has been adapted from German.

WAR ON WOMEN

Is Croatia going the way of Poland on reproductive rights?

In Croatia, lawmakers and activists have been debating abortion legislation for three decades. The church, conservative politicians and pro-life activists now want to see rules tightened as they have been in Poland.


The anti-abortion movement is strong in Croatia

Since 1991, when Yugoslavia fell apart and Croatia became an independent state, conservative elements in the country have been trying to overturn the liberal abortion law introduced in the communist era. This legislation from 1978 allows Croatian women to have an abortion up to the 10th week of pregnancy without having to give reasons or fulfill any additional conditions. That is the theory. In practice, however, implementing the law has been somewhat tricky, as it was amended in 2003 to give doctors the right to refuse the operation on grounds of conscience.

Sanja Kovacevic from the organization Platform for Reproductive Justice concedes that Croatian women's rights activists did not see the dangers of this amendment in time and failed to take appropriate action. She says it was not until the conservative Croatian Democratic Union (HDZ) came to power again that they realized the change to the legislation could be problematic. "There is a certain clique in medical circles and associations that cooperates with the conservative organizations in the country," she says.

Sanja Kovacevic from the Platform for Reproductive Justice speaks of 'gynecological violence' against women

'Gynecological violence' toward women

A growing number of Croatian women are now traveling to neighboring Slovenia to have abortions. Leftist-liberal activists are in no doubt that the powerful Catholic Church and the ruling HDZ are to blame for this. Having an abortion is increasingly stigmatized in Croatia, Kovacevic says, while women's freedom to take decisions about their own bodies is being called into question more and more.

Kovacevic says that religious instruction is given higher priority than sex education in Croatia. She has harsh words for what is happening in her country: "Women are experiencing a kind of gynecological violence." According to her, when women go to their local hospital and say they want an abortion, they are turned away and often have to endure insults and moral lectures to boot.

These claims are borne out by the results of a study in the hands of the Croatian commissioner for gender equality, Visnja Ljubicic. The research was carried out in 30 state-run hospitals and clinics in which abortions should be possible — in theory, at least.

"In 2014, 54% of the medical personnel made use of their right to refuse, and in 2018, 59%. In Slovenia, by comparison, only 3% of medical practitioners exercise the right," Ljubicic says

Visnja Ljubicic says anti-abortion information material has been laid out in some hospitals

Ljubicic also recounts that women have often complained about finding disturbing anti-abortion material in hospitals, such as brochures and posters. She says this material was mostly removed at her intervention.

Although Ljubicic is aware that both the right to abortion and the right of doctors to refuse to perform one are enshrined in Croatian law, she says this does not mean that one right has precedence over the other. "It cannot be that an individual right is used as a collective right to block an entire medical institution," she argues. She offers a practical solution: "If all the employees at a state-run clinic exercise this individual right, the clinic has to hire a doctor from outside who carries out the abortions."
Good or bad news from Poland?

Reports that the already strict abortion laws in Poland have been tightened further have shocked Croatian women's rights activists. But in the conservative circles that are fighting for a ban on abortions in Croatia, they have provoked enthusiasm.

The best-known Croatian pro-life activist, Zeljka Markic, welcomes the decision by the Polish Constitutional Court as a "recognition of the scientific realization that life begins with conception."

Markic, who chairs the association In the Name of Family, said the ban has made Poland a "beacon" for the other EU member states with regard to children's and human rights. She says this applies "especially to a country like Germany, which has experienced in its recent history what it is like when the right to life is not absolute but depends on a person's nationality, religion or state of health."

For Markic, the right to abortion is not just a right that affects women. "For me, it is a decision by women and men. Every child has a father and a mother. And the men should be allowed to play a part in the decision." She does not believe the surveys showing that a majority of Croats are against an abortion ban and believes that every person is obliged to protect human life "from conception to death."

Zeljka Markic says life must be protected from conception on

Right to abortion declared constitutional

Conservatives in Croatia have tried to overturn the 1978 law at the Constitutional Court. But in 2017, the court rejected their case and ruled that the existing law was constitutionally valid. At the same time, however, the government was tasked with amending the old law and building in preventive measures so that abortion remains an exception and does not become the rule. This task was to have been completed by 2019 but nothing has been done to this day.

Women's rights activists in Croatia reckon with a hard fight against the new law but are sure they will win. Kovacevic says that while Croatia has similarities with Poland in that the Catholic Church also plays a big role there, she does not believe that it will take the Polish path. She and her fellow activists feel that their cause has been strengthened by the 2017 ruling from the Constitutional Court: that the right to abortion is valid under the constitution.

VIDEO

• https://p.dw.com/p/3n9qT

This article has been translated from German.

BACKGROUNDER

Argentina's Catholics, evangelicals unite against abortion bill


Issued on: 27/12/2020 - AFP

Aerial view of anti-abortion activists demonstrating against a bill to legalise abortion outside the Argentinian Congress on November 28, 2020 Ivan PISARENKO AFP

Buenos Aires (AFP)

At the entrance to Argentina's Congress is a plaque reminding legislators that Our Lady of Lujan is the patron saint of the country's political parties -- a not-so-subtle nod to religion in a nation considering whether to allow abortions.

As Argentina's Senate prepares to vote on a bill that would legalize the practice, the Catholic Church has joined forces with evangelical Christians to fight the measure tooth and nail.

The bill, which aims to legalize voluntary abortions at up to 14 weeks, was passed by the Chamber of Deputies on December 11 and will be debated and voted on in the Senate on Tuesday.

Two years ago a similar bill passed the lower house but was defeated in the Senate following a determined campaign by both Catholics and evangelicals.

Argentina's constitution guarantees freedom of religion and a 1994 reform removed the requirement that the president be Catholic.

However it retains a reference to God in its preamble and its second article guarantees government support for the Catholic Church.

"The Catholic Church in Argentina has great sway. There's a very strong Catholic culture in the political world," sociologist Fortunato Mallimaci, who wrote a book on what he says is the myth of Argentine secularism, told AFP.

"Religious groups look for state support and the state, when it feels weak, looks for support from religious groups. Today the Catholic Church wields more political than religious clout," he said.

Catholicism is a strong force in Argentina, the homeland of Pope Francis.

The state pays a salary to archbishops and subsidizes Catholic schooling, which accounts for 36 percent of education in Argentina, according to Mallimaci.

- Francis stays silent -

However, Catholicism has been losing influence as evangelical Christianity gains ground.

According to a 2019 poll by a government agency, 62.0 percent of Argentines identify as Catholic, 18.9 percent as non-religious and 15.3 percent as evangelical.

The Catholic Church's sway can be seen in Argentina's delay compared to other countries in adopting a number of laws: divorce was legalized only in 1987, sex education introduced in 2006, gay marriage approved in 2010 and a gender identity law passed in 2012.

Abortion is currently only allowed in two cases: rape and a danger to the mother's life.

"There is an opposition and huge rejection from the Catholic Church, which weighs heavily" on the chances of the law passing, constitutional lawyer Alfonso Santiago told AFP.

However, Santiago believes the relationship between the government of President Alberto Fernandez, who sponsored the abortion bill, and the Catholic Church will remain strong regardless of which way the vote goes.

"I don't think there will be a break in collaboration on other issues. It didn't happen before" when, for example, same-sex marriage was approved, he said.

While Francis has in the past likened abortion to hiring an assassin, he's remained silent over the current debate.

- Protest strength -

"The problem for the Catholic Church if abortion is legalized is that it will be up to it, and not the state, to ensure that its faithful comply with a prohibition that will be only religious," said Mallimaci.

A 2020 government poll found that 22.3 percent of Catholics in Argentina believe that a woman should have the right to an abortion if she wants one.

Meanwhile 55.7 percent said it should be permitted only in certain situations while just 17.2 percent supported a blanket ban.

Since 2018, evangelicals have come to the fore in protesting legalization.

"They have the momentum of the reborn," said Mallimaci, pointing to the light blue handkerchiefs brandished by evangelicals at their protests, as a counterweight to the green ones sported by abortion rights activists.

"Catholics don't mobilize in that way."

Despite their constant growth, evangelical churches in Argentina "don't have the same political weight as in other countries, such as Brazil where they can count on a parliamentary bloc."

Their strength, however, lies is in street protests and they will be out in force Tuesday in front of Congress, face-to-face with abortion rights demonstrators.

From bean to bar, Haiti's cocoa wants international recognition


Issued on: 27/12/2020 - 

A worker sorts cocoa beans in the workshop of the Makaya chocolate company in Petionville, Haiti Valerie Baeriswyl AFP

Port-au-Prince (AFP)

Although small in the face of South America's giants, Haiti is slowly developing its cocoa industry, earning better incomes for thousands of farmers and refuting the stereotype that culinary art is the preserve of wealthy countries.

Haiti's annual production of 5,000 tonnes of cocoa pales in comparison to the 70,000 tonnes produced per year by neighboring Dominican Republic, but the sector's development is recent in the island nation.

Feccano, a federation of cocoa cooperatives in northern Haiti, became the first group to organize exchanges in 2001 by prioritizing farmers' profits.

"Before, there was the systematic destruction of cocoa trees because the market price wasn't interesting for farmers who preferred very short-cycle crops," said Guito Gilot, Feccano's commercial director.

The cooperative now works with more than 4,000 farmers in northern Haiti.

By fermenting its members' beans before export, Feccano has been able to target the market for fine and aromatic cocoa.

"Feccano's customers pay for quality: they don't have the New York Stock Exchange as a reference," said Gilot.

- Just-in-time collection -

Smelling potential, Haiti's private sector finally began investing in the cocoa industry, which until then had been supported solely by non-governmental organizations and humanitarian efforts.

By setting up its fermentation setter in 2014 in Acul-du-Nord, 15 kilometers (nine miles) from Haiti's second city Cap-Haitien, the company Produit des iles (PISA) entered the market. But the logistical challenges are many.

"The producers we work with farm less than a hectare, often divided into several plots whereas, in Latin America, a small producer already owns four or five hectares," explained Aline Etlicher, who developed the industry at PISA.

"We buy fresh cocoa, the same day as the harvest so the farmer no longer has the problems of drying and storing that they would have if they sold it to an intermediary," said the French agronomist.

In recent months, this just-in-time bean collection from all sites has been more challenging because many roads were regularly blocked due to socio-political unrest.

Maintaining organic and fair trade certifications for the cocoa is delicate, but the Haitian style has made its mark abroad.

"Today there are bars sold in the United States that are called Acul-du-Nord," Etlicher said proudly.

"With our customers, we are part of the 'bean to bar' movement of chocolate makers who transform the cocoa bean into the chocolate bar," she said, adding that by cutting out the middleman, Haitian producers' revenues have doubled.

And on the other end of the chain, bean processing remains local.

- 'Plant your cocoa' -

For master chocolatier Ralph Leroy, making a rum ganache -- Haitian, just like all the products he uses -- was not an obvious choice.

After years in Montreal, he returned home to Haiti as a haute-couture stylist.

His shift to cocoa began when he made clothes out of chocolate for a culinary trade show. The training he then underwent for a year in Italy fueled his passion as much as his pride.

"The first week, I think I was insulted when the professor said, 'Chocolate is made for Europe. You there, plant your cocoa, we buy the cocoa and do the work,'" he recalled.

Today, Leroy runs the chocolate company he founded in 2016, Makaya, and the edible sculptures that come out of his workshop are a huge sensation at parties. His company now has about 20 employees who share his passion.

"Even in cooking schools, we don't learn this. I learned everything here and I am very, very proud," said Duasmine Paul, 22, head of Makaya's laboratory.

Echoes of car horns reach the ears of Makaya employees carefully sorting cocoa beans, a side effect of the chaotic traffic that paralyzes Haitian capital Port-au-Prince at the end of the year.

From his workshop, where he also concocts chocolate-based cocktails, Leroy sees as sweet revenge the great marketing of his bars.

"The greatest pleasure is when, before traveling, Haitians come here to buy a lot to offer abroad. It's become their pride. And also when Europeans come and buy all the stock... I tell myself that I am doing a good job," he says with a burst of laughter.

© 2020 AFP