Author: Bruna Kadletz

  • Special Report: Punitive Policies Inflict Further Exclusion and Trauma on Syrian Refugee Children

    The future of a generation born during over eight years of conflict in Syria is under threat. More than half of all school-aged Syrian children living as refugees in neighbouring countries do not have access to formal education. In this second of a two-part series humanitarian activist and author Bruna Kadletz addresses the educational crisis for school-aged refugees.

    From the balcony on the second floor where an orphanage shelters around forty Syrian children, you can see on the horizon a majestic natural wall of snow-capped mountains. Between the building, the clear blue sky and the highlands, plantation plots, mosques and other edifices adorn the fertile valley, which served as foodstuffs for the Roman provinces of the Levant, during antiquity.

    The Beqaa Valley, in eastern Lebanon, has since become a place of intense pressure, oscillating between hospitality and hostility. In the aftermath of the Lebanese Civil War (1975 – 90), the government dedicated itself to rebuilding the capital Beirut, but neglected rural areas. As a result, the Beqaa Valley has one of the highest levels of inequality in the country, concentrating a mix of poverty and political abandonment.

    Since 2011, the influx of Syrian refugees, have exacerbated the inequality and poverty in the valley. Due to its proximity to the Syrian border, with Mount Lebanon to the west and the Anti-Lebanon range to the east, it received approximately three-hundred-and-fifty-thousand[1] refugees, who escaped the brutality of the on-going Syrian Civil War. This influx has had a profound impact on the region´s political, social and economic environment.

    Throughout this period, waves of hospitality have been punctuated by xenophobic attacks, harming refugees in need of protection, and generating further hostility. In June 2019, an apparently accidental fire[2] near the Deir al-Ahmar Refugee Camp displaced around six hundred refugees in the valley, exposing the latest tensions between residents and refugees. According to Nasser Yassin, researcher at the American University of Beirut, the incident, and how it was handled, is an example of ‘collective punishment’ perpetrated by local governments in order to push Syrians away.

    Despite the harsh living conditions for both local populations and newcomers, punitive responses and policies inflict further exclusion and trauma on refugees, with particularly adverse effects on children, who are restricted from enjoying a dignified life and education.

    In April 2019, I travelled to the Beqaa Valley to visit the Molham House, an orphanage housing Syrians kids who have lost their parents or the families taking care of them. The Molham team is responsible for the physical, emotion and social well-being of the children, particularly those who carry the trauma of the war.

    Before moving to the orphanage, many of the Syrian children did not enjoy access to education, food, or a clean and safe place to live. Some could not speak on arrival in the house, reflecting psychological wounds, while others were scarred with physical injuries. The Molham team has been working to improve the children’s lot by offering a home, medical care, psychological support and education.

    We arrived in the late morning, when the children were getting ready for school. Ghaithaa, a Syrian refugee herself, who works and lives in the Molham House, introduces the house to us. As we walk through the building´s chambers, the playful children follow us excitedly.

    After our short tour, I found my way to the balcony. The view was breathtaking not only for its natural beauty, but also because of the tough living conditions of refugees. There were countless informal tented settlements spread next to plantation plots. During the wintertime, when freezing temperatures, snow and torrential rain wreck the settlements, refugees are left in desperate need of emergency aid.

    Access to decent housing is one of the many challenges in the region. Preventing child labour and ensuring an education for school-aged children and youth is another. In early 2015, the Lebanese government suspended the registration of Syrians entering the country and imposed legal restrictions on those already inside the territory, suspending access to formal work, documentation and freedom of movement, and implementing a yearly residency renewal fee of US$200.

    Adults are thus unable to provide for their families and live with scarce resources in precarious conditions. In this extreme context, families end up depending on child labour to survive. Recent research published by UNICEF: Survey on Child Labour in Agriculture in the Bekaa Valley of Lebanon: The case of Syrian refugees[3], revealed that ‘4,592 children, between the ages of 4 and 18 years, were reported as actively working, out of a total of 6,972 children living in the surveyed households.’ The research also found that 74.8% of surveyed children work in the agriculture sector and for 85.6% of the working children, family support was the leading motive to work.

    Besides insufficient public schools, lack of financial resources to pay for transportation, school supplies and registration fees, child labour also curtails education opportunities through non-enrolment, school dropout, and/or poor academic performance.

    In the orphanage in the Bekaa Valley, children face familar challenges on arrival. The main reasons for low enrolment levels are lack of documents and financial problems.

    Another issue for the children is the period in which they are permitted to study. Lebanese public schools segregate Lebanese students from Syrian refugees. Ensuring education for all, schools work double shifts. In the morning, it´s learning time for Lebanese students and other foreigners, whereas in the afternoon, it´s the Syrian refugees’ turn to learn.

    Ghaithaa tells us that ‘some kids complain about going to school in the afternoon, they feel tired studying from 1 to 7pm. They return home very tired. Plus, they´re not psychologically fit to study.’

    ‘Refugees in Lebanon have a very hard life,’ she concludes.

    Despite all the difficulties, the sentiment permeating the environment is one of care. In the orphanage, Ghaithaa is responsible for ten girls, ranging in age from six to twelve.

    ‘Each one carries a story. Of course, all of us have fled from Syria, from the war, and we left in harsh conditions. Many of the children have lost someone they love, so this house is a shelter for them, a place where they feel safe, where they are loved, where they are being educated.’ she says.

    ‘Kids are the most important thing for us,’ she says, with tears in her eyes.

    During times of humanitarian crisis and uncertainty, access to a quality education is a daily challenge faced by millions of refugee children and youth around the world. Maintaining access to education in times of crisis is complex, demanding local, regional and international efforts, and political will. Beyond dismantling punitive politics toward refugees, ensuring inclusive policies and developing plans for education, we must cultivate a culture of care and affection.

    In creating a safe, healthy and playful environment for children deeply wounded by the atrocities of wars, armed conflict and social collapse, we may regenerate lost generations.

    [1] Data on registered Syrian refugees in Lebanon, UNHCR. Available at: https://data2.unhcr.org/en/situations/syria/location/71

    [2] ‘Lebanon´s Deir al-Ahmar: how an incident displaced 600 refugees,’ Anchal Vohra for Al Jazeera. Available at: https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2019/06/lebanon-deir-al-ahma-incident-displaced-600-refugees-190609095940222.html

    [3] Rima R. Habib (2019). ‘Survey on Child Labour in Agriculture in the Bekaa Valley of Lebanon: The Case of Syrian Refugees.’ Beirut, Lebanon: American University of Beirut Press. Available at: https://www.unicef.org/lebanon/media/1621/file/ChildLabourSurvey_2019.pdf

  • Refugee Education: Can We Regenerate Lost Generations?

    The future of a generation born during over eight years of conflict in Syria is under threat. More than half of all school-aged Syrian children living as refugees in neighbouring countries do not enjoy access to a formal education. In this two-part series humanitarian activist and author Bruna Kadletz addresses a global educational crisis for school-aged refugees.

    Istanbul, May 2016

    What are the immediate and long-term consequences of living without a fundamental human right: access to a quality education?

    In the basement of an old building in the district of Fatih, a district with the highest concentration of Syrian refugees in Istanbul, Turkey, I first contemplated this multifaceted question.

    I travelled for the first time to Turkey in May 2016. The country is host to the highest concentration of refugees in the world. Almost four million people have sought protection in Turkish territory, including 3.6 million registered Syrian refugees, as well as approximately 365,000 from other parts of the world.

    At the time of my first visit, the refugee crisis was at its peak. This prompted me to volunteer for two months in Small Projects Istanbul, an independent NGO operating a community centre for displaced persons. The organisation offers Turkish and English lessons for adults and children, as well as providing employment opportunities for women. It is a safe haven for men, women and children fleeing for their lives from a war-torn country.  

    The centre operates from the basement of an old building in Fatih. I well remember the day my mind turned to one of the most devastating outcomes of wars and conflicts: the lack of educational opportunities for displaced children and youth.

    Leila

    It was a Saturday morning when I first met Leila, a sweetly smiling nine-year old Syrian girl with long, silky hair. Leila was attending Arabic classes with her elder sisters Amal, and younger one Hanan. I sat next to her and watched as she copied the lesson from the board. When she had finished, I asked her to read what was written in her notebook.

    Leila looked at me with her expressive eyes, and timidly said, ‘I can´t read.’

    The import of her words didn´t sink in immediately, assuming she had misunderstood me. I repeated the question more slowly this time, thinking she hadn’t been able to translate what was written into English. Of course she could read her native language I assured myself. Using the same words, however, she replied in almost perfect English, ‘I can´t read in Arabic.’

    Once more, her answer puzzled me. To my mind, it didn´t make sense. How could Leila be able to communicate perfectly in both Arabic and English, copy the lesson from the board and, yet, not be able to read it?

    After telling me her story, I understood.

    This young girl had never attended school. The Syrian War began when she was just four years of age, depriving Leila and her siblings access to formal education, let alone a normal childhood. She had learned how to communicate normally, and even copy the shapes of the words from the board onto her notebook. But she had no knowledge of the individual letters or how they sounded.

    The meaning of the sentences she was copying down were a mystery to her. War had left her illiterate. Amidst all the other problems and challenges, her education had not been prioritised.

    Living as refugees in Turkey, Leila and her sisters could not access formal education. Since the girls did not speak Turkish, they could not enrol in a public school. The community centre, where they took Arabic classes, was the closest thing they experienced to a school environment.

    Ahmed

    Public schools and temporary education centres are the two main options for refugee children who wish to continue their studies. Yet more than half a million school-aged Syrian refugees in Turkey don´t access these options and are left without an education.  

    A week after meeting Leila I learned about a fourteen-year-old boy in a similar situation. Ahmed was also out of school, but for different reasons. After fleeing the conflict he and his family settled in Istanbul. His father carried on into Europe, leaving the boy as the family’s primary breadwinner.

    Ahmed worked exhausting shifts in a backpack factory to sustain his mother, siblings and disabled uncle. Yet the squalid working conditions and low wages hadn’t take away his spark. He used to spend his days off at the community centre learning English, playing football and trying his best to live a normal adolescence. Remarkably, he always had a smile on his face.

    These stories reflect a global trend. For millions of refugee children bearing the human cost of war and armed conflict, education is a distant dream rather than a lived reality. According to the UNHCR´s latest report on refugee education, ‘Stepping Up: Refugee Education in Crisis’, more than 3.7 million school-aged refugee children and youth are out of school.

    The report provides other worrying statistics: only 24% of refugees enrol in secondary education, compared to a global average of 84%; just 3% of refugees have access to higher education.

    Another statistic attracted my attention from the report: approximately 2.9 million school-age refugee children, and youth, live in just five countries, namely Turkey, Lebanon, Pakistan, Sudan and Uganda. These are developing countries in need of international support to cope with the refugee education crisis.

    ‘Zones of vulnerability’

    There are many barriers preventing refugee children and youth from attending school, including language, absence of documentation, and a lack, or absence altogether, of teachers and schools. Refugees also face restrictive school enrolment policies, lack of income to pay for schooling and social stigma.

    A lack of educational opportunities, alongside inadequate integration policies, place refugee communities in zones of vulnerability, leading to further exclusion, cycles of poverty and low prospects of finding suitable employment opportunities. These are a few of the consequences of being denied the right to a quality education.

    How can we regenerate the losses of generations adversely affected by wars and conflicts and ensure a fundamental right to education is vindicated?

    Filippo Grandi, the UN’s high commissioner for refugees, says the solution to the crisis lies in the need to ‘invest in refugee education or pay the price of a generation of children condemned to grow up unable to live independently, find work and be full contributors to their communities.’

    Investment in refugee education goes beyond including school-age refugee in national education systems and providing further funding for UN agencies. Host countries must ensure cultural and linguistic inclusion, as well as creating opportunities for parents to resume their careers, enjoy access to paid employment and provide assistance to entrepreneurs.

    Education is a major stepping stone for societal evolution, human development and psychological liberation. With an education a refugee can transcend the dehumanising labels imposed on them and potentially realise their full potential; children confined in refugee camps and urban slums can develop a sense of dignity and belonging. Moreover, education protects children from exploitation, forced marriage and child labour. Education is the pathway for a safer and brighter future.

    To invest in refugee education is to invest in the future of humanity.

  • Reviving the Language of Care in Climate Change Consciousness

    As a child I had recurring dreams of great waves crashing over me. Some would swallow me up, making me lose consciousness. In others I would reach the top of a hill, where I would observe the sea level slowly rising from afar, engulfing the fishing village in which I still live.

    My village is in a protected area in southern Brazil. The place is an idyllic meeting point, where hills, river, white sand dunes and the sea merge into a breath-taking view. The river, called Madre, meaning mother, dances through the wetlands, appearing like a serpent before it reaches the sea. Most days its floodplain lies well away from the houses on the coast line.

    Lately, however, we are observing higher tides and the shrinking of the sandbank. This year winter arrived late and was shorter than usual. We experienced extreme heat alternating with cold days that interfered with the mullet’s reproduction cycle. As a result the fishing season was shorter than usual.

    Climate fluctuation is increasingly evident, affecting the rhythms of nature and impacting on livelihoods.

    For millions of people around the globe, the climate breakdown is a living reality rather than a far off prediction. According to the Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre, 17.2 million[i] people fled their homes in 2018, due to storms, hurricanes, floods, other cataclysmic weather events or environmental shifts. Those living in the Philippines, China and India have been most adversely affected by these phenomena.

    Climate change and forced displacement are the defining challenges of our times.

    In the wake of climate breakdown last month António Guterres, the United Nations Secretary-General hosted the 2019 Climate Action Summit in New York, calling for concrete action to meet the global climate predicament.

    In spite of being in the company of many of the world’s most powerful political leaders, the star of the summit was clearly a Swedish teenager who had just crossed the Atlantic Ocean in a zero-carbon sailboat. Greta Thunberg, climate activist and global phenomenon, managed to capture all our attention. In a powerful speech addressed to governments, businesses and civil society, she condemned world leaders for betraying younger generations, and for indolence in response to the climate collapse and its attendant human costs. 

    I was moved and indeed overjoyed to observe Greta calling humanity’s attention to a dimension often excluded from these talks – the human and ecological costs of our destructive economic system and fossil fuel-addicted societies. 

    Visibly emotional, she uttered the now famous words: ‘people are suffering; people are dying; entire ecosystems are collapsing; we are in the beginning of a mass extinction, and all you can talk about is money and fairy tales of eternal economic growth.’

    At a stroke Greta had restored the language of care to climate talks, having underpined her arguments with reference to the science.

    In as much as we must address issues related to carbon emissions, build creative and sustainable solutions, and change our economic systems and modes of production, the conversation must include climate justice for those on the frontline of climate change. We will only understand forced displacement in the context of climate breakdown once we revive within ourselves the language of care for others, for all living beings, and for the planet itself.

    Unless we humanise the lived experience of those forced to flee hurricanes, floods and droughts, we will continue to externalise the human cost of climate breakdown, and carry on with business as usual: the “fairy tales of eternal economic growth.” 

    If the images of Cyclone Idai, which hit Mozambique, Zimbabwe and Malawi, and Hurricane Dorian – the strongest storm ever to land in the Bahamas – do not awaken concern and care for the victims of climate breakdown, then humanity seems doomed.

    Often I have a sense of hopelessness. I understand many people share similar responses and feelings. When I feel overwhelmed and insignificant in the face of this global crises I take refuge in silence.        

    As an adult working with communities displaced by wars, poverty and weather events, my childhood dreams now support me. At times, caught up in the here and now, I am immersed in the sea of action; at other points, I pause and step back to reflect, restore and witness the larger picture.

    To my mind, these are complementary movements sustaining an open heart and active hands in a world in crisis. As I delve inwardly I observe my motivations. I connect with my principles and values, I feel the pain of a suffering world. As I emerge outwardly, I align my actions and speech with deeper aspects of myself. They are the in-breath and out-breath of sacred activism, that operate like the seasons of my existence.

    To confront widespread climate breakdown, and the despair this brings, one must connect with the language of deep care for the Earth and all living beings. Then we can respond from a place of transformation and embody a new way of living and relating to the planet.

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    [i] Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre, ‘Global Report on Internal Displacement 2019’, http://www.internal-displacement.org/global-report/grid2019/

  • Roger Casement’s Example Inspires me to Protect the Amazon and its People

    Over the course of 2019 there has been a sharp increase in deforestation in the Brazilian Amazon rainforest. Human rights violations and ecological decimation in the region are more of a concern than ever under President Jair Bolsonaro, the so-called ‘Trump of the Tropics.’ Brazilian activist and humanitarian Bruna Kadletz calls on the international community to act in protection of the forest, before it´s too late.

    The Amazon is burning
    The pain of our beloved rainforest
    burning in flames is our pain
    It is the pain of all living creatures
    The Amazon is burning through the criminal hands
    Of agribusiness and our politicians

    I first heard of Roger Casement on a visit to the Amazon region in 2017, when Alan Gilsenan, the Irish filmmaker who wrote and directed ‘The Ghost of Roger Casement’ (2002), told me about the Irish-born British diplomat’s journey into the rainforest at the beginning of the last century.

    It was only, however, in the evening of August 18th 2019, during a film festival featuring Casement´s documentary in São Paulo, Brazil that I fully grasped his importance. Particularly at this time, when human rights violations and ecological decimation in the Amazon region are more concerning than ever.

    Casement´s humanitarian efforts had gained him international recognition by 1904, when he reported on the torture and enslavement of indigenous peoples during the rubber boom in Congo under King Leopold.

    In 1910 the British government sent him to the Amazon rainforest to investigate similar violations in the region of the river Putumayo, Colombia. There he described mutilation, rape, torture and exploitation, carried out under the rule of Julio César Arana, a Peruvian entrepreneur and politician. He also provided humanising narratives for the Putumayo people, emphasising their beauty and bravery.

    Up to this day the indigenous people of Putumayo revere Roger Casement. In one part of the documentary an elder connected the survival of his people to the diplomat, adding that the Amazon needs another Casement to save the forest, and its people, from modern forms of exploitation.

    I fell sleep inspired by Casement’s bravery and humanitarian commitment to bring an end to oppression, imperialism and violence against indigenous peoples.

    On the following day, August 19th, a blanket of smoke cast a dark shadow over São Paulo. By 3pm the day had turned into night. Black, low-level clouds swallowed up the largest city in South America. The overcast winter afternoon had been caused by wildfires raging thousands of kilometres away. In Northern Brazil the rainforest had been burning for weeks, as wildfires passed through the states of Acre, Rondônia, Mato Grosso and Mato Grosso do Sul, reaching the border with Bolivia and Paraguay. The smoke travelled with the wind from north to southeast Brazil, darkening that São Paulo afternoon.

    This corridor of fumes was also a symbolic reminder of the dark atmosphere pervading Brazilian politics, society and wider environment.

    Far-right President Jair Bolsonaro, along with Environmental Minister Ricardo Salles and other supporters, must be held accountable for policies which have brought about this destruction. Prioritising the interests of agribusiness and the extractive sector has caused huge damage to invaluable ecosystems and suffering to native peoples.

    Bolsonaro´s agenda has been catastrophic for Brazilians and the world. Now it is time for the international community to wake up. Individuals can exert pressure on national governments, leading to economic sanctions against the regime.

    Image © Bruna KadletzThe Brazilian National Institute of Space Research (INPE) reports that so far in 2019 the country has experienced the highest incidence of wildfires in five years, registering 74,155 outbreaks between January 1st – the date Bolsonaro came to power – and August 20th. This figure represents an increase of 85% compared to the same period in 2018.

    Data collected by the Institute of Environmental Research in Amazonia (IPAM) links the fires to deforestation, which is not solely explained by a period of drought. IPAM discovered that the ten Amazonian municipalities with the highest number of fires are also the ones with the highest deforestation incidences this year.

    At the beginning of August, encouraged by Bolsonaro´s discourse, farmers in Pará state declared a ‘day of fire’, when several sites in the state were set alight. On August 10th, authorities registered 124 outbreaks in Novo Progresso, 194 in Altamira – followed by more than 237 the following day.

    These criminal acts clear the land in preparation for cattle ranching or growing crops, including genetically modified soybeans, maize and canola that are imported all over the world, generally as animal feed rather than for direct human consumption.

    Last July Ricardo Magnus Galvão, then director of INPE, attracted the attention of Brazilian and international media when he defied the president by revealing the extent of deforestation under Bolsonaro´s administration. The President dismissed scientific facts and attempted to discredit INPE´s data in a failed attempt to mask the rainforest’s grim fate. In exchange for exposing the truth Galvão was removed from his post.

    The Amazon is burning and dying a painful death, while Brazilian agribusiness celebrates governmental permits to deforest and exploit the rainforest. In Tocatins, a state located in the heart of the Amazon region, within a single day of August the government issued 557 authorisations  to deforest specific areas of the state – all aimed at exploiting the land for agriculture.

    Altamira, in the state of Pará, registered the worst concentration of deforestation in Brazil. Between 2013 and 2018 the municipality had seen clearances of 1.9 thousand square kilometres of rainforest. In 2017 I visited Altamira, including the area where the controversial Belo Monte Hydroelectric Complex was built.

    To clear space for the canal, diverting water from the Xingu River to the dam, Belo Monte construction had cut down large stretches of the rainforest. Along the route to an indigenous village deep inside the jungle, we drove by what seemed a graveyard of trees. Tens of thousands of massive tree trunks laying silent on the ground told a vivid story.

    The municipality illustrates another alarming link – the relationship between deforestation, natural resources exploitation and violence towards human beings. Altamira is the second most dangerous city in Brazil, with one-hundred-and-thirty-three recorded homicides for each one hundred thousand inhabitants. Thus, according to Daniel Cerqueira, coordinator of the organization Violence Atlas: ‘The cities with the highest deforestation rates are the ones with the highest numbers of homicides.’

    In the years I lived in Maranhão in legal Amazonia, I witnessed aspects of this dark reality. Most of the numerous occurrences of illegal logging in protected areas were closely associated with violence against indigenous people.

    Like many Brazilians I feel a mixture of despair, powerlessness and sadness over the direction our country and political system has taken. It is painful to watch what is happening, and even more so to realise this is only the beginning in an era marked by climate breakdown, ecological decimation and societal collapse.

    As the elder of the Putumayo indigenous people stated in ‘The Ghost of Roger Casement’, we are in urgent need of a contemporary version of Roger Casement to denounce the atrocities, human rights violations and ecocide, especially in Brazil. And, more importantly, to bring about a shift in consciousness. But will politicians and world leaders listen to the pain and suffering of Pachamana and those fighting for her survival, for all our survival?

    We must preserve hope, even in these dark times. I am constantly searching for motivation to confront how everything seems to be falling apart, and when my greatest source of inspiration is burning down.

    Roger Casement inspired me to delve deeply inside myself in order to find the courage to walk straight into the heart of suffering, shed light on human rights violations and ecological devastation, and help instigate transformation.

    Featured Image is of Roger Casement among the Putumayo people c.1913.

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  • When Home is an Untouchable Beloved

    The cruellest aspect of protracted displacement is a descent into the realms of collective forgetfulness, in places where social injustice and political abandonment are normalised. Fresh from her fourth visit to Lebanon, author and activist Bruna Kadletz sees the Palestinian cause being relegated more and more to the margins of global concern.

    In the autumn of 2017 I met three Palestinian elders at the Shatila Refugee Camp, in Beirut, Lebanon. All are survivors of Al-Nakba, meaning ‘disaster’ or ‘catastrophe’. The expression refers to the period during the violent birth pangs of the Israeli state in 1948, when hundreds of thousands of Palestinians were expelled from their villages and forced into exile. Many of the survivors and their offspring still live as refugees in Lebanon without a right of return to their homeland in sight.

    To the elders, memory, oral history and tradition are essential pillars which sustain Palestinian identity. Otherwise, given the hardships of exile in refugee camps, the generations born expatriated are at risk of forgetting not only who they are, but also about the land of their ancestors.

    For millions of refugees around the world, home is an untouchable beloved, imagined in the sweetness and pain of memories, and only visited in the imageries of storytelling. Many Palestinians still carry the keys to their former homes in Palestine, symbolizing an unwavering desire to return. This dream of home is their life breath.

    Holding a misbaha in one of his hands, while moving prayer beads through his fingers, Abu Mahmoud and other elders talk about the Occupation’s deep wounds and transgenerational trauma, as well as community and ties to the land. In the old Palestinian villages, sharing and a sense of community were central values integrated into personal relationships and the economic system.

    To the villagers, the land held a deep meaning – involving devotion to the soil out of which figs, olives, wheat, among other crops, grew – and was not seen as a commodity, with a purely financial price. Before selling their produce, tradition demanded a share be reserved for the wider village community. This practice ensured all residents generally had access to sufficient nutritious food.

    This camp where the elders now reside lies far from those childhood memories. Shatila, along with another dozen camps in Lebanese territory, was set-up in 1949 in response to the Palestinian exodus. Today, there are approximately four hundred and fifty thousand Palestinians registered in refugee camps in that country.[i] Since the beginning of the Syrian War in 2011 the camps have been swollen further by the arrival of Syrian refugees.

    Being Brazilian, when I first entered an urban refugee camp in Lebanon, I was reminded of our favelas. The structure and living conditions of favelas and urban refugee camps are very similar: overpopulation, cramped buildings, a lack of sanitation and extreme poverty are among the resemblances. Favelas and urban refugee camps are pockets of social and political abandonment, zones of exclusion and punishment, where fundamental human rights and dignified living conditions are, all too often, unattainable.

    I was accompanied by my cousin Marina on my most recent visit to Lebanon in April 2019. As it was her first visit, I advised against drinking from taps, or even touching the camp´s water. Unfortunately she forgot the warning and rinsed her mouth with tap water, which was extremely salty, leaving her feeling nauseous. Most residents use this same water to wash their faces and hands, brush their teeth and bathe. I previously found it so salty that it burned my eyes.

    A local told us that most of the water distributed in refugee camps in Lebanon is contaminated. Treatment plants inject high volumes of disinfectant chemicals to mask the pollution, amidst a water crisis.

    Some Palestinian camps have another singular characteristic: the water distribution system is not subterranean. Instead, water is circulated via pipes which intertwine with electric wires, forming a deadly roof, covering great swathes of the camps. Wherever a leak occurs residents are in danger of electrocution.

    Because Palestinians living in Lebanon are prohibited from acquiring property in that state, and denied entry to over seventy professions, most have bleak future.

    Since they cannot build beyond the camp’s walls and expand horizontally, the remaining option is to build vertically and take advantage of every square inch in the camp. As a result, there is now insufficient gaps between buildings and deficient ventilation. The sun does not shine on the narrow alleys connecting the camps.

    I am reminded of a popular Brazilian saying, ‘The sun rises for all’. Underpinning this optimistic view of life, is an understanding that everyone enjoys similar opportunities in life. But having witnessed the exclusion of Palestinian refugees in Lebanon, and the deprivations they endure in their daily lives, it seems to me that, for those living in alleys and ghettos, the sun does not rise at all. Alas, a growing number of displaced people around the world, like the Palestinians, inhabit this dark space of dispossession.

    In August 2018, the Trump administration announced it would cease funding the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA), which is responsible for the protection and provision of aid to Palestinians in the Middle East.[ii] For many years, the U.S. had been contributing a quarter of UNRWA’s budget. This was part of a wider strategy of subjugating the Palestinian people by placing them in positions of greater economic vulnerability. The loss of funding is already harming projects supported by UNRWA, such as schools and medical clinics.

    Yet, in spite of adversity, Palestinians remain resilient. When I think of Palestinians, I see the olive trees they love so much. Olive trees are drought-resistant and grow in poor soil. This reflects Palestinian strength, resistance and endurance. The trees and the Palestinian people can teach us how to bear fruit, even in arid conditions.

    [i] United Nations relief and works agency for Palestinian refugees in the Near East, ‘Where We Work’, https://www.unrwa.org/where-we-work/lebanon, accessed 29/4/19.

    [ii] Karen DeYoung and Ruth Eglash, ‘Trump administration to end U.S. funding to U.N. program for Palestinian refugees’, August 30th, 2018, The Washington Post, https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/national-security/trump-administration-to-end-us-funding-to-un-program-for-palestinian-refugees/2018/08/30/009d9bc6-ac64-11e8-b1da-ff7faa680710_story.html?utm_term=.0798b05139ba, accessed 29/4/19.

  • ‘Discourse of Pollution’ from the ‘Trump of the Tropics’

    The use of xenophobic language by Brazil’s new president, Jair Bolsonaro, known as the ‘Trump of the tropics’, reinforces a dangerous narrative in which refugees and migrants are portrayed as threats to national security, writes humanitarian worker Bruna Kadletz.

    FLORIANÓPOLIS, Brazil – In his first official visit to the White House, Brazil’s new Far Right President Jair Bolsonaro, declared his support to president Donald Trump´s dehumanising immigration policies.

    Publicly reinforcing dangerous stereotypes of refugees and migrants as threats to national security, cultural heritage and social order he said in an with Fox News on Monday, March 18th: ‘The majority of potential immigrants do not have good intentions or do not intend to do the best or do good for the American people.’[efn_note]Jill Colvin and Peter Prengman, ‘Trump buddies up with Bolsonaro, the ‘Trump of the Tropics’’ March 20th, 2019, Associated Press, https://www.apnews.com/bdc70648e5814d25b549d1c252910006, accessed 27/3/19.[/efn_note]During the same interview Bolsonaro lent support to Trump’s plan to build his infamous wall along the US-Mexico border.

    Such remarks are in line with a growing global anti-immigrant trend, treating refugees as unwanted, and referring them to as potential criminals and threats to stability.[efn_note]Vince Chadwick, ‘The top 10 wackiest anti-refugee remarks’ October 19th, 2015, www.politico.eu, https://www.politico.eu/article/toxic-news-refugees-migrants-eu/, accessed 27/3/19.[/efn_note]

    The Populist language of violence and xenophobia promotes the idea that asylum seekers, refugees and vulnerable migrants pollute societies, contaminating social and economic relationships, and that their presence leaves streets dirty. This normalises confinement in exclusion zones, such as refugee camps, detention centres or ships on dangerous voyages.

    American author and cultural critic Henry Giroux calls this rhetoric the ‘discourse of pollution.’ In the United States, the Trump administration employs it as a form of dehumanization, enabling ‘policies in which people are relegated outside boundaries of justice and become the driving force for policies of terminal exclusion.’[efn_note]Henri Giroux, ‘Trump’s Racist Language of Pollution Drives His Brand of Fascism’, January 9th, 2019, Truthdig, https://www.truthdig.com/articles/trumps-racist-language-of-pollution-drives-his-brand-of-fascism/, accessed 27/3/19.[/efn_note]

    The Bolsonaro administration shadows Trump´s moves and employs the same rhetoric from the discourse of pollution. On entering office, his first major move was to pull Brazil out of the United Nations-led Global Compact for Safe Orderly and Regular Migration, adopted by more than 160 countries in December 2018.[efn_note]UN News, ‘Governments adopt global migration pact to help ‘prevent suffering and chaos’, United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs, December 10th, 2018, https://www.un.org/development/desa/en/news/population/global-migration-pact.html, accessed 27/3/19.[/efn_note]‘Not just anyone can come into our home,’ he declared on Twitter. ‘Defending our national sovereignty has been a key part of our campaign and it is now a priority of our government,’ he continued in another tweet.

    Bolsonaro’s views on migrants is consistent with a history of xenophobic comments. In a 2015 interview, he referred to Senegalese, Haitian, Syrian and other asylum seekers arriving in Brazil as ‘the scum of the world,’[efn_note]Alexandre Parrode, ‘Ouça entrevista em que Bolsonaro chama refugiados de “escória” e sugere infarto a Dilma’, September 21st, 2015, Jornal Opcao, https://www.jornalopcao.com.br/ultimas-noticias/ouca-entrevista-em-que-bolsonaro-chama-refugiados-de-escoria-e-sugere-infarto-a-dilma-46313/, accessed 27/3/19.[/efn_note] implying the country had enough problems already, and that they would even pose a threat to the Brazilian Armed Forces.

    On January 6th, he posted a video on his official Facebook page of a Muslim woman being stoned to death. The description underneath reads, ‘Under Sharia law, a woman is stoned to death by many coward Muslims. This is the culture wishing to invade the West and subject us to this aberration.'[efn_note]Jair Bolsonaro Official Facebook Page: https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=1340804376068545&id=211857482296579, accessed 17/3/19.[/efn_note]

    The Brazilian government’s xenophobia and decision to walk away from the migration compact signals dark days of hostility, and stricter border controls.

    Refugees and immigrants, seeking protection and better living conditions, are most affected by the discourse of pollution. Instead of having their human rights vindicated, such a point of view increases the vulnerability and fear of refugees and migrants.

    Far Right global leaders seem to think their individual online rantings exist in a vacuum, but their words embed belief systems, and legitimates the behaviour of extremists. For a head of State to say migrants do not have good intentions or are scum is highly irresponsible. Leaders should be uniting people with a progressive vision, rather than exploiting existing divisions.

    This perverse language informs policies which could lead to further exclusion and vulnerability in places from Brazil to the United States.

    Thus, Bolsonaro’s administration poses a threat to refugees’ human rights. If his discourse of pollution brings harsher migration policies, the result could be further xenophobic attacks, hostility and policies of exclusion. That would only accentuate the vulnerability of asylum seekers and refugees in Brazil.

    Violent and xenophobic language can lead to violent acts being perpetrated against refugees and migrants. The recent massacre at the two mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand, of fifty people, is just the latest example of White Supremacy and Far Right terrorism, encouraged by a misleading narrative of refugees and migrants as pollutants that need to be cleaned up.

    In contrast to others, New Zealand´s Prime Minister, Jacinta Ardern, responded to the massacre with courage and leadership. Her compassionate and caring response is a stark contrast to the angry words of Donald Trump, Jair Bolsanaro and others. Only with the power of love can we move forward as a united global community.

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  • Brazil Special Report: Families Still Seeking Bodies after Brumandinho Dam Disaster

    Last January 25th a dam burst over the town of Brumandinho from a height of eighty-six metres. It unleashed a tsunami of approximately twelve million cubic metres of toxic red sludge over the valley below, eviscerating all in its path.

    The structure had been built as part of an iron-ore-mining operation in Minais Gerais, Brazil’s second most populous state. This is the heartland of the country´s extractive sector, servicing industries all over the world.

    Responsibility for the humanitarian and ecological disaster in Brumadinho lies squarely with Vale, a Brazilian-owned mining company, which has been extracting minerals from the region for decades. Reports circulating indicate the company had been aware of the risks, but failed to adopt precautions in line with international guidelines.[i]

    In prioritising profit, the company externalised the inherent danger of retaining toxic by-products from a mining operation in a tailing dam.

    In late February I visited Brumadinho and Mina do Feijão district, the scene of one of Brazil’s worst Brazilian humanitarian and ecological disasters.

    With main access roads to the town destroyed, I journeyed via unpaved, narrow streets through lush Atlantic forest, enhancing my awareness of the breath-taking ecology still surviving in this region.

    The mountainous state of Minas Gerais is rich in iron, gold, niobium and other minerals, and responsible for more than half of the country’s mineral extraction, with over three hundred mines operating. According to a report published by the Nacional Agency for Mining (Agência Nacional de Mineração), Minas Gerais concentrates 63.1% of the high-risk mining dams in the country.[ii] As in Brumadinho and Mina do Feijão district, most of these dams sit atop mountains, posing threats to villages, towns and ecosystems located in valleys adjacent to the sites.

    Walking down the dirt road towards the epicentre of the disaster, I was hit by a wave of unpleasant odour. A mixture of smells, from decomposing bodies to toxic metals, charges the atmosphere, growing stronger at the approach to the worst scenes of devastation.

    The sight of what greets me is as striking as the odour. At the end of the street, a sea of red mud has consumed all before it. Its force so intense that it has uprooted trees, crushed houses and swallowed human lives. It spread nine kilometres, as far as the Paraopeba River where it has killed aquatic life, adversely affecting local indigenous communities, whose subsistence depends on fishing, and a healthy river for drinking water.

    A month on, families are still looking for bodies. So far, the Brazilian civil defence has set the official death toll at one-hundred-and-eighty-six, but one-hundred-and-twenty-one are still unaccounted for.

    Despite there now being almost no chance of finding anyone still alive, firefighters tirelessly keep up the search for bodies.

    One-hundred-and-twenty volunteers from different parts of the country sustain the rescue mission. Their courage is a lesson in solidarity and care, in the midst of Vale´s criminal negligence and indifference. While firefighters heroically contribute their time and strength, equipped with rescue dogs, bulldozers, drones and helicopters, Vale continues to extract minerals, even from the very site where the tragedy occurred.

    The sound of trucks carrying minerals from the open pit speaks louder than the silenced cries of victims.

    At the disaster´s scene I encountered a woman whose husband is still missing. Martha (not her real name) had arrived with two relatives. Every day she travels the hour’s journey from a neighbouring town, hoping to hear news of her husband José (also not his real name).

    The dam collapsed, without warning, during lunchtime. Around two hundred employers were dining at Vale´s refectory when the walls of the barrage burst. In less than two minutes the mud consumed all, including the refectory.

    According to three surviving workers, José was waiting for the shuttle bus at the time of the disaster. His shift had ended, and having finished his lunch, he was waiting outside, under a tree – the usual spot where the shuttle bus picked-up staff.

    Alas, on that last Friday of January, the shuttle bus never arrived, and José remains missing.

    Martha is grieving her loss. She endures the agony of not knowing what has become of her husband. At least a body, or even a piece of it, would allow her to dignify him with a funeral.

    Martha´s grief resonates with the sorrow of an entire town. Most of Brumadinho´s forty-thousand inhabitants either work for Vale themselves, or know someone who does.

    the sacred soil

    When I think of mud, I think of earth and water, essential elements to life on planet Earth. I also think of soil and its healing properties. Pure mud is the foundation of life, the sacred soil out of which food grows.

    On the contrary, toxic mining mud is lethal.

    When I speak of toxic mud, I speak of earth and water contaminated by heavy metals and poisonous chemicals. Mining operations are sources of pollution and harm. Among the chemicals involved are lead, arsenic, cadmium and mercury. These kill people, other animals and soil.

    Yet, of all the pollutants the most hazardous is greed, the moving force in our economic system that demands the extractive industries.

    To truly decontaminate the affected region and purify river and soil, we as individuals and societies must first decontaminate the financial greed from our economic and political systems. We may purify our hearts and minds by awakening an understanding of the Earth as a source of life to be cared for, not a resource to be exploited.

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    All images (c) Bruna Kadletz

    [i] Beatric Juca, ‘Detenidos otros ocho empleados de Vale por el desastre de la mina de Brumadinho’, 15th of February, 2019, El Pais International, https://brasil.elpais.com/brasil/2019/02/15/politica/1550262453_887391.html accessed 4/3/2019.

    [ii] Matthew Bloch, Scott Reinhard and Sergio Pecanha, ‘Where Brazilians Live in High-Risk Areas Downhill From Mining Dams’ February, 14th, 2019, The New York Times, https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2019/02/14/world/americas/brumadinho-brazil-dam-collapse.html, accessed 4/3/19.

  • Brazil’s Struggle for Life is a Global Concern

    The year began darkly in Brazil. On January 1st, 2019, Jair Messias Bolsonaro was sworn in as President of the largest and richest nation in South America. In his inauguration speech, Bolsonaro stressed his commitment to liberate Brazil, ‘from socialism, inverted values, the bloated state and political correctness’, and called for ‘Brazil above everything, and God above everyone.’[i]

    This far-right authoritarian presidency represents a new era for the nation, featuring unrestricted attacks on environmental protection, human rights movements and social inclusion. Dismissing democratic ideals, his neo-liberal philosophy envisions opening protected reserves to the agribusiness and extractive sectors; reducing crime through liberalising gun possession; and recovering the Judeo-Christian tradition, by marginalising vulnerable groups.

    This new era threatens not only the rainforest and minorities but also democracy, and the world´s fragile climate.

    (c) Fellipe Lopes

    The effect of polarising discourses on an impressionable population

    Bolsonaro was elected in October 2018, vowing to fight corruption and reduce criminality, using an iron fist. Almost fifty-eight million electors supported his messianic message, elevating him to power.

    Removed from any understanding of the complexity of social justice and inclusion, the former army captain promises oppressive power, with armed force on the streets.

    At first sight, his election was a response to a growing disillusionment with the political system. Countless politico-financial scandals and institutional corruption have brought many Brazilians to a stage of hopelessness. People were angry and disenchanted by previous administrations. Voters looked to a saviour, and demanded change, in the shape of this warlike army captain.

    Bolsonaro’s polarising and polemical rhetoric spoke to the fear and dissatisfaction of millions. His campaign manipulated these sentiments, attacking opponents, and promising economic prosperity alongside ultra-conservative Christianity. This formula gained traction through social media and WhatsApp groups that relentlessly spread his message, as well as disseminating fake news about opponents.

    In the past, as a member of the Congress he has openly approved of torture[ii], offending women, indigenous populations, black people and the LGBTQ community. He has made homophobic, xenophobic, racist and misogynist remarks his hallmark.

    Some of his outrageous statements include[iii]:

    • ‘‘The Brazilian cavalry was too incompetent. The American cavalry showed competence in exterminating their Indian populations in the past, nowadays they don’t have this problem anymore.’[iv]
    • ‘I had four sons, but then I had a moment of weakness, and the fifth was a girl.’[v]
    • ‘I would not be capable of loving a homosexual son … I would prefer to see him die in a car accident.’[vi]
    • ‘You can be sure that if I get there [the presidency], there will be no money for NGOs. If it is up to me, every citizen will have a gun at home.’
    • ‘The scum of the world [referring to refugees] is arriving in Brazil as if we didn’t have enough problems to solve’[vii]
    • Trying to invade the West and subject us to this aberration.’ – caption of a video posted on his official Facebook page.[viii]

    His well-publicised hate speeches did not discourage people of all economic classes and social groups from voting for him. On the contrary, the lack of political correctness brought comfort and emboldened those in step with such a tone.

    Many of his supporters interpret the aggressive messages embedded in his speeches as speaking truth to power, or as bringing down the hypocrisy of political correctness. They dismiss the dangerous violence in his words and gestures, including the celebrated simulation of firing a gun with his fingers. This reveals the submerged prejudices of many Brazilians. As a society we must recognise these, and transform in order to move forward.

    This is a period in which the language of political leaders, such as Bolsonaro and Trump, paves the way for the dehumanisation of certain social groups, including indigenous populations, women, black people, LGBTQ community and refugees. These groups are confined to zones of social and political exclusion, in landscapes of abandonment and forgetfulness; dispossessing their lives of intrinsic value and meaning.

    With Bolsonaro’s signature of presidential decrees, his worldview expands into attacks on environmental reserves and wild animals, leading to ecological death.

    (c) Fellipe Lopes

    The disastrous first thirty days

    Only a month in office,[ix] and the new head of the Brazilian state has already signed numerous problematic presidential decrees into law, sided with fascist regimes such as Israel, Italy, Hungary and America, and nominated untrustworthy ministers.

    Among the most alarming is the transfer of powers over indigenous territory to the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Agriculture. Brazil is already the most dangerous country in the world for environmental activists.[x] This move, alongside the demonization of activists amidst a culture of impunity, is likely to foment further violence, and expand deforestation.

    The agribusiness lobby has also managed to reduce bureaucratic oversight in obtaining environmental licenses, with the objective of further deforestation and expansion of agricultural plantation and mining in the Amazon.

    Amazon River (c) Bartholomew Ryan.

    In 2018, the country registered a 13.7% increase in deforestation, the heaviest annual toll for a decade[xi]. With the eradication of NGOs, this is likely to break further records over the coming years.

    After lifting controls on deforestation in the Amazon region, in response to lobbying by the agribusiness and extraction industry, the administration has been hit with its first major humanitarian and ecological crisis.

    On January 25th a dam, constructed to facilitate mining, collapsed[xii] in Brumadinho, south-eastern Brazil, releasing a toxic wave of mud which swamped human lives, houses and surrounding rivers. So far at least thirty-four people are known to have died, with nearly three hundred missing. This is not the first mining dam to have collapsed in the region. Three years ago, the city of Mariana and the Sweet River was engulfed by a similarly deadly tide, containing waste from a nearby iron-ore mine. This was the worst ecological crime in Brazilian history.[xiii] Vale, the company responsible for both disasters, has not been held to account for the Mariana disaster, and continues its activities, without regard to environmental laws.

    A day prior to being hospitalised to remove a colostomy bag, the consequence of a stabbing at a presidential campaign rally in September 2018, Bolsonaro flew over the disaster zone with his Environmental Minister, and mining lobbyist, Ricardo Salles. Despite creating a crisis management office and deploying the armed forces in support of rescue missions in the area, the president referred to the disaster as an ‘accident’. He refuses to commit to prosecuting Vale for its crimes against people and natures. This is in stark contrast to the iron fist he vows to wield against organised crime and corruption.

    The president´s environmental discourses and measures are a deadly combination whose impacts will have global repercussions. The Amazon forest plays a key role in maintaining the world’s fragile climate. Its complex ecosystems is vital to sustaining life, including human life, on our planet. Accelerating its destruction is catastrophic for us all.

    Yet the reality of climate change is deemed an ideology and ‘Marxist plot’[xiv] by the incoming Minister for Foreign Affairs, Ernesto Araújo.

    The first thirty days also included withdrawal from the UN Migration Pact, signed in December 2018; a decree simplifying restriction on gun possession; and an award to Israel’s Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu of Brazil’s most prestigious medal for foreign dignitaries, among other disastrous measures.

    Now a financial scandal has erupted involving Bolsonaro’s eldest son and recently elected senator, Flavio Bolsonaro. This political dynasty won the trust of the electorates with a high moral tone, guaranteeing to sweep corruption away. This revelation, however, of suspicious payments and cash flows, involving Flavio Bolsonaro, his former bodyguard and driver, and Bolsonaro’s wife, is pointing to money laundering, and staining their reputation. The Supreme Court Justice suspended the investigation at the request of Flavio Bolsonaro, but it may resume in February.

    (c) Fellipe Lopes

    A ray of hope

    We are yet to comprehend fully what the social impacts of the 2018 election will be. Already, it is widening existing fissures within Brazilian society, and distancing people on opposing sides of a political chasm. There is conflict and separation, blaming and shaming. Nevertheless, all of us are permeated by the same toxic atmosphere.

    Whatever we agree or disagree on, Brazilians share a common future. We are tied together, with each other, and with the whole planet. The destruction of our forests and pollution of our waters is the erosion of our social fabric and the pollution of our bodies.

    An exploitative economic and political system which disdains to acknowledge the inter-connectedness between all life is destined to collapse eventually. But this failure has a human cost, and brings untold suffering.

    To avoid our social and ecological death, we must view the world with awakened eyes, re-humanising our vision to see nature and people as one. Then we will revere the intrinsic value of all life.

    We need real leaders to invest our trust in to guide us through these dark times. It is time for politicians to unite us under a common vision of justice, sustainability and inclusion. Let us hold hands and bring to life an understanding of our humaneness.

    The feature image by Vitor Schietti was awarded first place in the national contest Como somar num mundo em conflito in 2016. It was taken in Jericoacoara, in the state of Ceará, in 2013. The other images were kindly provided by Felipe Lopes and Bartholomew Ryan.

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    [i] Dom Phillips, ‘Bolsonaro declares Brazil’s ‘liberation from socialism’ as he is sworn in’, January 1st, 2019, The Guardian, https://www.theguardian.com/world/2019/jan/01/jair-bolsonaro-inauguration-brazil-president, accessed 28/1/19.

    [ii] Fernanda Trisotta, ‘”dia que Bolsonaro quis matar FHC, sonegar impostos e declarar guerra civil”

    Leia mais em: https://www.gazetadopovo.com.br/politica/republica/o-dia-que-bolsonaro-quis-matar-fhc-sonegar-impostos-e-declarar-guerra-civil-8mtm0u0so6pk88kqnqo0n1l69/

    Copyright © 2019, Gazeta do Povo, accessed 18/1/19.

    [iii] Eliane Brum, ‘How a homophobic, misogynist, racist ‘thing’ could be Brazil’s next president’, October 6th, 2018, The Guardian, https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2018/oct/06/homophobic-mismogynist-racist-brazil-jair-bolsonaro, accessed 18/1/19.

    [iv] Chico Mares, ‘#Verificamos: É verdade que Bolsonaro elogiou cavalaria norte-americana por dizimar índios’, December 6th, 2018, Lupa, https://piaui.folha.uol.com.br/lupa/2018/12/06/verificamos-bolsonaro-cavalaria/ accessed 18/1/19.

    [v] Bolsonaro: “Eu tenho 5 filhos. Foram 4 homens, a quinta eu dei uma fraquejada e veio uma mulher”, April 6th, 2017, YouTube, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cp1GdBx32CM.

    [vi] Untitled, ‘DEPUTADO JAIR BOLSONARO FALA DA ‘PROMISCUIDADE DE PRETA GIL’ E DECLARA QUE ‘SERIA INCAPAZ DE AMAR UM FILHO HOMOSSEXUAL’ EM ENTREVISTA’, June 7th, 2011, Extra https://extra.globo.com/famosos/deputado-jair-bolsonaro-fala-da-promiscuidade-de-preta-gil-declara-que-seria-incapaz-de-amar-um-filho-homossexual-em-entrevista-1980933.html, accessed 28/1/19.

    [vii] Untitled, ‘Ouça entrevista em que Bolsonaro chama refugiados de “escória” e sugere infarto a Dilma’, September 21st, 2015, Jornal Opção, https://www.jornalopcao.com.br/ultimas-noticias/ouca-entrevista-em-que-bolsonaro-chama-refugiados-de-escoria-e-sugere-infarto-a-dilma-46313/, accessed 28/1/19.

    [viii] Jair Messias Bolsonaro, January 6th, 2019, Official Facebook Page, https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=1340804376068545&id=211857482296579, accessed 28/1/19.

    [ix] Elizabeth Gonzalez and Luisa Leme, ‘Tracking the First 100 Days of Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro’, January 22nd, 2019, American Society / Council of the Americas. https://www.as-coa.org/articles/tracking-first-100-days-brazilian-president-jair-bolsonaro, accessed 28/1/19.

    [x] Lilian Campelo| Edition: Juca Guimarães, ‘Report: Brazil is deadliest country for environmental activists; 57 killed in 2017’, 1st of August, 2018, Friends of the MST, https://www.mstbrazil.org/news/report-brazil-deadliest-country-environmental-activists-57-killed-2017, accessed 28/1/19.

    [xi] Dom Phillilps, ‘Brazil records worst annual deforestation for a decade’, November 24th, 2018, The Guardian, https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2018/nov/24/brazil-records-worst-annual-deforestation-for-a-decade, accessed 28/1/19.

    [xii] Manuela Andreoni and Shasta Darlington,  ‘With Hundreds Missing Following Burst Brazil Dam, a Frantic Search for Survivors’, January 26th, 2019, The New York Times, https://www.nytimes.com/2019/01/26/world/americas/brazil-dam-break.html?action=click&module=Latest&pgtype=Homepage, accessed 28/1/19.

    [xiii] Folha de sa Paulo, ‘Year Of Mud, The Heavy Toll Of Brazil’s Worst Ever Ecological Disaster’, March 11th, 2016, World Cruch, https://www.worldcrunch.com/green-or-gone-1/year-of-mud-the-heavy-toll-of-brazils-worst-ever-ecological-disaster, accessed 28/1/19.

    [xiv] Rute Coelho, ‘Minister calls climate change a ‘Marxist plot’, November 16th, 2018, Plataforma,  https://www.plataformamedia.com/en-uk/news/politics/interior/minister-calls-climate-change-a-marxist-plot-10188562.html?target=conteudo_fechado, accessed 28/1/19.