It was evident there had been several flaws in the tools and the platforms that allowed these things to happen on such a large scale. What does the law say in Brazil? In the past decade, Brazil has had advances in legislation regarding online rights. Last year, 11 years after the Marco Civil da Internet — a bill that works as a Brazilian civil rights framework for the internet — was signed, the Federal Supreme Court (STF) voted to consider one of its articles partially unconstitutional. Article 19 ruled on platforms’ civil responsibility for content published by third parties (users). The majority of the justices understood that, under the current scenario, the norm wasn't enough to protect fundamental rights and democracy. “There is still a long way for us to understand how this ruling will be operationalized. A new regime regarding platforms’ responsibility established rules for how they shall function until a more robust regulatory legislation is approved. Platforms now have more obligations with content moderation, so the ruling put a new paradigm for us to think of platforms’ accountability and obligations,” Tavares says.


In the context of gender violence online, she also stresses the importance of having a legal definition and concept of what is understood as misogyny to put the Supreme Court's decision into practice. “We want to adapt this decision to the already existing public policies, legislation regarding gender violence to this new digital violence scenario,” she explains. Internetlab’s analysis mentions a rise in proposed bills aiming to criminalize misogynistic behavior and the so-called red pill movement and manosphere , but notes that, although they are an important step to face the problem, choosing criminalization as the main and only solution could limit the efficacy of strategies to prevent and make reparations to victims. Their recommendation regarding AI includes, for instance, creating curriculum guidelines about digital literacy to develop critical analysis of how algorithms, platforms, artificial intelligence tools, and other digital ecosystem elements work. As for the platforms, the note recommends adopting safety measures since the early conception of their projects ( safety by design ), “to prevent the creation and dissemination of this type of content” that mainly targets women and children as victims.


Nonconsensual sexual content deepfakes should be considered an “excessive risk,” with their use and application prohibited, and rules regarding accountability and obligations of digital platforms and AI agents should be established. An estimation by the Movember Foundation, a men’s health organization, points out that two-thirds of young men regularly engage with masculinity influencers online. An article published by UN Women says “experts are finding that the popularity of extreme language in the manosphere not only normalizes violence against women and girls, but has growing links to radicalization and extremist ideologies.” As the election season approaches in Brazil, with cases of AI-generated videos featuring violence against women voters being reported, Tavares believes there are also new layers to think about gender political violence now. “With video production or even chatbots such as Gemini, ChatGPT, or Claude, what we’re seeing is that [AI] will likely be a tool used as a means to have access to information, and there could be gender biases, reproducing gender violence and gender political violence. We’re still trying to figure out the impact it can and will have from now on.”


Brazil opens investigation on Google over its AI’s impact on the journalism industry

The Administrative Council for Economic Defense (Cade) , linked to the Ministry of Justice in Brazil, approved the opening of an administrative process to investigate further Google’s generative AI (Artificial Intelligence) and its use of journalistic content to create automated summaries for searched terms ( AI Overviews ), which could potentially affect the organic traffic of journalistic platforms, their monetization, and engagement. It’s the latest chapter in a case that began in 2019 to “investigate the alleged unlawful use of third parties’ news content in the Google Search and Google News platforms.” Last year, the council invited civil society actors , such as unions, associations, and NGOs, to submit their technical and factual analyses before proceeding with the discussion. Cade aims to “guide, monitor, prevent, and investigate economic power abuse, acting on prevention and repression.” In practice, it operates similarly to the United States’ Federal Trade Commission (FTC) as a competition regulator.


Acting President and Commissioner Diogo Thomson, who voted in favor of opening investigations, considered that the insertion of generative AI functions has “significantly altered the dynamics of access, visibility, and monetization of journalistic content in the digital environment” over the past few years. In this context, he reflected on the possibility that the relationship between Google and publishers “could take on the characteristics of structural dependence” once media outlets increasingly relied on the company’s search engines to reach their audiences. As reported on Cade’s own website , Thomson also asked whether this conduct “ may constitute a potential exploitative abuse of dominance, characterized by the extraction and internalization of economic value from content produced by third parties, without proportional compensation, in a context of asymmetry and the lack of effective alternative arrangements.” Another commissioner, Camila Cabral Pires Alves , who also voted in favor of the investigation, stressed that “Google uses [the material] without prior authorization from the companies that produce the journalistic content,” according to online news outlet G1 .


Brazilian journalism outlet Núcleo explained what the investigation should examine moving forward: One of the measures in the administrative proceedings will be distinguishing between the traditional excerpts shown by Google (known as snippets) and the AI Overviews summaries. Another point to be examined is the zero-click issue, when users simply read a summary and do not click on reference links, cutting off traffic referrals to news outlets — something critically important for journalism. Perhaps even more pointed will be the attempt to estimate the value Google retains from digital advertising compared to the editorial costs news outlets bear to produce journalism. That is one of the key breakthroughs of this proceeding, it will effectively put numbers on something the company has never disclosed. Lastly, CADE will require Google to disclose all of its tests — not just the “selective” conclusions that favor its case. Journalism organizations supported Cade’s decision.


Ajor (Digital Journalism Association) issued a statement calling it “a right step in investigating AI’s impact on journalism”: A balanced relationship between digital platforms and journalism organizations is fundamental to the flourishing of journalism committed to the public interest. By ensuring a fair competitive environment, Cade directly advances that goal. The decision also underscores the urgency of developing remuneration models that recognize journalism’s social function in combating disinformation and that address the appropriation, by digital platforms, of the content and economic value generated by this work. Marcelo Rech, president of the National Newspapers’ Association (ANJ), considered the decision a historical mark, saying: Com o resultado do julgamento, o Cade demonstra que está na linha de frente de uma preocupação que não se limita a uma mera questão econômica. O tema de fundo é a sustentabilidade da informação de qualidade, do jornalismo que atende, sem substitutos, as comunidades locais e a pluralidade de visões, o que é fundamental em sociedades democráticas. With this decision, Cade demonstrates it is at the frontline of a concern not limited to a mere economic issue.


The issue at stake is the sustainability of quality information, of a journalism that answers, without substitutes, to local communities and plural visions, which is fundamental for democratic societies. Responding to a statement published by G1 , one of the main digital news outlets in Brazil, Google said the decision “reflected a mistaken comprehension about how their products work and the value they deliver to news editors”: Em um mundo onde as preferências dos usuários estão evoluindo, o AI Overviews foi projetado para mostrar links para uma ampla variedade de resultados, criando novas oportunidades para que sites relevantes e conteúdos diversos sejam descobertos. Temos um compromisso com a web aberta e continuamos enviando bilhões de cliques para websites diariamente. Seguiremos dialogando com o CADE para esclarecer quaisquer dúvidas sobre o nosso produto In a world where users preferences are evolving, AI Overviews was designed to show links with a wide variety of results, creating new opportunities so relevant websites and diverse content can be discovered.


We have a commitment with open web and we continue to send billions of clicks to websites every day. We will keep talking to Cade to clarify any doubts about our product. I n 2025, Commissioner Gustavo Augusto Freitas de Lima, the case’s rapporteur, recommended archiving the investigation . He argued that the search could also serve as “free advertising” for media companies and that Cade lacked the authority to set remuneration for them, as its role was to analyse anticompetitive practices. Lima also questioned how prohibiting Google from indexing news could contribute to the spread of misinformation and fake news, and how that would operate alongside other platforms such as Facebook and WhatsApp. Lima has since changed his stance to align with Thomson’s view , given the AI’s role in the current context. G1 reports that the process shall now investigate Google’s conduct and its effects on the journalism industry. It can lead to administrative sanctions for economic infringement. Cade hasn’t given a deadline for the investigation yet.


Sub-Saharan Africa: Why do less than 12 percent of Africans have AI access?

While African capitals step up their national AI strategy announcements and tech giants launch their “innovation hubs across the continent , millions of households are still living without reliable electricity . This striking paradox is central to our interview with Togolese IT specialist and internet governance and digital policy expert, Folli Herbert Amouzougan, who is also a shrewd observer of Sub-Saharan Africa’s technological dynamics. Contrary to the enchanting narratives surrounding African “technological advances”, Folli Herbert Amouzougan asks a simple question. Given the current circumstances, can we really imagine artificial intelligence (AI) in a continent where we can’t yet guarantee electricity? Beyond algorithms, connectivity, and even data, there is a lack of electrical wiring. Based on this often-overlooked fundamental reality, he methodically debunks the prevailing optimistic tech narrative, outlining the energy, digital, economic, and linguistic divides that determine the continent’s access to AI. In this candid interview, Folli Herbert Amouzougan questions the responsibilities of states, telecom operators, tech companies, and local civil societies.


Jean Sovon (JS): African governments and leading tech companies announce national AI strategies, innovation hubs, and partnerships with Google and Microsoft, while a large proportion of the population experiences daily power outages . How would you describe the gap between the political rhetoric surrounding AI and the basic infrastructure reality in Sub-Saharan Africa ? Folli Herbert Amouzougan (FHA) : Je qualifierai d'aberrant ce décalage entre les discours politiques sur l'IA et la réalité des infrastructures de base en Afrique subsaharienne. Je pense que ces déclarations sont semblables à un saut dans le vide et qu'il ne sert à rien de mettre la charrue avant les bœufs. Il m'est inconcevable de réaliser n'importe quelle prouesse technologique dans un pays sans assainir et stabiliser le secteur énergétique prioritairement et doter le pays en question d'infrastructures de base (en exemple un réseau électrique efficace, efficient et opérationnel couvrant au moins 95% du territoire). L'on ne peut construire une tour (IA) sans la bonne fondation (infrastructure énergétique et de connectivité). I would say the gap between the political rhetoric surrounding AI and the basic infrastructure reality in Sub-Saharan Africa is untenable. I believe these pronouncements are like leaping into the unknown, and there’s no point getting ahead of ourselves.


Achieving any technological feat in a country without first improving and stabilizing the energy sector and equipping it with basic infrastructure, such as an efficient and functional electricity grid that covers at least 95 percent of the country, is inconceivable to me. You cannot build a tower (AI) without a solid foundation (energy and connectivity infrastructure). Read: A lack of electricity and internet access hinders AI adoption in Sub-Saharan Africa JS: To what extent does the energy divide pose the primary obstacle to substantial AI adoption in this region? FHA : Votre question elle-même pose déjà les bases de la compréhension de la fracture énergétique. J'ai l'habitude de dire qu'il y a des africains entiers jouissant normalement des mêmes droits que vous et moi mais qui n'ont jamais allumé une ampoule électrique toute leur vie et sont morts sans connaître l'électricité. Or utiliser un outil d'IA générative suppose un appareil chargé, une connexion stable, souvent un abonnement payant. Le manque d'accès à l'électricité est le premier verrou puisque toute l'infrastructure de l'IA (si locale) ainsi que les terminaux d'interaction (Smartphones, PC, etc) ainsi que les moyens d'accès (SAT, Internet) sont électricité dépendants!


Sans électricité, il n'y a pas d'Internet, pas de routeurs allumés, pas d'antennes de télécommunications fonctionnelles, …., impossibilité de charger même un seul Smartphone. FHA: Your question lays the groundwork for a better understanding of the energy divide. I often point out that there are entire African populations who typically have the same rights as you and I, but have never switched on an electric lightbulb in their lives, and die without ever experiencing electricity. Yet, using generative AI tools requires a charged device, a stable connection, and often a paid subscription. The lack of electricity access is the primary obstacle, since all AI infrastructure (whether local), interaction devices (smartphones, PCs, etc.), and means of access (SAT, internet) depend on electricity! Without electricity, there’s no internet, no operational routers, no functional telecommunications antennas, and an inability to charge smartphones. JS: Sub-Saharan Africa is often cited as a mobile success story. However, browsing Facebook over 3G is very different from using a Large Language Model (LLM), which requires low latency and sustained bandwidth. Where exactly is the line between “ connected” and “connected for AI,” and how many people on the continent actually cross this threshold?


FHA : Généralement les “connectés” sont en 2G ou 3G et même en ADSL et sont caractérisés par un faible débit et donc des temps de latence élevés et l'utilisation des réseaux sociaux tandis que les “connectés pour l'IA” sont en 4G stable et plus voire en 6G ou encore la fibre optique, la vraie, caractérisés par des débits élevés et des temps de latence faibles, … allant avec la puissance qu'il faut. La frontière n'est pas un seuil technique unique que je peux juste vous donner en guise de réponse mais plutôt la combinaison de plusieurs conditions devant être réunies au même moment. Avant l'IA générative, “nous” (il y a toujours des exclus) jouissions tous du SMS/voix, Web mobile et du Streaming/Vidéo. Mais le challenge aujourd'hui est d'avoir des sessions continues sans coupure alliant streaming, téléversement et possibilité d'interactions en temps réel. Pour ce faire, cette frontière constitue l'ensemble de critères indissociables suivants: débit, latence, stabilité de la connexion (difficile de faire de l'IA générative via ADSL), qualité du terminal utilisé (un vieux Smartphone est un frein), la langue, compte requis ou non et le coût par session.


L'on comprend la raison pour laquelle cette frontière est donc contraignante et exclusive! La langue est un autre facteur important car un utilisateur lambda bien nanti et disposant de tout mais ne parlant que le Guin (langue parlée par le peuple Guin au sud du Togo) de chez moi, se retrouvera face un outil Large Language Model (LLM) qui ne comprend pas son registre de langue et l'on ne peut parler de dialogue ou de communication lorsque le registre de l'un est différent de celui de l'autre. La frontière n'est donc pas une ligne tracée mais un filtre à mailles. Ce qu'il faut retenir dans le contexte Africain est que cette frontière est simultanément technique, économique et linguistique. Je suis tenté de dire que le taux d'Africains qui franchissent réellement ce seuil aujourd'hui sera en dessous de 12% à voir toutes les mailles du filtre à réunir pour passer. Il sera très difficile d'avoir 2 personnes sur 10. FHA: Generally speaking, those “connected” use 2G or 3G, or even ADSL, for social networking and have low bandwidth and high latency.


Whereas those “connected for AI” use stable 4G or even 6G and full-fiber networks, which offer high bandwidth and low latency to meet the processing power requirements. The line isn’t a specific technical threshold I can give you in this answer, but a combination of criteria that must be met simultaneously. Before generative AI, “we” all (there are always exceptions) benefited from SMS/voice, mobile web, and streaming/video. However, today, the challenge is maintaining uninterrupted sessions that incorporate streaming, uploading, and real-time interactions. To that end, this line involves all aspects of the following inextricably linked criteria: bandwidth, latency, connection stability (generative AI is difficult over ADSL), device quality (old smartphones pose an obstacle), language, whether an account is required, and cost per session. It is understandable why this line is so restrictive and exclusive! Language is another key factor: the average well-off, well-equipped user from back home, who only speaks Guin (a language spoken in southern Togo), will encounter a Large Language Model (LLM) tool that doesn’t understand their language register. There can be no dialogue or communication when one’s register is different from another’s.


The line, therefore, isn’t a straight path, but an interconnected filtering system. What we must remember in the African context is that this line is simultaneously technical, economic, and linguistic. I would say the percentage of Africans actually crossing this threshold today is less than 12 percent, given all the criteria they must meet to do so. It will be extremely challenging to find 2 in 10 people. JS: In response to the outages and data costs , adaptations such as offline use, lightweight models, embedded AI on devices, and access via feature phones are emerging. Do these seem like sustainable or stopgap solutions to you that don’t address the problem’s structural causes ? FHA : Solutions durables ou palliatives, tout dépend de l'angle choisi et surtout de la finalité. D'entrée, il faut reconnaître que la durabilité dépend totalement de l'entité qui finance ces adaptations et l'intérêt visé. Dans une démarche évolutive, les approches adaptées (leur utilisation) apportent une valeur ajoutée à leur cible, dans les domaines de l'éducation, de l'agriculture et de la santé par exemple, dans un contexte local sans dépendance d'une infrastructure inexistante.


Mais le danger réside en le fait d'avoir une IA appauvrie en capacité pour les moins nantis alors que les mieux connectés profiteront des pleines capacités et donc des usages plus puissants. Cela met en exergue un accès de second rang. Et cet état de choses ne permet pas ou n'oblige pas les gouvernements qui ne s'inscrivent pas dans une démarche évolutive à s'attaquer aux causes structurelles. FHA: Sustainable or stopgap solutions, it all depends on the approach taken, and especially the aim. First, we must recognize that sustainability depends on the organization funding these adaptations and the intended benefits. Within the scope of progressive initiatives, locally tailored approaches bring added value to their targets in sectors such as education, agriculture, and health, without depending on nonexistent infrastructure. However, the danger lies in AI having reduced capabilities for those less fortunate, while those better connected benefit from its full capabilities and more powerful usage. This underscores the second-tier access. The current state of affairs neither enables nor compels governments that don’t adopt progressive approaches to address the structural causes.


JS: Who’s responsible for making AI accessible in Sub-Saharan Africa, and what practical measures do you expect from each stakeholder? FHA : La responsabilité au sens large est partagée et c'est effectivement ce qui permet à chaque acteur de se dédouaner et de s'accuser mutuellement permettant d'entretenir le statu quo. En réalité, les États ont la pleine responsabilité de l'électrification, de la régulation et de l'institutionnel. Les opérateurs télécoms maintiennent des tarifs data élevés dans des marchés peu concurrentiels, le Togo en est un exemple avec uniquement deux opérateurs de téléphonie mobile. Ils gagneraient en investissant dans les infrastructures en zones rurales et ont pour responsabilité l'accessibilité réseau avec des mécanismes de haute disponibilité alors que les Entreprises d'IA se doivent d'adapter leurs technologies. Elles peuvent par exemple investir dans des modèles multilingues et nouer des partenariats avec des acteurs locaux qui comprennent les enjeux et qui sont capables d'exprimer les contraintes d'usage, au lieu de signer des accords de façades avec des gouvernements pour des “hubs” qui ne profitent réellement qu'à une minorité: les élites et les expatriés.


Les acteurs locaux quant à eux doivent continuer d'innover selon les réalités de terrain et les contextes en proposant des solutions SMART aux problèmes réels. FHA: Broadly speaking, responsibility is shared, which effectively enables each stakeholder to shift the blame and accuse one another, maintaining the status quo. In reality, states have full responsibility for electrification, regulations, and industries. Telecom operators keep data tariffs high in low-competition markets. Togo is the perfect example, with only two mobile phone operators that would benefit from investing in rural infrastructure. They are responsible for network accessibility through high-availability mechanisms, while AI companies are responsible for adapting their technologies. For example, they could invest in multilingual models and develop partnerships with local stakeholders who understand the challenges and can communicate the usage constraints, rather than signing superficial “hub agreements” with governments that would only benefit the minority: the elite and expats. Local stakeholders must continue to innovate in accordance with on-the-ground realities and contexts, offering SMART solutions to real-world problems.


Meta removes Bangladeshi community archivists’ pages through false copyright claims

For the past several months, a coordinated digital campaign has targeted community archivists in Bangladesh who document and preserve audiovisual material related to the July 2024 Student-People’s Mass Uprising , including its history, collective memory, and records of human rights violations. These attacks systematically exploit weaknesses in Meta’s copyright enforcement mechanisms, with the primary objective of removing Facebook pages that host critical documentation of the movement. Despite repeated appeals to Meta by affected community archivists, the responses have been limited and largely ineffective. We spoke with at least three young documentarians through messaging platforms and phone calls. They confirmed that their Facebook pages functioned as informal but highly significant digital archives of this historical moment. A substantial portion of this content is already being used as evidentiary material in proceedings at the Bangladesh International Crimes Tribunal addressing mass violence linked to the July 2024 uprising. Read more: Concerted attacks against Bangladeshi activists on Facebook When copyright strikes are submitted using fake email identities and fabricated claims, Meta removes videos and images without adequate verification or due process.


For many self-organized archivist communities, Facebook has served as their primary platform for public engagement and memory preservation. As a result of Meta’s failure to ensure adequate safeguards, critical documentation is being lost, directly affecting broader transitional justice processes. A vital platform, with coordinated abuse Saleh Mahmud Rayhan, a student involved in the July 2024 uprising, later co-founded the July Revolutionary Alliance (JRA) with a group of his contemporaries. In an interview conducted with Global Voices via Zoom, Rayhan stated that the organization’s mandate includes collecting, preserving, and disseminating videos documenting human rights violations, using Facebook as its primary platform to reach the public. For many young, self-organized communities in Bangladesh — often operating without formal training, technical capacity, or institutional funding — Facebook has become the default infrastructure for documentation and outreach. As the m ost widely used platform among Bangladeshi internet users , it serves not only as a publishing tool but also as a space to amplify victims’ voices and share evidence.


In JRA’s case, these materials have contributed to broader accountability efforts , including ongoing proceedings at the International Crimes Tribunal examining allegations of crimes against humanity, including murder and enforced disappearance, linked to the July 2024 student-led protests. On February 15, 2026, Meta suspended JRA’s main Facebook page, which had approximately 547,000 followers, citing multiple copyright violations. However, the materials shared on the page were user-generated and distributed for non-commercial, public-interest purposes. While JRA does not claim ownership of all content, closer scrutiny suggests that those submitting the copyright complaints were not the rightful owners either. On 22 March, JRA’s backup page, “July Revolutionary Alliance, South Region,” was also suspended on similar grounds. Although the page was later restored after multiple appeals, it remains at risk due to ongoing false claims. A similar pattern affected The Red July , another self-organized community archivist group formed by survivors of the July 2024 uprising that works to document violations and amplify affected voices. The group lost two of its Facebook pages under comparable circumstances.


Sajib Hossain, an administrator of The Red July, stated during a phone call and later provided supporting documentation via WhatsApp messages that the group’s two primary pages — one with approximately 300,000 followers and the other with 125,000, named “The Red July Production”—simultaneously received between eight and ten copyright strikes. As a result, the pages were suspended almost immediately, leaving administrators with insufficient time to respond or implement protective measures. Findings from the investigation indicate that these claims do not appear to constitute legitimate copyright disputes. Instead, individuals are seemingly creating fake email accounts and submitting third-party complaints. Meta appears to accept these claims without sufficient verification, resulting in the removal of content, including materials originally published by the communities themselves. Automated appeal mechanisms have so far provided limited effective remedies. Meta’s failure to safeguard the affected pages Both organizations report a consistent pattern of targeted harassment. They describe receiving explicit threats from cyber groups aligned with political actors connected to ongoing trials for crimes against humanity.


These threats often demand the removal of posts related to political figures, including former Bangladesh Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina . A Facebook page named “Network-71” publicly declared its intention to remove content from The Red July. Similarly, accounts using the names “ Mahir Chowdhury ” and “ Nadim Chowdhury ” issued public threats to take down posts related to the July 2024 uprising. Shortly after such warnings, waves of false copyright claims are reportedly submitted from anonymous or unverified email accounts targeting the same content. In several cases, individuals publicly announce intended takedowns, issue threats, and later share screenshots celebrating successful removals. See here and here . These posts, often accompanied by celebratory or abusive language, suggest deliberate and coordinated misuse of platform reporting systems. Despite these clear indicators, including prior threats and synchronized reporting, Meta has not taken effective action to identify or prevent this pattern of abuse. Saleh Mahmud Rayhan described how one account sent direct messages warning that specific posts had to be removed or the entire page would be taken down.


Within two days, around seven posts were targeted with false claims. Meta accepted the claims, removed the posts, and subsequently suspended the page. JRA representatives later contacted individuals whose names had been used in the complaints. Those individuals confirmed that they had not submitted any copyright claims, indicating that their identities may have been misused through fabricated email accounts. Rayhan emphasized that these removals resulted in the loss of critical visual evidence documenting human rights violations during the uprising. A recurring tactic of digital repression in Bangladesh The use of copyright claims to suppress political opponents is not new in Bangladesh. Rather, it appears to have become a recurring method used to restrict critical voices online. In 2022, independent news site Netra News reported that groups linked to the then- Awami League -led government were involved in hacking critics’ Facebook accounts. Around the same period, separate reporting documented how a hacker group took down Amar Desh Online , a media outlet critical of the government, through the use of false copyright claims.


Read more: Bangladesh: Meta accuses ruling party and think tank of coordinated inauthentic behavior Recent incidents suggest that similar tactics are now being used more broadly: not only against political opponents, but also against human rights groups, investigative journalists, and fact-checking initiatives. One example involves The Dissent , a Bangladesh-based investigative and fact-checking platform that has been targeted by fake copyright claims. The publication’s editor, Qadaruddin Shishir , stated in an interview that several of their reports, including fact-checks of AI-generated images, were removed from Facebook after being flagged for alleged copyright violations. Despite the content being originally produced by their own reporters, Shishir noted that these complaints originated from unverifiable email addresses but were nonetheless accepted by Meta Platforms, Inc. without meaningful scrutiny. These fraudulent tactics have affected a broad spectrum of voices, with activists and journalists among the primary targets. The reach of these claims has extended to the former interim government’s official advisory pages , the social media accounts of the Head of Government, and memorial tributes to slain activist Osman Hadi .


The system’s lack of scrutiny was further highlighted when original materials, including a journalist’s own photography, were erroneously flagged as infringing and removed from the platform. In several cases, coordinated groups have openly claimed responsibility for these takedowns. Groups identifying themselves as “Crack Platoon, Bangladesh Cyber Force,” “Dark Cyber Gang,” and “Qawmi Cyber Expert Team” have publicly stated that they use copyright reporting tools to remove pages and accounts, and have shared evidence of these actions online. Platform failure and an accountability gap These incidents point to significant weaknesses in Meta’s copyright enforcement processes. The lack of effective verification appears to allow coordinated actors to misuse reporting systems to target activists, archivists, and journalists. This issue extends beyond routine content moderation concerns. The removal of such content affects the ability to document events, share information, and preserve records that may be relevant to accountability processes. Without stronger safeguards — including improved verification, greater transparency in decision-making, and accessible appeal mechanisms — these practices are likely to continue, with broader implications for digital rights and public-interest documentation in Bangladesh.


AI hype narrative reaches the public healthcare system in El Salvador

Since the beginning of his presidency, Nayib Bukele has presented himself and his government as a force of innovation. In 2021, El Salvador approved the Bitcoin Law, becoming the first country to adopt Bitcoin as legal tender . This regulation was reformed in 2025 , following pressure from the International Monetary Fund regarding Bitcoin adoption risks , at which point the text approved by the Legislative Assembly made the use of the cryptocurrency voluntary rather than mandatory. Modernizing public sector processes and services through artificial intelligence (AI) has become another important aspect of the Bukele’s administration’s promotion. In 2023, El Salvador’s government signed an agreement with Google under which the tech company was tasked with supporting the country’s public sector digital transformation. In 2024, Google opened a new office in El Salvador dedicated to providing these services. A similar agreement was signed in late 2025 with xAI to launch Grok for Education, an initiative expected to reach 5,000 schools and over one million children.


In April 2026, while promoting the SovAI Summit , a conference held in El Salvador for those who do not want to be “left behind in regulatory stagnation,” Stacy Herbert, Director of El Salvador’s National Bitcoin Office , stated in a post on X that the country is “the World’s AI Sandbox.” She argued that “while the rest of the world builds regulatory walls around AI, El Salvador chose a bolder path: fully integrating it into a national strategy for rapid human progress,” referring to the country's regulatory framework advancing the use of AI. Narrative: With the support of AI, El Salvador is building the best public healthcare system in the world That same month, in the vein of integrating AI for “rapid human progress,” El Salvador’s government announced the launch of the second phase of DoctorSV, a telemedicine app initially set in motion in 2025 with the support of the Development Bank of Latin America and the Caribbean (CAF) and Google.


In an address to the nation , Bukele — together with Guy Nae, Public Sector Head of Google Cloud SpLatam; Edgardo Von Euw, a physician specializing in the public sector and AI application; Stella Aslibekyan, who has a PhD in epidemiology; and Pablo Bartol, Social and Human Development Manager at CAF — pushed the narrative that the public healthcare system his government is building with the help of AI is uniquely improving the healthcare sector and will become a reference for the rest of the world. Von Euw argued that the AI assistant integrated into the telemedicine app will help identify chronic disease risks by analyzing medical records via a questionnaire that patients will answer, automatically creating orders for lab analysis without the need for an in-person doctor’s appointment. He added that once the lab results come back, the AI assistant will provide a diagnostic classification to the doctor, who can assist through the app. He also explained that by sending messages and scheduling calls for the doctors, the AI assistant will help ensure patients follow up on their treatments. Bukele described the tech as “a person” dedicated to ensuring that each Salvadoran adheres to their treatment, something he argued even the private sector cannot offer. Efficiency is directly tied to AI under this narrative.


Bukele has repeatedly referred to the time Salvadorans would save thanks to it, while Von Euw claimed that this would be the first system in the world to integrate AI “horizontally” from beginning to end — something Bukele suggested not even developed countries are doing at the moment. It is also a narrative asserted by both local and media outlets supportive of Bukele, including Diario El Salvador and Colombian magazine Revista Semana . Likewise, it has been shared in The Lancet, a peer-reviewed general medical journal, in a publication arguing that “El Salvador's program offers a replicable model for efforts seeking to leverage the potential of AI to enhance healthcare delivery in resource-constrained settings,” expectations likewise communicated by the CAF . The context surrounding the narrative Meanwhile, doctors and healthcare workers point to the progressive deterioration of the public healthcare system, with insufficient coverage, deficiencies in care quality, shortages of medical supplies, and a lack of transparency in health policy — which, they argue, adversely affect both healthcare professionals and the general population. Bukele’s administration has been firing large numbers of public healthcare workers, with more than 7,700 reported layoffs in 2025 .


Rafael Aguirre, secretary of the Union of Doctors of Social Security Workers (SIMETRISSS), and Iván Solano, president of the Medical College, have also warned of a potential shift toward privatization with the 2025 Law for Creating the National Hospital Network — a regulation they argue increases the concentration of power within the executive branch, and potentially tighter control over health workers. In response to the announcement of the second phase of DoctorSV, Aguirre argued that lack of face-to-face interaction limits comprehensive clinical evaluation, potentially leading to errors or delays in the detection of complications. Managing chronic illnesses, he noted, effectively depends on direct doctor monitoring and regular evaluation of the patient’s medical history. In an interview with the BBC , Solano stated, “We don't disagree with DoctorSV; what we don't think is right is that this platform is given preferential treatment, both in budget and supplies.” At the same time, he recognized that for some Salvadorans, the app might be an immediate solution. Solano also expressed concerns about the funding scheme behind the app, as the resources come from a loan rather than from sustainable, long-term public funds. Aguirre added that with the launch of this app, El Salvador has become a “testing lab” once more, just as it was with Bitcoin.


Cybersecurity experts have cautioned that “there is still not enough information to guarantee that the tool will adequately safeguard citizens’ medical records.” In the past, privacy has been an issue with other government-backed apps in El Salvador. In 2021, businesspeople, journalists, and human rights activists reported that their personal data was being used without their authorization in El Chivo Wallet. Government institutions were also hacked several times in 2024 . In his national address, Bukele highlighted what he considers his government’s positive reputation regarding security policies, to hint at the reputational impact of the launch of the AI-assisted healthcare system. Reflecting on its potential to make the country a reference for the region and the world, he linked the AI hype to his administration’s claims of proven success. There have been attempts to replicate and celebrate the government’s security policy — supported by a 2022 State of Exception that is still in effect — for its rapid results, but it is being widely questioned for alleged human rights violations , including the use of Pegasus spyware to track journalists .


New tech, new rules: Narrative and civil society in the age of AI and algorithms

Technology such as Artificial Intelligence (AI) and algorithm-driven platforms is having unprecedented impacts on almost every aspect of life, from academia to employment to the environment. When it comes to social justice, democracy and human rights, things look bleak: algorithms are channeling us into ideological echo-chambers, while AI has taken surveillance and data extraction to alarming new levels. At the same time, social media platforms enable civil society organizations to reach audiences and tell stories in powerful new ways, while AI allows people to do research and message testing they would never otherwise be able to afford. As part of a recent project called “New Tech, New Rules,” the International Resource for Impact and Storytelling (IRIS) , with support from Luminate and the Open Society Foundations , commissioned 10 case studies from organizations and researchers across the Global Majority, to hear how this new technology is affecting them and their work, and how they are adapting and adjusting.


The studies came from across Latin America and the Caribbean, the Arab region, Nigeria, Tunisia, India and Hong Kong. Each case study is incredibly rich and interesting in itself (and some of their authors are writing about them for Global Voices) — but, looking across them, we were able to discern several interesting patterns that perhaps resonate and offer lessons for others. A toolkit of tactics: Co-opting, countering and innovating Across the case studies, we saw three clear ways in which civil society is responding to the tech-infused authoritarian context: through Co-opting, Countering and Innovating. Some organizations are co-opting culture and technology for their own purposes: for example, Fogo Cruzado in Brazil is collaborating with the UK-based Future Narratives Lab to use AI to test messages aimed at reducing public support for police violence in favelas. Others are focused on countering and resisting tech-driven surveillance and digital violence, such as Derechos Digitales , which is using social media to campaign and mobilise opposition against the widespread use of facial recognition technologies by authorities in Brazil and Chile.


Still others are innovating, finding new forms and approaches to journalism and to narrative civic engagement. An example of the former is Alharaca , a group of feminist journalists from El Salvador working in exile and experimenting with getting offline and slowing down rather than giving in to the tech-driven pressure to speed up. They are bringing audience members together in person and trying out new storytelling approaches, such as board games and immersive sound installations. When it comes to civil society, activists in Hong Kong are adapting to pervasive AI-driven surveillance by using humor, embedding meaning in seemingly innocuous terminology and working through short-lived, temporary organizations. Of course, co-opting technology, countering it, and innovating in the face of it are not mutually exclusive. Fogo Cruzado’s co-optation of the research possibilities AI offers is, of course, hugely innovative. It is only through narrative and organizational innovation that activists in places like Hong Kong and Tunisia are able to counter and resist state repression.


Nevertheless, they are also distinct approaches, and we believe this trio of tactics serves as a potentially useful menu for organizations to consider as they navigate our current moment. From the hyperlocal to the transnational Several of the case studies foreground a turn to the hyperlocal as a way to prioritize grassroots issues and voices sidelined by national media and politics, as well as to sidestep the scrutiny of authorities mostly focused on the national stage. Shifting the frame from one that places national politics in the center, what was previously thought of as marginal becomes central: hyperlocal stories, news and politics are where it’s at. This is where politics intersects with people’s lives, where connection and power-building can happen outside of surveilled tech platforms, where issues intersect, where audiences and media creators overlap, and where change seems possible. At the same time, there is a turn to the supra-national, looking at trends and connecting the dots of political developments beyond the nation-state, and as a way of sharing lessons and building cross-border solidarity.


Just as authoritarians connect and learn from one another across borders, just as technology knows no borders, so civil society actors realize they need to connect across boundaries and borders to make meaning and build power. Flexibility is everything In a fast-changing environment, where techno-authoritarianism is both continually innovating and intentionally disrupting and overwhelming, being flexible and adaptable is an essential strategy. While this is apparent across all of the case studies, perhaps the clearest example comes from Hong Kong, where the case study authors highlight the importance of ephemeral infrastructures that can appear, dissolve and reappear or reconfigure themselves as needed. These arrangements — micro-groups, informal collectives, rotating convenors, volunteer networks — sustain momentum while avoiding singular points of vulnerability. This is also a really important lesson for funders to note – both resilience and impact depend on the ability to anticipate and pivot at short notice, and funding arrangements need to build this in. It takes a constellation No single organization can do everything; no one can achieve systemic impact acting alone.


As our case studies illustrate, robust, decentralized and collaborative networks are necessary, both within countries and across borders. Narrative workers and civil society actors are actively forming alliances and seeking assistance and expertise from organizations and peers from beyond their fields to bolster their narrative efforts, strengthen their advocacy campaigns, and guard themselves against digital attacks and surveillance. Funding strategies in turn should proactively support what the Polis Project calls “the infrastructure of resistance.” The interconnectedness of narrative, technology and power Across the 10 case studies, we see three elements in constant interaction, each inseparable from the others: narrative, technology and politics. Civil society actors are narrative workers: narrative is upstream of technology, and culture and meaning-making constitute THE key terrain of struggle right now. They are technologists: operating with, on and through current and emergent technology to build power and engage in the struggle over culture, narrative and meaning, constantly adapting and innovating, always balancing technology’s possibilities and affordances with its risks, limitations and harms.


They are political actors, organizers and power-builders: making meaning both about and with technology, in the interests of social justice and democracy. Overall, while the surveillance, abuses, and huge concentrations and imbalances of power that AI and other new technologies enable are very worrying, we found a good deal of encouragement in these case studies. Operating in hostile territory, using tools owned by so-called “ broligarchs ” and authoritarians, social justice-focused advocates and activists, journalists and storytellers around the world are successfully adapting and employing technology and culture to build people power in the interests of democracy and social justice. Brett Davidson is founder and principal at Wingseed LLC , and works with the International Resource for Impact and Storytelling (IRIS) as lead for narrative infrastructure building. Previously he was Director of Media and Narratives at the Open Society Public Health Program, and before that worked in civil society and a radio journalist in South Africa. He writes about narrative change and listening as a political act.


Human rights concerns abound over China’s ‘state secrets’ regulation in the Uyghur region

The “ Regulations on the Protection of State Secrets in the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region ,” (新疆维吾尔自治区保守国家秘密条例), which took effect on March 1, 2026, is a de facto local extension of China’s national state secrecy framework. In a region characterized by high levels of security governance and information control, the legal adjustments have significant consequences on the normalization and codification of political repression in the region. The Uyghurs are a native people of the Uyghur region in northwestern China, or Xinjiang. They have a distinct language, ethnicity, and culture that differ from those of the Han people, who represent over 91 percent of China’s population. Following the July 2009 protests in Urumqi, the Chinese government implemented strict control in the region in the name of counterterrorism , while international human rights organizations criticized China for its crackdown and repressive measures , including reports of mass detention, forced disappearances , extensive surveillance systems, and restrictions on religious and cultural life.


Many countries have codified the protection of state secrets. However, particularly in Western democracies, such legislation generally aims to prevent the leaking of sensitive information about government and military institutions that could harm national security. By contrast, China’s state secrecy framework, updated in 2024 , extends the definition of “state secrets” to political, economic, technological, and social information considered relevant to national stability. In the Uyghur region, this expansive approach to secrecy becomes especially significant because issues connected to everyday life — including religious practices, cultural expression , communication patterns, and other forms of social behavior — increasingly fall within the scope of security governance and information control. The Uyghur extension of Chinese national law would, therefore, be detrimental, as it has embedded information control within its pre-existing social governance system, thereby bringing surveillance into the everyday life of the Uyghur region. The Uyghur extension of China's national secrecy law While the national law provides an overarching legal framework for protecting state secrets, the Uyghur version details enforcement, technological surveillance, and geographic controls tailored to the region’s unique security priorities.


In terms of objectives, the local version places maintaining social stability in Xinjiang as a national security issue and adds a specific mandate to “forge a strong sense of community for the Chinese nation” (Article 3). This implies that local policies that undermine Uyghurs’ ethnic identity, cultural, and religious rights could be justified under the regional secrecy law. The law introduces the new legal concept of “work secrets” (Article 64), which requires government and work units to formulate their own “work secret list” (Article 43) and introduce internal systems to prevent leakage. This further extends the realm of secrecy. As for the law’s enforcement, the Uyghur region’s regulation places a heavier emphasis on mobilizing grassroots organizations, work units, and community-level actors to protect state secrets (Article 8). Grassroots party branches are required to designate liaison officers to handle matters related to secrecy, including public reports of suspicious activities, such as espionage, theft of state secrets, and the disclosure of secrets through books, social media posts, and other channels (Article 39). This creates a more socially embedded system of information control, as the identification, monitoring, and reporting of “sensitive” information are integrated into everyday social management.


The technological scale of control over sensitive information is also expanded, as the regional law explicitly promotes the use of AI and big data to monitor information flows and protect state secrets (Article 10). Moreover, it mandates a “prevention and control” system maintained through collaboration among the local government, the Xinjiang Production and Construction Corps, and the military (Article 12). This strengthens the unique militarized governance structure’s power to control information flow in the region. P oliticization of information Under the current stability control system, governance in the Uyghur region relies heavily on digital surveillance and data integration , including large-scale data collection, algorithmic risk assessment, and real-time monitoring systems, as much research has highlighted. The extensive definition of “state secrets” and “work secrets,” coupled with a grassroots reporting mechanism and an AI-powered monitoring system, makes information dissemination and interpersonal communication subject to security evaluation and thus risky. External information flows, such as speaking with overseas media outlets or foreigners, are even more precarious. Rather than responding to illegal acts, the information-based security governance increasingly focuses on identifying and managing perceived future risks.


This strengthens the pre-existing preventive control system in the name of counter-terrorism that legitimizes state intervention, such as the so-called “ re-education camps ” or “ vocational trainings ,” targeting Uyghur communities’ cultural behaviors, associations, religious practices, communication patterns, and other acts considered potentially sensitive. As information management and monitoring are embedded in the core of Uyghur security governance, individuals become uncertain about what information can be safely shared, resulting in self-censorship as a social norm. These dynamics contribute to what some researchers describe as a “structure of silence,” in which information becomes progressively harder to access — not only because it is restricted, but also because it is never publicly expressed in the first place. Impact on human rights debates International debates about the situation in the Uyghur region often focus on detention policies, religious restrictions, demographic changes, and systems of surveillance. Some governments and researchers alleged that the Chinese repressive policy targeting the Uyghur communities had amounted to “ crimes against humanity ” or “ genocide ,” while others reject these descriptions.


However, these debates depend heavily on the availability of information, and the newly enacted regional state secrecy law makes it more difficult to access or share related information. Claims presented by human rights organizations or international media outlets will become harder to verify as the space for investigation has shrunk. Human rights debates and disagreements will thus become more politically entrenched. In this sense, secrecy laws do not only regulate information — they shape the conditions under which international human rights discussions take place. The significance of the Uyghur region’s “state secrets” regulation lies not only in its legal wording but in how it functions within a broader governance system, i.e., how secrecy functions within a highly securitized political environment. In such a context, the boundaries between information management, surveillance, and social control become increasingly blurred. Ultimately, the regulation raises broader questions about the relationship between information, governance, and human rights. When access to information becomes more restricted, the space for transparency, independent verification, and public accountability becomes narrower as well.


The human cost of the data center push in Latin America

Data centers are largely invisible behemoths that power today’s digital age. The facilities are made up of huge warehouses that house servers and other IT infrastructure necessary to process the so-called new oil : data. With the current boom in generative artificial intelligence (AI), the demand for data centers is projected to rise exponentially, around 20 percent every year until 2030, says UNDP . This urgent demand for data centers has been driven by AI and tech companies, which have been aggressively lobbying different governments and pushing narratives that this technology will drive economic growth and progress. As a result, data centers are emerging in regions where they were not historically prioritized, particularly in the Global South. As UNDP mentions , within Latin America and the Caribbean, for example, digital infrastructure is concentrated in just a handful of countries and is mostly privately owned and backed by US investment groups. Steven Gonzalez Monserrate , ethnographic researcher of cloud infrastructures and author of the book “Cloud Ecologies,” calls this process “Terraforming,” changing Earth and the specific way humans live to accommodate computers.


He explains: We are seeing again the flow of resources these data centers produce to the global north through Western companies. This way, they are entrenching inequalities and creating new colonialism. They are taking land. They are taking natural resources. They might not themselves be countries, but they are behaving like states. Google and Amazon are increasingly behaving like states. They are spending a lot of money to influence politicians. They are spending a lot of money on building infrastructure for their workers and creating these little enclaves within countries for their workers. Indeed, in one investigation, “ Big Tech’s Invisible Hand ” by Centro Latinoamericano de Investigación Periodística (CLIP), together with Agência Pública and 15 media partners, found that tech executives held thousands of meetings with government officials from around the world between 2012 and 2025. And, among the matters discussed, AI, data centers, tech infrastructure, energy, taxes, and government regulation took the center stage — especially in Latin American countries such as Brazil, Chile, Mexico, and Argentina. Data centers nearly always affect nearby communities , and the impact is rarely positive .


This is because the facilities generally require substantial energy, land, and water resources , and those built specifically to sustain generative AI even more so . These immense demands have already overwhelmed countries in the Global North. So how are countries in the Global South faring? Particularly those with lower GDPs, which already struggle with infrastructure challenges, water shortages, and electric grid management. In this cross-border, collaborative article, Global Voices is sharing stories from several countries in Latin America where communities are pushing back against AI-driven data center development. Find a collaborative piece on how AI development is affecting communities in Asia here . The cost of data centers According to the Data Center Map , Brazil has 206 data centers from 34 markets, leading the Latin America ranking. The federal government has implemented a National Data Center Policy and estimates USD 3 trillion in investments in this sector over the next five years. Officials have also introduced a special tax scheme to incentivize new enterprises to invest in data centers.


“Brazil needs a clear policy to attract data centers,” said Márcio Elias Rosa, minister of Development, Industry and Commerce, in an interview with the EBC , a state-owned Brazilian media group, in April. “We must be careful when doing a policy to incentivize attracting data centers with the need to be compatible with environmental issues. Because a data center consumes a lot of energy and hydric resources, water for refrigeration.” One of the most striking examples of how these incentives can disadvantage surrounding communities is the “AI City” project, which will be launched in Eldorado do Sul, Brazil, by Scala , a company that already operates data centers in Brazil, Chile, and Mexico. Eldorado in Rio Grande do Sul was one of the cities devastated by a historic flood in 2024 , in the southernmost state of Brazil. The floods are considered the worst climate disaster ever recorded in the state, as an estimated 90 perc ent of its territory was underwater for days. Residents remain terrified that the disaster could repeat itself, as flooding is an annual reality in the region, even in less severe years.


The project was first announced in 2024, and once complete, Scala’s venture will be the largest data center in Latin America . This structure is estimated to occupy an area of 7 million square meters and cost at least USD 50 billion. Ambiental Media published an exclusive story in March 2026 reporting that the state government agreed to simplify the environmental licensing process to push project permits through “in the shortest time possible.” The outlet also stated that, by simplifying it, “the company is not required to do an Environmental Impact Study (EIA), nor public hearings.” The Ministry for Mining and Energy authorized access to 1.8 GigaWatts of power, which equals the energy consumed by a city with 6 million inhabitants. Representatives from the energy sector and tech companies are pressuring the federal government to introduce more incentives. A study by IDEC (Consumers’ Defense Institute) entitled “We are not data centers’ backyard,” analyzed cases in Latin America to find a scenario of “communities running out of water, pricier electric bills and projects approved without consulting the population.”


The document stresses the need for effective and clear regulation policies to limit the expansion of projects that could bring social and environmental threats: A ausência de diretrizes robustas pode contribuir para a reprodução de modelos de desenvolvimento que geram impactos socioambientais significativos, os quais, conforme apontado por diferentes levantamentos e estudos recentes, tendem a se concentrar em países do Sul Global, como o Brasil, em razão de marcos regulatórios menos restritivos. The absence of robust guidelines could contribute to reproducing developmental models that generate significant social-environmental impacts, which, as reported by numerous reports and studies recently, tend to concentrate in Global South countries, such as Brazil, due to less restrictive regulatory marks. Developments in Chile, Uruguay, and Argentina In 2017, there were six data center projects in Chile. In 2026, there will be 66 . In Argentina, there are currently 42 data centers , and in Uruguay, 10 . The tech giants that are caught in the AI race, Microsoft, Amazon, Google, and to some extent, Oracle, are all investing in data centers in Latin America.


Steven Gonzalez Monserrate, who is researching the environmental and political impact of data centers, said in an interview with Global Voices that when tech companies approach politicians , they often offer glamorous promises to local authorities and communities about job creation, economic gains, and technological advancements. As Monserrate explains: Think of data centers as the future. They think of computers and A.I. This is the future. And why would you want to stop the future? And that’s kind of the narrative. But very few people actually understand how these work. And the mayor doesn’t understand how the data center works. They just see dollar signs, and they get really excited, and they want to have an economic incentive. But in reality, AI data centers do not bring that many economic rewards to local economies. Once they’re built, most require a dozen or a few dozen people to operate, rather than the thousands politicians envision. They also consume vast amounts of utilities: energy, water, and land. This strains local infrastructure, raises electricity prices, and can even create shortages — particularly in times of scarcity, such as the one caused by oil shortages from the US’s war on Iran.


Moreover, because they have to function 24/7, 365 days a year, operators are now relying on diesel or gas backup generators, which create air pollution. In addition, they create noise pollution, which can stress communities and create mental and physical problems for nearby residents. Gonzales says: Most data centers have air chiller units on top of the facility. And those air chillers make a loud kind of rattling, humming noise. And since the data center doesn't stop running, it’s a constant operation, you’re going to get that noise constantly. And there’s been a number of really compelling studies on the effects of noise pollution over time on human bodies. Some of those effects are psychological, but they affect your sense of well-being: anxiety, high blood pressure, and stress. Communities are right to be concerned about the introduction of new data centers. An investigation by Amenaza Roboto, produced in partnership with the Pulitzer Center’s AI Accountability Network, found that the environmental impact goes beyond water and electricity usage. Using 25 years of NASA satellite data, reporters found that a data center operated by Antel, Uruguay’s state telecommunications company, creates a heat island visible in satellite imagery, raising temperatures measurably above the surrounding area.


Google is currently building a data center just 11 kilometers away that will be five times larger than the Antel center, yet the environmental impact assessment made no mention of the heat island effect. Community resistance In Chile and Uruguay, local communities actually managed to stop Google from building two data centers — at least temporarily. In February 2024, local residents and activists in the town of Cerrillos, on the outskirts of Santiago, Chile’s capital, stopped Google from building a data center , preventing it from using water to cool its servers. They took the issue to the environmental court, which partially blocked Google’s permit (issued in 2020), preventing it from building a data center in the town. The court urged the tech giant to revise its application and consider the environmental impact. Google had announced it would modify the cooling system to use less than the planned 169 liters of water per second. However, following the court decision, it suspended the project and a USD 40 million investment in what would have been the country’s second data center.


The other, built in 2015 and still operating, is situated in Quilicura , on the outskirts of Santiago. At the time of writing this article, there was no news about whether Google would resume construction. Droughts have affected various regions of Chile over a 40-year period, from 1979 to 2019. Furthermore, northern Chile is one of the driest regions in the world, and the central region, which is home to 70 percent of the national population, has had a permanent water deficit since 2010. In 2023, in the midst of Uruguay’s worst drought in 74 years, Google bought 29 hectares (72 acres) of land to build a data center in the Canelones department, in southern Uruguay, reported The Guardian. This data center would have used 7.6 million liters of water per day to cool its servers, equivalent to the daily domestic use of 55,000 people. The water would come directly from the public drinking water system. Public anger remained widespread , and citizens blamed the country’s economic policy, saying that more than 80 percent of water goes to industry. Google had paused the construction shortly after it started in 2023.


It is still listed as “under construction” on Google’s data centers web page. However, the construction was approved after Google agreed to change the cooling system to an air conditioning-based method, rather than water-based. “Protests by civil society achieved important changes in the Google project, which was initially going to use large quantities of water.” However, the new plan “has been approved under time pressure, making it hard to assess its impacts,” said Ana Filippini, from the Movement for a Sustainable Uruguay (MOVUS) . Argentina is grappling with its own data center conundrum as it struggles to balance ecological preservation, with fear around missing out on the AI race. The Stargate Argentina project was announced by OpenAI CEO Sam Altman (via video appearance) and Argentina’s President, Javier Milei, in October 2025 as a historical milestone. Indeed, while Open AI would not build or sustain the planned data center itself, the tech giant promised to invest (or rather, as Buenos Aires Times points out), agreed to purchase everything produced by the data center, which would be built by the local company.


However, experts warn that Argentina does not yet have a regulatory framework tailored to the installation and operation of large-scale data centers. In practice, the only applicable regulation is the Incentive Regime for Large Investments (RIGI), which offers tax, customs, and financial benefits to attract capital. While this regime may attract investments, it does not address key issues such as environmental safeguards, water use, energy consumption, or long-term planning. Patagonia is seen as an attractive location because of its energy resources, including natural gas and renewable sources such as hydropower and wind energy. But there are many environmental concerns. Overall, Neuquén province appears to be among the most favorable locations for initial deployment, given its growing shale gas industry and clean energy assets. But data centers require significant amounts of water, especially for cooling systems. In regions like Neuquén, water scarcity is already an issue and is expected to worsen with climate change. Communities in the region have raised alarms about cumulative environmental impacts. They point to existing problems linked to oil and gas extraction , such as spills, contamination, and insufficient infrastructure.


Ethiopian TikTok grieves a popular creator. Are TikTok and Meta complicit in her death?

Content notice: This article contains mentions of suicide and depression, which some readers may find disturbing. Boni, an Ethiopian content creator who spoke to her audience on TikTok in the Afan Oromo language, died by suicide on April 29, 2026. That day, she posted a farewell message in Afan Oromo on her Facebook account — “ Nagaatti Yaa biyya lafa,” (Goodbye, world), followed five minutes later by a video on TikTok and Facebook, captioned “I said it, it is over,” in which she stated her intent on camera with imagery of the means visible in frame. That video has since been viewed and shared millions of times through stitches (videos where a creator reacts to another’s video, thereby creating new content), reposts, and reactions on TikTok and other platforms; both the farewell post and the video remain on Facebook at the time of writing this article. Neither platform’s automated detection systems flagged the content before Boni’s death.


In the days since, much of the public conversation across Ethiopian TikTok has focused on whether her audience or her circumstances were to blame for her death. However, the question that has received less attention — arguably the more pressing one — is what TikTok and Meta, the company that owns Facebook and Instagram, did and did not do at each stage of a sequence their own published policies were written to interrupt. A creator with a community, on a platform with rules Boni had built a following speaking primarily in Afan Oromo, one of Ethiopia’s most widely spoken languages, on a platform that markets multilingual moderation as a core capability. She was pregnant at the time of her death. According to creators familiar with her work, in the months before her death, she had become a target of recurring online harassment. That harassment was not a vague phenomenon. It was content, hosted on TikTok. In one widely circulated video, a younger creator — visible only as a voice off-camera — prompts an elderly man , on camera, to repeat his wishes against Boni.


He participates willingly: wishes for her death, excitement over her eventual funeral, a hope that her pregnancy ends in miscarriage, and other curses. Boni herself drew attention to the video by responding to it on her own account. Visibly tired, she told her followers she had no power to stop this kind of hate and asked them to watch the original and judge for themselves. The content was a clear violation of TikTok’s Hate and Harassment policy , which prohibits “wishing death on a named user.” Yet, it remained online. Boni’s response was itself a user-safety signal — a creator publicly surfacing content that violated platform policy, in plain language, while showing distress and resignation. TikTok still did not act on the underlying videos. What TikTok’s policies promised, and what they didn’t deliver In Boni’s case, none of these mechanisms produced a result before harm occurred. The black-background farewell text was not flagged. Her farewell speech in Afan Oromo was not flagged. The visible imagery — exactly the kind of signal TikTok and Meta’s image classifiers are explicitly trained to detect — was not flagged.


The combination, marketed by both platforms as the strongest signal of intent, was not flagged. The five-minute window between her goodbye post and the announcement video was a textbook escalation pattern, during which a functional safety system was supposed to intervene. Neither platform’s system did. After Boni’s death, TikTok removed the announcement videos from her account. That removal is, by the platform’s own action, an admission: the content always violated policy. The classifiers that took the videos down after she died were available before she died. But removal-after-death has not contained the harm. Across TikTok, other accounts are continuing to stitch, react to, and re-upload the same videos that TikTok has removed from Boni’s page; the cumulative reach across all these copies runs into the millions. The recommendation system continues to deliver this content — Boni’s voice, her image, her last moments — into the “For You” feeds of users who never followed her, including, in all likelihood, her family and friends. TikTok has used industrial hash-matching technology for years to suppress terrorism content, copyrighted music, and child sexual abuse material at upload time.


It is choosing not to use it in this context, or its deployment is silently failing. The harassment videos that targeted her, meanwhile, still remain available. The same video, hosted on Facebook While TikTok has at least reacted post hoc, Meta has not. As of this writing, both Boni’s farewell post and the announcement video she posted five minutes later — content TikTok now classifies as too harmful to host — remain on Facebook. The video is here : Meta’s systems did not act before her death, and Meta has not acted since. Meta’s Community Standards on Suicide, Self-Injury, and Eating Disorders contain a near-identical prohibition. Meta has spent years publicly emphasizing proactive AI detection in dozens of languages. Both companies participate in industry forums for sharing signals on suicide-related content across competing platforms. None of these mechanisms produced a removal. The same content, in the same language, with the same visual signals, is now hosted on the products of two different corporations, both of which have published rules saying they would not allow it.


When platforms expand into a market and harvest users’ attention without staffing the moderation pipeline at parity, harm intensifies, and risk becomes concrete. Ethiopia, with more than 100 million people across multiple major languages, is one of those markets that social media giants are happy to profit from, but unwilling to invest in effective moderation strategies. Moving beyond the platforms Ethiopian TikTok has not been silent. Major creators have weighed in publicly. Adonay , one of the largest creators in this space, has placed responsibility on bullies, haters, and jealousy among Boni’s audience. Other widely circulated response videos, including from creators @thisday013 and @abebayehuassefatkursew , have pushed back: don’t blame the audience; consider her circumstances, her unmet expectations, her life. These two camps appear to be at odds. They share a hidden assumption that Boni’s death was caused by one side of the screen or the other: Either her followers or disappointments in Boni’s life. In neither version do the platforms appear as actors.


Yet the harassment Adonay describes was hosted on TikTok in violation of TikTok’s own rules; the “circumstances” the response creators ask viewers to consider include a platform that ignored a distressed creator’s stitch, missed her announcement, removed her content too late, and then allowed it to be re-uploaded across other accounts. Online bullying, jealousy, and rivalry are not new and not specific to TikTok. They have existed long before the internet. What is specific to TikTok and Meta is the system that decides which of those human behaviors gets amplified, recommended, and monetized — and which gets caught and removed. That system is not a constant. It is a corporate choice. It is staffed and funded at corporate discretion. It is accountable, where human nature is not. Boni was a person, not a content category. The conversation Ethiopian TikTok is having about who failed her is the wrong argument with the wrong opponent. The actor who wrote the policy, deployed the technology it markets, profited from her audience, and did not enforce its own rules is not in any of the videos. It should be.


Woman journalist in Pakistan takes action against online harassment

A war that began between the United States and Iran on February 28 led to a two-week ceasefire on April 8, brokered through mediation efforts by Pakistan. Islamabad invited both countries to engage in negotiations. Although the first round of talks, held in Islamabad from April 11 to 12, ended in a deadlock , discussions continued behind closed doors, away from media scrutiny. While political leaders sought a path toward peace, a female anchor from GTV News faced a separate struggle, becoming the target of online harassment and abusive commentary. On April 11–12, media outlets from around the world gathered at the Jinnah Convention Center in Islamabad, Pakistan’s capital, located less than two kilometers from the venue where the official talks were taking place. As social media buzzed with commentary on logistical arrangements and even the branding of coffee for journalists, a photograph of Gharida Farooqi , anchorperson at GTV News , wearing a green cord-set suit, went viral—accompanied by derogatory remarks about her attire.


Some accounts circulated morphed images of her, while others engaged in gender-based harassment and shared AI-generated videos of the anchor. Gharida Farooqi, no stranger to online harassment , filed a complaint with the National Cyber Crime Investigation Agency ( NCCIA ) soon after the images began circulating. At the same time, she quietly gathered evidence to help identify those responsible. ‼‼‼ Important Announcement Beginning on April 11, 2026, I filed a complaint with the National Cyber Crime Investigation Agency (NCCIA) against individuals involved in coordinated, gender-based digital harassment and cybercrime targeting me over a photograph and my choice of clothing. Acting promptly, the NCCIA has initiated proceedings and made arrests. One suspect has been apprehended in Chiniot (details are attached in the image), and evidence of the abusive content he created is with both me and the NCCIA. Further arrests are expected in the coming hours. Deleting posts or tweets will not help, as all evidence has been securely preserved. No one will be spared. This was not merely an attack on one woman; it reflects a broader pattern aimed at intimidating women.


The NCCIA’s response sends a clear signal that such actions will not be tolerated, and it strengthens confidence in the enforcement of the law and the role of institutions. I am especially grateful to the Director General of NCCIA, Syed Khurram Ali Shah, for his personal oversight of this case and his zero-tolerance stance toward crimes against women. I also extend my sincere appreciation to the entire NCCIA team for their efforts. In a recent tweet , she said that the individuals involved have now been arrested. Mohammad Saqib, son of Shamim Akhtar, is among several individuals accused of participating in a campaign of harassment, character assassination, and digital abuse against me — targeting both my clothing and my personality — since April 11, 2026. Authorities are continuing to conduct raids to apprehend others involved. I will keep sharing details of further arrests to raise public awareness and reinforce the message that there is zero tolerance for attacks on the dignity of any woman. Well done to NCCIA, Director General Syed Khurram Ali Shah, and the entire team. She received widespread support from friends and followers for taking a stand against the abuse.


Many stressed that a journalist should be judged for their work, not their clothing. Muneeb Qadir, author of Age of Intolerance , said such offenders should be made an example of. Vile comments that led her to launch a complaint This is not the first time she has been targeted. She has often faced online abuse and character attacks linked to her work, but this time her clothing became the focus. In each instance, she has turned to the authorities to file complaints — and this case was no different. By the evening of April 11, her photos began circulating on X (formerly Twitter). Some users even compared her to a journalist from Iran who wore a full burqa — a loose garment that covers the entire body and is worn by some Muslim women — and used this contrast to question the moral standards of Pakistani society. Ahmed Hassan Bobak, a supporter of Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf and chairman of the National Peace Committee for Interfaith Harmony, claimed that the country is heading toward a moral and Islamic societal decline.


Scenes of the Convention Center Wing Iranian Female Journalist and Pakistani Female Journalist The difference is clear; this difference is telling you the tale of Pakistan's moral Islamic societal decline. Another account called it a brothel event taking place: What kind of brothel program is this running, May Allah have mercy on Pakistan’s condition; we seem less like an Islamic Republic and more like a shameless republic… This is the culture that our unknown desires want at this time… A number of people reminded others that women in Pakistan are not legally required to follow a specific dress code, unlike the situation in Iran. Many men were quick to comment on how “vulgar” she appeared, and unfortunately, some women journalists also made similarly harsh and derogatory remarks. Fauzia Yazdani, a writer and rights activist, shared a screenshot of a tweet that female journalists said: Translation of the shared tweet: I am truly saddened today to see that our journalists, who are well-known, all preferred Western attire, while our foreign guests are greatly impressed by our traditional clothing. There is great beauty in our shalwar kameez and dupatta.


Harassment against women journalists in Pakistan According to a UN Women report, Tipping Point: Online Violence Impacts, Manifestations, and Redress in the AI Age , released for World Press Freedom Day 2026 , 45 percent of women journalists and media professionals reported self-censoring on social media to avoid abuse — an increase of 50 percent since 2020. The report highlights how such pressures are increasingly pushing women out of public discourse and limiting equal participation in the media space. In many cases, women journalists either self-censor their reporting or avoid bylines altogether to reduce the risk of backlash or institutional pressure. In Pakistan, this trend has been visible for years, particularly since the rise of Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf in the 2010s. Over time, female journalists have increasingly become targets of t echnology-facilitated gender-based violence (TFGBV). They have been subjected to trolling, sustained character assassination campaigns, disinformation, and the exposure of personal data. Many have also received rape and death threats, while deepfakes and AI-generated sexualised images have been created and circulated against them. After the terrorist attack on Peshawar’s Army Public School in 2014, which left 144 students and staff dead, the Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act (PECA) 2016 was introduced under the 20-point National Action Plan (NAP) to curb cyberterrorism.


It also included provisions aimed at protecting women from online harassment. However, over time, its implementation has not fully reflected these objectives. Critics argue that the law has increasingly been used against free expression, activists, politicians, and journalists . In 2025, an amendment further tightened its provisions. Read more: Criminalized and silenced: The weaponization of Pakistan's PECA Act For years, women have been raising their concerns on various platforms regarding the threats they face. During former Prime Minister Imran Khan ’s government (2018 to 2022), in 2020, a group of women journalists shared details of online abuse to the National Assembly’s Standing Committee on Human Rights. In response to a joint statement issued by women journalists denouncing a cyber-harassment campaign against them by government officials and supporters, Reporters Without Borders (RSF) called on the Pakistani authorities to ensure that the online threats and hate messages are stopped. Along with Gharida Farooqi, journalist Asma Shirazi has repeatedly been targeted by a gendered disinformation campaign in online spaces for her work and opinion. According to the Digital Rights Foundation’s Digital Security Helpline Report 2025 , 47 of the 88 journalists who sought support in 2025 were women.


Their helpline offers assistance to survivors facing harassment, blackmail, non-consensual sharing of images, impersonation, and coordinated online attacks. Lubna Jarrar, General Secretary of the Karachi Union of Journalists (KUJ), the International Federation of Journalists’ (IFJ) Pakistan gender coordinator, and a media trainer, told Global Voices via WhatsApp that women are often objectified in the media, calling it a persistent problem. She noted that despite the growing presence of women across professions, including journalism, their appearance frequently overshadows their words, work, and achievements. “It is unfortunate that women have to work harder than men to be taken seriously, even when they are doing the same job with the same level of professionalism,” she said. She further added: “If we are criticizing the outfits of some journalists, then why don’t we comment on ill-fitting suits, untidy hair or facial hair, poor posture, or unconventional eyewear frames among men? Often, we focus on what men are saying simply because of their gender. One section of journalists is taken more seriously for being men, while women are expected to be more mindful of wearing ‘appropriate clothes’ than focusing on their work.”


On the need to generate more questions than pleasant answers

I am Brazilian, and here we have an iconic song about our largest city, São Paulo, in which the composer describes witnessing “the power of money, which builds and destroys beautiful things.” The idea of “the power of money” could easily be replaced by “human action.” Human activity is rife with contradictions. The very same human being who creates art, who imagines futures, who develops technologies, is the one who uses them for their own destruction. But if we take a closer look, we will realise that humans are not all the same. Recently, the “QuitGPT” boycott gained traction in the face of OpenAI’s close collaboration with the United States administration, including a partnership for surveillance and war. The human signing the deal with the Pentagon was billionaire Sam Altman , a gay white man from the United States, and the CEO and co-founder of this big corporation.


On the other hand, recently, in Brazil, a local civil society network launched TybyrIA , the first open source AI model in Portuguese to detect anti-LGBTQ+ hate speech. The people behind this network, named “Código Não Binário” (Non-Binary Code), are a Brazilian transvestite/transfeminine hacker, Veronyka Gimenes , and a bisexual cisgender woman, Amanda Claro . These two examples — a multi-billion-dollar corporation fuelling global violence under the guise of the “future of tech,” and another attempting to counter violence with limited resources in a particular geographical area — serve as evidence. They reveal that some “humans” remain far more visible than others, and that our values, dreams and decisions can be vastly different. In fact, “human” has become a label created within white, Western, male, cisheteronormative domination, based on this idea of a universal “human” that defines the “others” — those who would be deemed less human or less deserving of basic rights. The few human beings who created this artificial divide between themselves and nature are the same ones who destroy communities, rivers and forests to build data centres.


Who use AI to dehumanise “targets” in war, as a tool for surveillance and attacks in acts of genocide. In the hands of colonisers, authoritarian leaders and billionaires, technology becomes an act of concentrating and monetising power that draws on a false narrative/performance of progress, urgency and imperative necessity. But they don’t represent all humans. At this moment, you are reading an article that is part of a series called “Don’t ask AI, ask a peer.” Here we — APC, GenderIT.org and Global Voices — are affirming the value of human diversity and creativity, and going a bit further by trying to demonstrate it in practice. In this series, we developed two basic questions, phrased as questions people might ask AI, but in this case, answered by authors and illustrators from diverse countries, positionalities, and backgrounds. Throughout April, we published the articles that formed part of the series, and what we learned on this journey full of contradictions was revealing. Here’s a brief overview from my perspective.


In our editorial , we “re-emphasise the importance of knowledge sharing among people, as has been done for decades: communal exchange of information and expertise based on years of lived experiences, informed by local realities, and motivated by the need to feel connected with one another.” In this series, we also turn to the human. But here we tried to have some diversity. We turn to activists, journalists, writers and researchers. To dissenting bodies. To artists. To perspectives from the Global Majority. We also had many absences, starting with a confirmed author from Lebanon who was not able to submit their article amid Israel’s colonial attacks in the south of the country . As you read these lines, millions of people are suffering violence and rights violations in the Southwest Asia and North Africa (SWANA) region . We received and published a total of nine articles in this first round of the series, thus leaving out countless countries, lived realities, and perspectives. Even so, what we achieved was thought-provoking.


The authors, illustrators and editors involved in the series brought different perspectives when prompted by the same question. This alone confirms our premise that human creativity, when we consider people in all their diversity, can offer provocative ideas, different perspectives, and points of agreement and disagreement that generative AI homogenises. And this is something that AI, created by large corporations — which are managed by and enrich normative bodies, those bodies that see themselves as the epitome of humanity and position themselves as the benchmark for marginalising many others — is incapable of providing. Learning with peers Daria Dergacheva answered our first question, “Why is it vital to value human creativity and connection in the age of AI?” by saying that, no matter what tech companies try to sell us, there is no creativity or connection other than that of humans. “Generative AI does not write, does not design and does not paint: it generates statistically closest patterns; these are probabilistic automation systems, which make them fundamentally different from human cognition or creativity,” she said in her article .


But Kira Xonorika reminded us that “for centuries, countless forms of non‑human intelligence, from animal and ecological systems to ancestral and spiritual intelligences, have been dismissed or subordinated within a hierarchy built around a narrow notion of ‘the human.’” In their article , there is a powerful reminder: “That notion has historically been structured by white supremacy, patriarchy, ableism and cisheteronormativity. It assumes that rational, productive, self‑contained subjectivity is the universal human standard. To centre ‘the human’ in AI often ends up centring that particular template.” How can this be avoided? While we reaffirm the need for human connection and creativity, how can we rethink our own conception of humanity so that it does not perpetuate this legacy? Was this series’ second question – “What could be done to create a human rights approach to AI?” – enough? Should we be asking ourselves which technologies can sustain life and knowledge on the planet, in all their variety and diversity? What narratives and performances would be shaped by such technologies?


In any case, for me, the articles that addressed the first question in the series raised a number of doubts about some very comfortable certainties and raised new questions in my mind, in a spiral that a pre-programmed answer designed to please me and hold my attention would never have triggered. Fortunately, instead of palatable answers, I found food for thought and no answers at all. After that, I started reading the articles prompted by the question about a human rights approach to AI. Hija Kamran explained that replicating patterns to depict human-like connection is not the same as human connection , wisely pointing out : “Care work, community building, resistance, empathy, joy, showing up for each other – these are not functions you can automate.” While questioning whether AI could ever be ethical or feminist, she explained that her hesitation comes “from years of watching patterns repeat. The promises to do better, the carefully crafted language of responsibility, the performance of listening, none of it has meaningfully shifted how these systems are built or who they serve.”


Rebecca Ryakitimbo emphasised in her article that it is we, humans, who give AI purpose and urgency. “The struggle for human rights has always been about shifting power from the few to the many, and today the field is digital with tools such as AI,” she pointed out, adding: “We can and should approach the regulation of AI by taking into account the fundamental rights we have been advocating for centuries.” Then, we delved a bit deeper into lived realities. Rezwan pointed out how surveillance and facial recognition restrict civic space, hamper human rights, and harm marginalised communities in India . Oiwan Lam , when examining the Chinese lesson on the human rights approach to AI , stressed the need to rebalance the power among the corporate-state, the machine, and the people through a decision-making framework that places people back at the center. Mariana Tamari highlighted the case of a traditional community in Brazil where families who have lived on their lands for almost a century are seeing their homes threatened by new eviction tactics employed by land grabbers, while unrestricted digitalisation reinforces a model in which human presence no longer prevails.


“Empirical knowledge of the land, honed over centuries and passed down from generation to generation by traditional communities, is summarily dismissed as obsolete,” she highlighted in her article, published on Earth Day . Those who live in alliance with the land are pushed out, while in the “parallel universe created by the corporate sector, the imminent climate collapse simply does not exist. The promised future is always one of control and abundance, guaranteed by digital technology and the precision that only AI can provide.” Grounded in lived realities and backed by evidence, these articles have provided a very practical demonstration of the ongoing violations, while pointing the way towards curbing them. A call for accountability runs through them all. Their content serves as a reminder that, while we seek to free our capacity to think and imagine futures from the constraints imposed by the dominant narrative in AI, we must address the very real problems and profound injustices already taking place. It’s not a case of either/or; both things need to happen at the same time.


In a similar vein, we both affirmed and questioned the value of human action throughout the series. While we have drawn on the idea of a human-versus-machine dichotomy, we have once again exposed its fallacy. Opening up new questions We often seek to dismantle false narratives by asserting the opposite, but perhaps a very valuable lesson from this series is precisely to highlight the value of not finding quick answers, of not resorting to comfortable solutions and familiar places, but rather, to recognise the unique value of generating more questions. Some say AI is good and will help people and the planet. We can say it is not, and we can back up this statement with plenty of evidence. But we can also ask, which AI are we talking about? Who creates the AI tools, based on what criteria, and for what purposes? Are they designed to reinforce — while helping to create a narrative of justification for — war, land grabbing, surveillance, human rights violations, and economic exploitation? Some say AI is inevitable. We can say it isn’t.