One user left the following comment on a book review on Douban, a Chinese platform for user-generated reviews of books, films, and cultural content: 即便在这样的压力之下，阿迪亚依然写出了独属于阿富汗女性的坚韧、热情和对自由的渴望。书中描绘的女性并非被动的受害者：有的加入国民军找回自尊，有的在绝望中寻找巫师抗争，有的在流言蜚语中坚持自我。正如哈迪亚在自序中所写：“除了战争和破坏之外，人们还必须有其他东西来介绍自己。 Even under such pressure, Haidary managed to capture the resilience, passion, and yearning for freedom that are unique to Afghan women. The women portrayed in the book are not passive victims: some joined the National Army to reclaim their dignity, some seek out shamans in their desperation to fight back, and some remain true to themselves amid rumors and gossip. As Haidary writes in her preface: ‘Beyond war and destruction, people must have something else to define themselves.’ In addition to online promotion, some readers took further steps to support her. One reader even delivered the book to Haidary during a business trip to Pakistan in November 2025. In such a constrained environment, solidarity does not disappear; it becomes quieter, more fragmented, and often deeply personal. All these small acts of feminist solidarity were carried out without widespread mobilization or calls to action, as feminist social media outlets have been banned and related networks repressed in recent years.


Citizen-initiated fundraising and advocacy work is highly sensitive and almost impossible under China’s tightly regulated online environment. Hong highlighted the cross-border solidarity among women in a reflective piece in January 2026 : 在如今人人默认全球趋向保守排外的时代，这样动人的、毫无私心的援助像接力棒一样发生在中国，并奇迹般地帮到了一个他国女性。 As the world is becoming more conservative and xenophobic, this touching and selfless act of kindness has spread like a relay across China, and miraculously helped a woman from another country. Indeed, the willingness to learn and understand others’ suffering is precious in today’s chaotic world, as explained in a post on Sohu: 哈迪亚·海达里的作品，既是一面镜子，也是一把钥匙。它映照出阿富汗女性的苦难，也叩问着每一个读者的责任：当世界在喧嚣中遗忘某些角落的伤痛时，我们是否愿意成为“知道”的人？这本书的答案或许不在于提供解决方案，而在于唤醒共情。正如书中所写：“她们并不遥远。” Haidary’s work serves both as a mirror and a key. It reflects the suffering of Afghan women while also challenging every reader to consider their responsibility: When the world, overwhelmed by noise, forgets the pain in certain corners, are we willing to be among those who ‘know’? The book’s answer may not lie in offering solutions, but rather in awakening empathy. As the book states: ‘They are not far away.’


Undoing a decade of progress for transgender rights in India

A Bill has been proposed in India’s lower house of Parliament that strikes at the core of transgender people’s right to bodily autonomy and privacy as guaranteed by the Supreme Court of India in a landmark 2014 judgment, National Legal Services Authority ( NALSA ) v. Union of India. Activists have therefore called the bill “unconstitutional” and “dangerous,” and as it is expected to soon become law, it has also heightened concerns and uncertainty about its impact. Read more: How India's higher judiciary is steadily advancing transgender rights amid global anti-trans backlash Proposed amendments to existing legislation The Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Amendment Bill, 2026 (“2026 Bill”) has been newly introduced in India’s ongoing Parliamentary Budget Session, proposing to amend the Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act, 2019 (“2019 Act”), much to the chagrin of India’s transgender community. According to activists, the proposed amendments to the 2019 Act threaten trans people’s safety and privacy in two ways.


First, they narrow the definition of who counts as “transgender” by effectively excluding a wide range of identities, including, but not limited to, transgender men, non-binary and gender-fluid persons who do not fit into rigid gender categories, as well as many intersex and trans-feminine identities. Second, the amendments delete the provision of the law that explicitly guaranteed, within the text of the statute, the right to self-identification of one’s gender. Instead of self-identification, a person would now need to provide medical proof of gender change through surgery and submit a certificate issued by the Medical Superintendent or Chief Medical Officer to the District Magistrate, who, upon being satisfied with the correctness of the certificate, may issue a certificate indicating a change in gender. Gatekeeping gender identity The amendments also envision the creation of “medical boards” to certify gender identity. These boards are to be headed by a Chief Medical Officer or a Deputy Chief Medical Officer, and mandate that the District Magistrate issue certificates only after examining the recommendation of this board.


The provision also allows the District Magistrate to seek the assistance of other medical experts if required. Comics channel Sanitary Panels weighs in: These provisions pathologize transgender identity by subjecting it to mandatory medical certification and raise serious concerns about privacy. It should be noted that the 2019 law and its accompanying Rules did not mandate medical or physical intervention. Instead, they allowed transgender persons to directly apply for recognition based on their self-perceived gender identity. If they later chose to undergo surgery to change their gender, they may apply for revised documentation. The proposed amendments fundamentally alter this process by inserting a medical board at the very beginning of the recognition procedure, effectively eliminating the possibility of recognition based solely on self-perception. Furthermore, the inclusion of a provision allowing the District Magistrate to seek the assistance of other medical experts raises additional privacy concerns. By granting such broad discretion, the law risks allowing the District Magistrate to discuss an applicant’s case with multiple medical professionals.


It does not specify that these consultations must take place confidentially, nor that they require the informed consent of the individual concerned. But these concerns are all secondary. Even if confidential, consent-centered, and trans-affirmative procedures were to be put in place, the very requirement of a medical board for certification of gender identity strikes at the core of the Supreme Court’s ruling in NALSA and violates it. Criminal offences introduced: protection or policing? Under the 2019 Act, Section 18 criminalized specific acts such as forcing a transgender person into bonded labor, denying access to public places, forcing them to leave their residence, or subjecting them to physical, sexual, verbal, emotional, or economic abuse. The proposed amendments retain these offences without any attempt at rationalizing the disproportionately low punishments for certain offences, such as sexual abuse committed against a transgender person, when compared to punishments provided under India’s general criminal law .


On the other hand, it introduces new provisions to criminalize acts such as forced labor, employment in begging or solicitation, kidnapping and grievous hurt or injury inflicted through compelling a person to “assume, adopt, or outwardly present a transgender identity” or even to “dress, present, or conduct themselves outwardly as a transgender person” through allurement, inducement, deception, force, or the like. Outwardly, these insertions may appear to provide a remedy against aggravated forms of coercion. However, the conduct that falls within their scope remains equivocal. It is wholly unclear what the law perceives to be the “presenting, dressing or conducting” of oneself as transgender, especially in the context of the newly medicalized definition. These terms are not defined or characterised, and remain open to (mis)interpretation by the police and State. The line is blurred between situations involving actual violence or abduction, and those involving voluntary co-opting into community networks and norms ( such as within hijra gharanas — traditional kinship-based community structures among transgender persons in South Asia).


This gives rise to concern regarding the misuse of criminal law in contexts where transgender persons receive shelter and support from their community, especially in the absence of support from the state, their natal families, and larger society. The further invocation of criminal law appears to have been made without conducting any stakeholder consultations or impact assessments of the law’s social, fiscal, and judicial implications. There is a lack of evidence available in the public domain indicating the necessity of such criminalization. It is thus unclear whether the problem that the State seeks to solve is a problem that currently exists. A comparable insertion was controversially proposed in the 2019 Act, and then ultimately dropped . In the broader context of the 2026 Bill, these proposed introductions further the colonial narrative of viewing expressions of transgender identity with suspicion, especially where they occur outside narrowly defined categories recognized by the law. This possibility has contributed to fears that provisions intended as protective measures could instead be used to police identity and community relationships, rather than to prevent genuine harm.


The Way Forward The Bill has not yet been signed into law, meaning there are several ways it could proceed. The Bill could be passed by the lower house of Parliament, withdrawn by the government, or sent to what is known as a Parliamentary Standing Committee — a group of Members of Parliament that would examine the proposed law in detail and may also consult experts and community stakeholders before submitting a final report with recommendations. Activist Prakhy posts in X (formerly Twitter) Another possible path is litigation through the courts after the Bill gets signed into law . However, petitions challenging several provisions of the Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act, 2019, have already been pending before the Supreme Court since 2019, which means that relief through this route, if it comes at all, is unlikely to be immediate. In the meantime, activists and members of the transgender community remain committed to ensuring that the Bill is withdrawn, allowing the law to return to the first principles outlined by the Supreme Court in NALSA.


Rebuilding from the Thailand-Myanmar border: Thapyay’s journey of courage and new beginnings

On the Thai-Myanmar border, many lives are quietly being rebuilt. Since the military junta launched a coup against the Myanmar government in February 2021, an estimated 3.7 million people have been internally displaced, according to data from the UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR). However, behind every story of displacement is a person learning to begin again, often with uncertainty, limited opportunities, and the weight of everything left behind. This is the story of Thapyay, one of many Myanmar women living in exile who continues to move forward with courage and determination. Before the coup, she was a university lecturer and Associate Professor in Central Myanmar, dedicating more than 20 years to teaching. Her classroom was a place where young people learned, questioned, and imagined their futures. But when the military coup happened in Myanmar, Thapyay joined the Civil Disobedience Movement (CDM), a group of young people fighting back against the junta regime through acts of civil disobedience and resistance. Like many CDM participants, the consequences came quickly. Remaining inside the country was no longer safe. At the end of 2022, Thapyay and her family crossed the border into Mae Sot, Thailand, seeking safety.


For someone who spent decades in academia, the transition was painful. But instead of trying to recreate her past, she began exploring new possibilities for the future. Thapyay joined the Zin Yaw Women Rising Program, supported by Exile Hub and partners. The program offered career coaching, digital skills training, and peer support, with courses delivered through an online learning platform. For Thapyay, the experience was transformative. She explains that “The most helpful part was not only the technical skills. It was learning to see myself differently again.” She added, “It helped me understand what parts of my identity I needed to let go of and what parts I should hold onto with confidence.” A new chapter Today, Thapyay works as a content writer, allowing her to work safely from home. For her, this milestone represents far more than a job. It represents the possibility of rebuilding life after disruption. “It was not easy to strip away my past titles and start again, but I now see this not as an ending but as the beginning of a new life.” Her confidence, slowly but surely, is returning.


“For that, I am deeply grateful to the Zin Yaw program, the trainers, and the organizations that made this opportunity possible.” Words for other women at the border Thapyay knows that many other women in exile are facing similar challenges. Her message to them is simple, but powerful: “Struggling in these conditions is exhausting physically and mentally. But please do not give up. Protect your mental strength.” For many people rebuilding their lives after displacement, the future can feel uncertain. But Thapyay has learned something important along the way. She encourages fellow women in exile, “Try to trust the process. Sometimes we focus too much on the result and forget that every small step we take today has value. One day, opportunities will appear. These struggles are simply part of the path forward.” She added, “Circumstances may limit you, but no one can limit your talent or your effort.” The skills she is learning, the work she is doing, and the resilience she continues to build are all part of that process. Along with many women living lives on the border, Thapyay continues walking that path, one step at a time.


Our generation will continue resisting the Taliban’s restrictions on women and girls

This article was written by Fareshtah in 2025. It is published with her consent under the special coverage that tells the stories of young women and girls from Afghanistan following the Taliban takeover in August 2021. I am well familiar with the term “war between the Taliban and the government” because I have witnessed the trade-offs and conflicts between the two sides since my childhood. Our fate has always fluctuated because of their actions and decisions. I was born in the last year of the first Taliban regime (1996–2001) in Afghanistan’s central Ghor Province. Fortunately, I had gained the right to education after the fall of the first regime. I still remember the excitement of my first day at school, donning a black uniform and white scarf. It was a special feeling! I had not yet entered the university when we heard news of the peace talks between the U.S. and Taliban in February 2020, and we had hoped for peace and a better future.


Finally, after passing the entrance exam, I entered the university. The years 2020 and 2021 were among the most accomplished years of my life, because I had found my path and was on the verge of achieving all my goals. I was studying Sharia and Islamic Sciences and wanted to become a successful attorney, so I registered for the two-year legal skills program through the Asia Foundation and the Ministry of Higher Education. At the same time, the war between the Taliban and government forces was intensifying. The security situation was worsening, and because of the extreme heat waves, the university and the legal skills classes were held both in person and online. I saw news of the collapse of the provinces one after another, but I was still thinking about my goals and pursuing them. On August 13, 2021, the war had reached the gates of our home city of Herat. The next day, I was trying to connect to my online class in my room when my brother opened the door and said, “Put it down, it’s over.”


The end of dreams With the fall of Herat, there was no exam, no presentation, and no news of the class or its continuation. All my hopes suddenly evaporated before my eyes, as if I had been in a very sweet dream and someone had woken me up with a heavy blow. Such a heavy blow that it took away my power of speech and tears. I felt that my soul had been separated from my body, and all that was left was a lifeless body. My heart burned with the desire to continue university and the legal skills class, but with complete despair, I could do nothing but cry. After a few months, private universities opened, but there was no news of public universities opening. Six months later, public universities finally opened. I studied intensively for the last three semesters and finished my thesis. I was supposed to defend my thesis on a Saturday (December 24) and attend my batch’s graduation ceremony on the Monday (December 26).


However, on Tuesday, December 20, 2022, a decree was issued prohibiting girls from attending universities. I contacted my professor, and he said, “Come on, defend your thesis because you’ve graduated.” On Saturday morning, I left for the university, happy that I had been given the right to defend my thesis, yet also sad that so many other girls had dropped out. When I arrived at the university gate, a Taliban member blocked the gate and refused to let me out of the rickshaw, which I had taken to get there. Finally, I got down and hurried toward the university gate, but he stood in front of me with the gun. I ignored him and approached the gate. He grabbed the strap of my laptop bag, pulled it, and said violently: “You don't understand what I’m talking about?! Or should I blow your brains out?!” He fired a shot in the air, and a strange and unpleasant ringing filled my ears. A bystander came toward me and said, “Sister, please go.” He was one of the university guards I knew.


I left and went to the Shame Danesh Publishing House. As soon as I entered, my anger exploded, and tears flew down my face. The tears in my eyes had become like a sea that could not be dried. I no longer cared whether people saw me crying as I left that place. I was walking home in tears when I heard my cell phone ring. It was my father, and he asked: “Have you finished your defense, and how was it?” Crying, and in one breath, I told him the story. He comforted me, told me about the hardships and tortures he had endured, and advised me to be patient and persevere. From one set of goals to another I got home, slept a little, then started searching for online courses and educational opportunities, but since I couldn’t find a suitable opportunity, I started reading books. I participated in a women’s reading group twice a week. We read different books, but this time I really needed a motivational and psychological book.


I visited the group and saw the name of the book, “Wuthering Heights.” Reading it gave me the motivation to start again and helped me renew myself. Nearly a year after finishing my bachelor’s degree, I managed to defend my thesis online. But I had no more enthusiasm, because my goals had completely deviated from their original path. I had to set new goals. I started studying, researching, and participating in online programs. I started my computer and English courses online, but after a few months, they were canceled again due to Taliban restrictions, and there has been no news of them since. A decree was issued allowing girls to attend educational courses, and I also registered for an in-person course, but they quickly reneged on the promise and banned it again . Over the last three years, I have participated in various online programs, trainings, and conferences because my dream job is not available to me at the moment. I realized that the root of all these problems is a lack of awareness.


I have been teaching in online schools for girls who have been deprived of education for almost two years, and I have also started teaching Islamic culture courses at the university. I want to fight ignorance and injustice in my own way. Whether it is by transferring my little knowledge by reading a line from a book, or writing, or even tying a root to hope and growing its withered buds in my heart and that of my fellow human beings. I hope for a better tomorrow and a bright future for my country. Our generation that suffered this injustice and ignorance will never give birth to a child who will surrender to the oppressor and the ignorant. They will not allow a third repetition in history with such a bitter experience.


Extending authoritarianism through dynasty in Azerbaijan

Since 2020, a notable transformation has unfolded in the agenda of pro-government media in Azerbaijan. While the focus was previously on President Ilham Aliyev’s official meetings, political decisions, and state events, more recently, the First Family’s daily religious, charitable, and symbolic activities have begun to gain news value. The Aliyev family’s Iftar tables, mosque visits, and humanitarian trips are no longer presented in the media space as ordinary social events; rather, they are featured directly under the rubric of domestic policy. This shift is not coincidental. The trend in question can be interpreted as a visual and communicative manifestation of the government’s transition from a leader-centered political representation model to a family-centered or dynastic representation model. The fact that this model has become more apparent in recent years indicates that the government has begun to build its legitimacy not just through the figure of an individual leader, but through the integrity of the family unit. In this context, a crucial question arises: Is the shift of the media’s political focus from official cabinets to religious ceremonies and symbolic family spaces a demonstration of sincerity, or a process of incrementally embedding the idea of a “family state” into the deeper layers of public consciousness?


The rise of the “family state” Research conducted on modern autocratic regimes allows for this question to be answered within a theoretical framework. When analyzing hereditary succession mechanisms in modern authoritarian regimes, Jason Brownlee, professor at the University of Texas, cites the transfer of power in Singapore and Azerbaijan’s 2003 transition from President Heydar Aliyev to his son, Ilham, as examples. However, while Brownlee’s analysis focuses primarily on biological succession, a more complex model is taking shape within Azerbaijan today. Ilham Aliyev is not settling for traditional father-to-son succession; instead, he appears to be transforming the government into a family-based monarchy model during his own lifetime, whereby power is transferred not to a single individual, but to a collective family brand. First Lady and Vice President Mehriban Aliyeva, along with Aliyev’s daughters and daughter-in-law, are becoming permanent actors in the sociopolitical space, made clearly visible during the president’s international visits . At foreign political events, Ilham Aliyev is presented to the public not as a head of state, but collectively, alongside his family . In January 2026, during events held within the framework of the Davos Forum , the president’s son, Heydar Jr., wore a badge with the SOCAR logo. SOCAR is a state-owned oil and gas company that is the primary source of revenue for the authoritarian regime.


It is a detail that appears not merely as a protocol coincidence, but as an attempt to symbolically link family members with the state’s primary strategic institutions. Photos and videos circulating from the forum emphasize the extent to which the president often moves alongside his spouse, Mehriban, daughter Leyla, and daughter-in-law Alyona, attending meetings and key events together. These types of visual strategies are observed in other international events as well, carrying a political message that transcends the boundaries of traditional diplomatic protocol. Implications of an Aliyev dynasty This family-centered legitimacy strategy is not merely symbolic; it carries profound economic implications . The centralized resources of state capitalism, ranging from oil revenues to strategic industrial sectors, are no longer managed through classic bureaucratic institutions but are consolidated directly under the family brand . This process operates in parallel with the dispossession of the old oligarchy within the ruling elite, serving to concentrate wealth within an even narrower, more exclusive circle. Consequently, the image of the charitable and humanistic family presented by state-run media functions as an aesthetic veil, obscuring the deep class inequality and skewed distribution of resources in the country.


The ultimate stage of neoliberal authoritarianism is often the complete transformation of state functions into a single, corporate-family holding. Comparatively, during Heydar Aliyev ’s presidency, only his granddaughter Leyla would occasionally appear in the media; in fact, Ilham was rarely seen on the public stage with his father. Now, however, the consistent media presence of family members is being normalized and rendered commonplace. On February 25, 2026, for instance — just one day — a government-funded media outlet published eight separate reports about the president’s daughter and daughter-in-law, despite the content consisting primarily of symbolic , religious , and social activities . Set against the backdrop of the presidential family’s high media visibility, the harsh political “ cleansing ” mechanisms currently being employed in Azerbaijan are being presented in a softer, more psychologically effective manner. When juxtaposed with administrative arrests or sentencing of citizens who criticize the government on social media, visits of the president’s daughters and daughter-in-law to orphanages or social enterprises employing youth with disabilities, and their participation in Iftar tables, create an alternative narrative at a symbolic level.


Such parallel imagery appears to be a soft power mechanism designed to balance the negative impact generated by harsh repressive practices — so while the coercive tools of the government remain operational on one hand, values of empathy, care, and family values are emphasized on the other. Consequently, without directly denying the repressive nature of the political system, its public perception is softened and compensated for on an emotional level. In the context of a weak economic agenda and rising social discontent, such symbolic activities may aim to divert ordinary citizens’ attention from structural problems and neutralize political dissatisfaction through emotional proximity and moral gestures. In this sense, the continuous presence of family members in charitable and religious spaces can be evaluated not merely as an individual initiative, but as a component of a broader legitimacy strategy in which repression and empathy are managed within the same political space. Lessons in dynasty building Comparing Azerbaijan’s family-centered presentation model with Kazakhstan’s, Nursultan Nazarbayev also positioned his daughters — particularly Dariga — and other family members at the core of the state’s economic and political management.


The Nazarbayev model demonstrated that presenting family members as a national brand in the media and appointing them to strategic posts did not increase the institutional stability of the regime but rather made it more personalized and fragile. The Kazakhstan example also revealed the greatest risk of this strategy: dynastic legitimacy is limited solely to the physical presence and power of the leader. The image of invincibility and the symbolic mother/father figure that the Nazarbayev family built over decades collapsed within just a few days during the events of January 2022 , when the family emerged as the clear losers in an internal power struggle that played out against widespread social unrest. The citizenry often does not accept such family-state unity, artificially created through the media, as legitimate, particularly during moments of political crisis. In the Azerbaijani context, the soft power of family members, built upon charitable and humanitarian activities, is calculated to fill the vacuum created by the paralysis of official state institutions, such as parliament , an imbalanced judiciary , and a lack of free and fair elections .


While family visibility is the common thread linking the Nazarbayev regime to Ilham Aliyev’s family-based governance model, the approach also serves as a tool to neutralize other groups within the political elite, such as the old oligarchy or bureaucratic clans. The symbolic family spaces frequently shown in the media essentially function as a form of collective insurance for the government, which — if it remains heavily dependent on the classic bureaucratic apparatus — may face greater challenges to internal stability. However, when power is consolidated within the family, the chain of loyalty appears more closed and unshakeable. Nevertheless, the Kazakhstan experience demonstrates that no matter how solid such systems may seem, they fail during historical trials because they lack institutional roots. As Samuel Huntington emphasized , hereditary power and plebiscitary institutions cannot coexist in the long term. Ultimately, while political theory underscores that republicanism and heredity are in contradiction, the Azerbaijani media is attempting to reconcile and legitimize this contradiction through the image of a family state, wherein the ruling family is presented as the only force capable of keeping the country stable and safe.


Heavy use of AI increases tensions in Hungary’s upcoming election

As Hungary approaches its upcoming Parliamentary elections on April 12 , the country’s two major political parties — FIDESZ , the incumbent, led by Prime Minister Viktor Orbán ; and the opposition TISZA , led by former FIDESZ party member Péter Magyar — which are going up against each other, have started their campaigns in earnest. Citizens of the Central European country are seeing election messages not only on the streets, but online as well. As the BBC reported on April 1, just 11 days before the scheduled election date, FIDESZ — at 35 percent — was far behind TISZA’s 58 percent in the popularity polls. Magyar emerged as Orban’s strongest opposition when, in February 2024, he appeared live on the pro-opposition YouTube channel Partizán , criticised his own party and spoke of his hope for political change, noting it would be very difficult while Orban was still in power. The video went viral. The very next month, Magyar launched TISZA as an opposition party to FIDESZ, which has led the nation for the past 16 years.


The Orbán regime, as it has been called, has been employing an “ us versus them ” political philosophy, a tactic being used even more prominently as voting day draws nearer. Paired with artificial intelligence (AI) tools, however, Orbán’s divisive messaging appears to be widening the divide in Hungarian society. The party’s full-on mobilisation of this communications approach started online in 2025, after it was established that the majority of younger voters — whom FIDESZ wanted to attract — were leaning towards supporting TISZA . Even prior to the party’s push for the youth demographic, however, FIDESZ maintained a strong presence, both online and in traditional mass media channels. A common approach involved mobilising their voters by calling for them to support the party’s Digital Civil Circles (DPKs) — essentially Facebook groups fighting to create online space for FIDESZ. Facebook is the most used platform within the party’s online content strategy, and it is from within these Facebook groups that the majority of AI content is being distributed. For example, one Facebook account , Not Our War , has posted what has since become a notorious war ad . Even before this election campaign, AI has contributed to the majority of Orbán’s communications.


From posters on the streets to videos that associate voting for the opposition with going to war, AI has been an effective fear-mongering tool. Most recently, the party produced a comic book, which tells the story of how Magyar allegedly has two sides. The publication suggested that Magyar lies to the people of Hungary, only pretending to stand with them while secretly working for Ursula von der Leyen , the current president of the European Commission. It is quite common to see the comic book being promoted alongside other FIDESZ campaign material, including on advertising spaces like billboards and bus stops. One question being discussed is whether these realistic-looking AI videos and comic books are crossing the line in the context of a democratic election. The images are quite realistic-looking , and many citizens cannot tell the difference between fact and synthesized, AI-generated visuals — especially when FIDESZ is portrayed as the only viable option. A good example of the extent to which Hungarian people are led to believe that AI-generated propaganda is real revolves around a false taxation system that the government claims the opposition has.


It even organised a national consultation in which people weighed in on whether or not they wanted the alleged TISZA taxes. In office since 2010, the far-right, nationalistic Orbán has maintained backing from both U.S. President Donald Trump and Russian President Vladimir Putin. He has consistently challenged the European Union and remains one of the few EU leaders reluctant to support Ukraine. For Europe’s expanding group of nationalist movements, whether already governing or nearing power, an Orbán loss at the polls could potentially weaken the position of far-right parties in the rest of the EU. In response, a senior TISZA official told the BBC , “While the rest of Europe is being sucked into the radical nationalist tunnel, we can show the way out.” The use of AI in political ads is not directly prohibited by the EU AI Act , which came into force in August 2024, but it becomes fully applicable only in August 2026. According to this legislation, AI-generated political ads need to be clearly labeled as such, and “manipulative” use of AI is prohibited.


However, Hungarian elections are still in the “grey zone” of AI regulation, not simply because the EU AI act has not fully gone into effect, but also because the country does not have its own national law on AI use. Fact checkers, though, have investigated the enormous amount of fake claims and disinformation circulating around the election — many of them using AI. Orbán’s party does label some of the ads as “AI-generated,” and some, not . Its opponents, meanwhile, although also spreading some false narratives, have mostly been engaged with social media without using AI-generated content. As Zsófia Fülöp, a journalist at Hungary’s only independent fact-checking website, Lakmusz , told the BBC , while such narratives from the ruling party are not new, the use of generative AI is: “It is omnipresent in this campaign, especially in the communication of the ruling party and its media and proxies. They’ve used it before, but now it’s massive.” The Hungarian elections, which will culminate in the vote on April 12, is among the first to employ such a spread of AI-generated ads and disinformation. Depending on the results, others might follow.


Bangladesh’s energy crisis worsens as US's war on Iran drags on

Rashid Ahmed waited two hours at a fuel station in Dhaka’s Mirpur district on March 10, watching the line of motorcycles stretch into the next block as the pump operator turned away customer after customer. The forty-two-year-old delivery rider had visited three stations since dawn, each time finding either empty tanks or queues too long to wait through before his first delivery deadline. His motorcycle sat idle while his family’s income evaporated with each passing hour. Ahmed’s frustration mirrors the experience of hundreds of thousands across Bangladesh as government-imposed rationing collides with daily survival. The rationing emerged from a crisis that began thousands of kilometers away in the Persian Gulf. During mid March, the government withdrew the temporary rationing system for fuel sales; however, shortages, long queues, and irregularities at most filling stations made it difficult for vehicles to obtain fuel. As tensions between Iran, Israel, and the United States escalated into open warfare, Bangladesh found itself plunged into an energy emergency despite the geographic distance.


The country of 175 million people imports roughly 95 percent of its energy, making it almost entirely dependent on global fuel markets. When the Strait of Hormuz became a battleground , the world’s oil supplies dipped, as the narrow waterway is the gateway for nearly a third of the world’s seaborne oil. Bangladesh felt the squeeze immediately. The cascade begins: Supply lines cut The crisis hit with devastating speed in early March. QatarEnergy , one of Bangladesh’s three long-term liquified natural gas (LNG) suppliers, suspended deliveries, invoking force majeure , after Iranian attacks on energy infrastructure disrupted production. Qatar accounts for 20 percent of global LNG supply. Within days, the other two suppliers followed suit, cutting off Bangladesh from all contracted deliveries. Bangladesh had been purchasing spot LNG cargoes at approximately ten dollars per million British thermal units in January. By mid-March, those prices had skyrocketed to USD 28.28 per MMBtu (million metric British thermal units) for emergency purchases.


“We are buying spot LNG at an exorbitant price, which is almost 2.5 times higher than the price of four days ago,” Energy Secretary Saiful Islam told reporters. This price explosion created a vicious cycle. When Petrobangla floated an initial tender for spot LNG on March 1, it received zero bids . Traders considered Bangladesh’s market too volatile and risky. Only after offering even higher prices did the country secure cargo from Gunvor at USD 28.28 MMBtu and Vitol at USD 23.08 per MMBtu. “We are now looking for alternatives from the spot market to fill the window left vacant by the three suppliers,” Petrobangla Chairman Md Arfanul Hoque acknowledged . Bangladesh was scheduled to receive 115 LNG cargoes in 2026. Officials projected losing forty of them due to disruptions in Western Asia. Who gets the gas? Power generation and household consumption took precedence over industrial uses. This meant four of five state-run urea fertilizer factories had to shut down for at least fifteen days. Only the Shahjalal Fertilizer Company continued operating, along with one private facility.


Bangladesh was in the middle of the Boro season , when rice paddies require consistent irrigation and fertilization. Government officials insisted there was no immediate crisis due to existing stocks. Farmers and agricultural experts worried about medium-term shortages. Meanwhile, gas supply to the power sector dropped from 870 million cubic feet per day (mmcfd) to 820 mmcfd. Officials warned this reduction would likely increase power load-shedding across the country and could lead to blackouts. “Until the supply side is fixed, I have to use what I have in my hand in a prudent manner,” Power and Energy Minister Iqbal Hassan Mahmood Tuku told reporters. “We must use what we have sparingly. If people cooperate, it will be possible to overcome this crisis.” Universities closed, fuel rationed On March 8, authorities announced that all universities would close early, advancing Eid holidays to reduce electricity consumption. University campuses consume large amounts of power for dormitories, classrooms, laboratories, and air conditioning. Shutting them down offered immediate relief to the strained power grid. Students faced uncertainty about when normal operations would resume.


“We are doing everything we can to reduce consumption and ensure stability in power, fuel, and import supplies,” a senior official from the Ministry of Power, Energy, and Mineral Resources explained . Simultaneously, the government ordered petrol pumps to reduce daily sales by 10 percent to preserve national fuel reserves. This rationing triggered panic across major cities. Long queues formed at fuel stations as motorists rushed to fill their tanks. Drivers reported waiting hours to purchase fuel. Some stations ran dry by midday. The industrial toll The ready-made garment industry accounts for 84 percent of Bangladesh’s exports and employs millions of workers. When power cuts doubled to as much as five hours per day, factories faced impossible choices. Industry leaders described a nightmare scenario unfolding since the conflict began in late February. Running diesel generators during extended outages dramatically increased operating costs. In recent months, many textile and garment factories operated at only 40–50 percent capacity. These production losses threatened export orders.


By early March, diesel reserves had fallen to just nine days of supply, measured at 115,473 tons as of March 4. The government scrambled to secure emergency shipments. Bangladesh received 5,000 metric tons through a cross-border pipeline from India’s Numaligarh Refinery. Officials were negotiating for an additional 30,000 metric tons from the Indian Oil Corporation. Household struggles For ordinary Bangladeshi families, the energy crisis manifested most painfully in rising cooking fuel costs. The price of a 12.5 kg liquefied petrolium gas (LPG) cylinder, which most households use to operate stoves and burners, surged from Bangladeshi Taka (BDT) 900 to 1,500 (USD 7.3 to 12.2), adding between BTD 500–800 (USD 4–6.5) to monthly household expenses. The minimum wage in Bangladesh is BDT 12,500 per month (approximately USD 101). For low-income families already struggling with inflation, this increase forced painful adjustments. Some families began undercooking meals to conserve gas. Others reverted to traditional fuels like wood and dung. “The Middle East war has made LPG imports very difficult,” Abdur Razzaq, Managing Director of JMI Group , explained.


“Freight costs are rising, shipping routes are uncertain, and traders are becoming cautious.” Transportation costs for LPG jumped to USD 275 per ton, compared to the Bangladesh Energy Regulatory Commission’s calculation of USD 120 per ton. “There was no risk of a shortage until March, considering the LPG already imported by the private sector,” Mostafa Kamal, Chairman of Meghna Group of Industries, stated. “Our concern began in April.” His company was attempting to source LPG from Vietnam, Taiwan, Malaysia, and China as alternatives to Middle Eastern suppliers. A fiscal time bomb: The cost of crisis Analysts estimated that spot LNG purchases between 2022 and 2024 could cost USD 11 billion. This enormous outlay strained foreign exchange reserves and forced difficult trade-offs across government budgets. “If the disruption drags on, we’ll have to lean more on costly spot LNG, which will add to our import burden and tighten supplies for power and industry,” an energy ministry official told Reuters, speaking anonymously. Each month of elevated prices deepens Bangladesh’s vulnerability.


Petrobangla requested additional subsidies from the government to cover the gap between international prices and domestic retail rates. The government’s own fiscal position remained tight, with limited room for increased energy subsidies. “There is no fuel shortage at this moment. In fact, we have increased fuel supply compared to last year,” Minister Tuku assured recently. However, in early March, he addressed the issue: “If consumption is controlled, we will be able to run March properly. If committed supplies arrive, the pressure will ease.” Domestic fuel prices remained unchanged for the third consecutive month by absorbing rising import costs through heavy subsidies. BDT 5,000 crore (50 billion, about USD 407.4 million) was spent on subsidies in March alone , adding to the strain on the budget and further widening the gap with international market prices. Diesel is being sold under subsidy at BDT 100 (USD 0.82) per liter, while prices of octane remain at BDT 120 (USD 0.98) per litre, while the market price remains at BDT 180 (USD 1.61) and BDT 150.72 (USD 1.22) respectively.


Listening before helping: Why community involvement is essential for peace in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh

The article was first published in Peace News . An edited version is published below with permission. The arrival of more than 1 million Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh since 2017 has transformed the social and economic landscape of Cox’s Bazar district. International attention has largely focused on the urgent humanitarian needs of displaced populations living in a few dozen camps . Yet the experience of the surrounding host communities, who share land, resources, and economic spaces with refugees, reveals a need for international organizations to engage more deeply with host and refugee communities in Cox’s Bazar. In places such as Teknaf , a municipality in Cox’s Bazar district in south-eastern Bangladesh, local residents say the pressure on livelihoods and social relations has grown steadily in recent years. UNDP Bangladesh Reports stated that rising living costs, shrinking day labor opportunities, and rumors about unequal aid distribution have contributed to tensions between refugees and host communities.


Read more: Inside Bangladesh’s Rohingya camps where fire continues to shape the existence of refugees Abdur Rahim, who helps coordinate a small network of community volunteers in Teknaf, recalls how these concerns began to intensify during the early years of the Rohingya influx. The in-depth interview was conducted by the author in December 2025. “Rumors spread quickly that refugees were receiving large amounts of assistance while local people were being left behind,” Rahim explained. “At the same time, prices for basic goods went up, and work opportunities became fewer.” Recognizing the growing tensions, Rahim and other volunteers began organizing informal discussions in December 2025 between representatives from refugee and host communities as part of a locally organized voluntary initiative. The meetings, which continue to this day, were not always easy. “At first, the conversations were tense, sometimes confrontational,” he said. “But gradually people began to understand each other’s situation.” Read more: Life inside the Kutupalong Rohingya refugee camp in Bangladesh Over time, these dialogues helped produce practical compromises, informal arrangements about market access, more open communication between communities, and local channels for resolving disputes before they escalated.


“Peace is not constructed in workshops,” Rahim said. “It develops through relationships.” Initiatives like these often rely on the support of international aid programs. Donors and development agencies provide funding for youth initiatives, mediation training, civic education programs, and early warning systems designed to identify emerging conflicts. For example, a peacebuilding program implemented by UNICEF and funded by the European Union supported more than 20,500 adolescents and youth from the Rohingya and host communities in Cox’s Bazar through training, dialogue activities, and the establishment of youth social hubs. In addition, youth resilience and social cohesion programs implemented by Save the Children in Cox’s Bazar have included structured youth engagement , training, and community-level interventions designed to strengthen resilience among both refugee and host communities. Without such external support, many local organizations would struggle to sustain their activities. International agencies also bring technical expertise and organizational resources that grassroots groups cannot always mobilize independently. Yet studies on humanitarian governance note that structural imbalances often limit the influence of local actors in decision-making processes.


Project frameworks are frequently designed in distant headquarters before meaningful consultation takes place with the communities where programs will be implemented, a challenge highlighted in several studies examining humanitarian governance and local participation. International organizations typically must submit detailed proposals to donors months in advance, including measurable outcomes and strict implementation schedules, reflecting funding structures that emphasize predefined indicators and timelines. In one union of Teknaf Upazila, tensions initially described by residents as religious disagreements were later linked to competition over market access and employment opportunities between host community vendors and refugee traders. In another locality in Cox’s Bazar district, concerns about youth radicalization were later found to be linked primarily to unemployment and limited access to vocational training and decision-making forums, issues widely documented in youth development assessments in the region. “When the conflict analysis is too shallow, the solutions also remain superficial,” said a community organizer in Teknaf who requested anonymity due to the sensitive nature of mediation work. Local organizations often find themselves navigating a difficult balancing act between two forms of accountability.


Studies on humanitarian accountability note that local organizations must respond to both donor reporting requirements and community expectations for meaningful outcomes. A breakthrough may appear in subtle ways: A softened tone between rival community leaders, a shared meal after years of mistrust, or the quiet reopening of communication between neighbors. Similar outcomes have been documented in community dialogue initiatives implemented in Cox’s Bazar, where local mediation efforts contributed to improved communication between host and refugee communities. “These are small shifts, but they are extremely important,” said Rahima Akter, a youth facilitator in Cox’s Bazar, during an in-person interview conducted in December 2025. “Unfortunately, they are difficult to capture in project reports.” Short funding cycles further complicate the work. Many peacebuilding initiatives operate on grants lasting two or three years, while trust-building processes often require much longer. “Trust in communities takes time,” the facilitator Jaber Ali said. “Sometimes, just when relationships begin to improve, the project funding ends.” When funding concludes, carefully cultivated networks can weaken. Trained mediators may lose the support structures that enabled them to intervene during earlier disputes, even as underlying tensions remain unresolved.


International agencies mobilized life-saving assistance rapidly following the Rohingya crisis, delivering shelter, food, and medical services to more than 900,000 Rohingya refugees in Cox’s Bazar. As a result, concerns about rising living costs, pressure on local infrastructure, and competition for jobs were widely reported among host communities in the years following the refugee influx. While international frameworks provide useful tools and guidelines, studies on adaptive peacebuilding caution that strategies successful in other contexts require careful adaptation to local realities. Many local conflicts are deeply entangled with political party rivalries, land governance disputes, and longstanding social hierarchies. These dynamics require responses grounded in local knowledge and relationships. Rather than withdrawal, local peacebuilders are calling for deeper collaboration, including co-designed processes involving community actors before project proposals are finalized and longer-term funding cycles that allow adaptation over time. Reducing reporting requirements for smaller grants has also been recommended in humanitarian reform discussions to allow community organizations to focus primarily on engagement rather than administrative compliance. Projects developed without meaningful local input risk overlooking grievances or reinforcing local inequalities, a concern highlighted in multiple studies examining participatory development practices.


By contrast, initiatives rooted in community ownership tend to prove more resilient; for example, studies on localized humanitarian action in Cox’s Bazar have demonstrated that community-led responses foster ownership and sustain communication channels even after formal project periods ended. As Bangladesh continues to navigate economic pressures, political polarization, and the ongoing humanitarian realities surrounding the Rohingya crisis, the importance of inclusive peacebuilding becomes even more apparent. International aid remains indispensable. Yet its effectiveness depends not only on financial resources and technical expertise, but also on humility and genuine partnership. At the end of one community mediation meeting in Teknaf, facilitators closed the session not with a list of performance indicators, but with a series of questions: Whom should we speak with first? Which community elders might help defuse tensions? How can trust be rebuilt, step by step? The answers to these questions rarely appear in official reports. Yet they form the quiet foundation of social cohesion. For local peacebuilders across Bangladesh, the lesson is clear: Lasting peace cannot be delivered from a distance. It must grow within communities themselves, shaped by local realities, and supported by international partners willing to listen before they act.


When technology fails women: Online abuse and Nigeria’s digital weak points

As a Nigerian who has spent years on X (formerly Twitter), I’ve seen a lot. I’ve witnessed trends come and go, policies shift, and communities build and dissolve. For a long time, I considered myself a “ conscious” internet user. I curated my timeline carefully, avoided unnecessary engagement, muted triggering keywords, and accepted the uncomfortable truth that the internet, especially for women, was never designed with our safety in mind. My work at Superbloom (a design non-profit and studio) — particularly on human-centered design projects and the tech policy design lab playbook on online gender-based violence — was my first real exposure to the scale and intensity of violence occurring online. I came to see how these forms of violence persist online: Victims remain scared and vulnerable, while perpetrators are rarely held accountable. A temporary ban is often the extent of the response, and they soon return with a new account and a new victim. Social media, once a place for connection, community-building, and entrepreneurship, has now become a battleground and hostile environment, with women often bearing the brunt of unprovoked abuse .


Furthermore, according to UN estimates , only 40 percent of countries have legislation protecting women and girls from online abuse, leaving much of the global population exposed . As a user experience (UX) designer, I’ve learned in my role how design decisions, sometimes invisible to users, shape real-world outcomes. Whether it’s a platform’s UX design or unseen aspects like data retention and user privacy, design choices can either protect or expose users. I began to understand that good design is not just intuitive; it protects, it is transparent, and it is accessible. However, I have noticed that most social platforms like X have allowed subtle, passive-aggressive content to proliferate . I have experienced this both personally and as an observer. This is especially the case with Grok, an AI assistant developed by Elon Musk’s xAI and built directly into X. It enables users to generate text and edit images from simple prompts, including transforming photos. Because it is embedded within a highly networked platform, Grok does not operate in isolation: its outputs can be instantly shared, amplified, and weaponized, raising new concerns about how AI-generated content circulates in already unsafe online environments. Before Grok, the internet was already hostile .


Women were attacked for their bodies , their religion, their political opinions , their accents, their identities, and more. Being outspoken, visible, or simply existing online as a woman — especially a Black Nigerian woman — often came with consequences. Studies show that while women all over the world often face online abuse, Black women face more online harassment than white women. Harassment became normalized, dogpiling was entertainment, and abuse was framed as “free speech.” These crimes, though they may appear subtle on the surface, often cause immeasurable harm to victims. Globally, research has consistently shown that women experience disproportionately high levels of online harassment, including but not limited to misogynistic abuse, cyberstalking, and coordinated harassment campaigns. Nigerian data suggests these patterns are even more pronounced locally. For example, ActionAid Nigeria reports that about 45 percent of Nigerian women have experienced cyberstalking, while broader studies on online harms indicate women and girls are among the most frequently targeted victims of digital violence. But after the introduction and widespread use of Grok, something shifted. What was once human-driven harassment began to feel systematized.


Although Grok did not invent online gender-based violence (OGBV), it has become a powerful tool in amplifying it at speed and scale. Structural conditions that can inform AI harm There are structural vulnerabilities embedded in Nigeria’s digital and institutional landscape that not only shape how AI is adopted but also amplify the harms that poorly governed systems can inflict. It is hardly news that our legal system is weak in fulfilling its duties under the rule of law. In Nigeria, the structural conditions shaping digital life do more than define access to technology. They actively shape who gets harmed, how quickly harm spreads, and how difficult it is to seek solutions. When poorly governed systems are introduced into this landscape, existing gender-based vulnerabilities are not only exposed but also magnified. Nigeria’s regulatory environment for AI remains fragmented ; current policies and frameworks addressing digital issues are spread across multiple agencies, creating confusion rather than clarity about who is responsible for which risks and how to enforce safeguards. One solid example of this dynamic is the recent global controversy around Grok.


Designed to generate and edit images from simple user prompts, Grok is being rapidly misused to produce millions of non-consensual, sexualized images, including images of women and minors. There have been a series of investigations and reports that documented how users on X openly used Grok’s image-editing features to manipulate photos of women and girls, including transforming ordinary photos into revealing or sexualized versions without consent. Even after platform policy updates, journalists and researchers reported that the tool could still generate sexualized imagery, in some cases, highlighting persistent moderation and enforcement gaps. In a country like mine, where online harms are already pervasive, and platform accountability remains weak, such AI tools are amplifying and accelerating existing patterns of abuse. The 2024 “ State of Online Harms in Nigeria report ” by Gatefield reveals that women were targeted in 58 percent of online abuse cases in the country, with X and Facebook identified as the primary platforms where abuse occurs (34 percent and 29 percent of reported cases, respectively). Yet only 24 percent of Nigerians find X responsive to complaints about online harm.


Recent research and projections also suggest the problem may grow significantly as generative AI tools become more widespread. A new report published by Gatefield in February 2026, “ Industrialized Harm: The Scale of AI-Facilitated Violence in Nigeria ,” estimates 70 million Nigerian women and girls could be exposed to AI-facilitated online abuse annually by 2030, with 30 million directly targeted. This gap between harm and accountability creates fertile ground for AI-enabled abuse to flourish. When platforms fail to enforce policies effectively, generative AI tools lower the barrier to producing and distributing exploitative content, compounding an already severe gendered digital safety crisis. In an environment where women are disproportionately targeted and reporting mechanisms are widely viewed as ineffective, AI does not introduce a new problem. Instead, it magnifies an existing one. Without effective moderation and enforcement on platforms like X, AI tools become accelerants of gender-based harm, lowering the barrier to producing and circulating exploitative content. Under X’s monetization policies , in which viral creators can earn money for clicks and engagement, perpetrators stand a chance to earn money from their actions. This is where algorithms matter. Platforms are not neutral spaces.


Algorithms decide what is surfaced, what trends, and what is rewarded with visibility, potentially at the expense of those most vulnerable. When AI-generated harassment is treated as “engaging content,” it gets amplified, and women, especially women from the Global majority, become collateral damage. How to design against harm instead of reacting to it At Superbloom, through our Tech Policy Design Lab work with Tope Ogundipe of TechSocietal, we developed a Gendered Privacy Evaluation Framework to help answer that question. Grounded in human rights principles and participatory research, the framework offers tech companies a practical way to assess whether their tools — especially AI systems — are reinforcing or reducing gendered harm. It pushes platforms to move beyond surface-level safety features and examine deeper systems: governance commitments, staff training on technology-facilitated gender-based violence, accessible grievance mechanisms, meaningful opt-in consent, data minimization, encryption, and genuine stakeholder engagement with women’s rights groups. AI can scale already existing inequalities. Applying a gendered privacy lens before and after deployment ensures that innovation does not come at the cost of women’s safety. The tools to design more responsibly already exist. The real question is whether platforms are willing to use them.


The next global health crisis is already here: Childhood trauma from war

The brutal reality of wars unfolding in our world, such as the current war in Ukraine , the Iran-Israel-US conflict, or the devastating humanitarian crisis in Gaza, reveals that war is never just fought on battlefields. It is fought on every road, in every schoolyard, and in every home. The latest war news dominates headlines, but behind the scenes, it is ordinary people, civilians, especially children, who suffer most, as seen in cases like that of a 21-month-old child in Gaza who was returned to his family with injuries that doctors said were consistent with torture. Children in war zones suffer lasting emotional, physical, and developmental consequences . While the global community often counts the visible toll, lives lost, schools destroyed, the wounds of trauma, displacement, and broken trust can follow children growing up in war zones for the rest of their lives.


Trauma, the number one predictor of lifelong struggles for children in war zones Trauma is one of the most serious challenges facing children living in war zones. While some physical injuries heal or can be managed, the invisible wounds of mental trauma can last a lifetime. Sadly, mental health is often overlooked, especially in violent areas. Understanding and addressing this trauma is key to helping these children heal and rebuild their lives. Increasingly, many experts argue that the psychological trauma caused by war should be recognized and treated as a global public health crisis. One way professionals working with children, such as child protective services, assess the state of a child entering care and how best to provide support is by screening for Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs) . These screenings include questions like: “Have you ever not had access to food, water or shelter? Have you lost one or more caregivers to illness, prison or divorce? Have you ever experienced violence from a family member? And did you experience unwanted sexual contact with an adult?”


There are 10 questions in total. These questions are used to discern the level of trauma that a child has experienced and are currently being used by social workers and psychologists in U.S. If a person experiences three or more ACEs, it puts them at a much higher risk for PTSD, depression, anxiety, suicide attempts, drug use, and many different kinds of physical illness, including cancer, high blood pressure and heart failure. A total of one in 10 people in the U.S will have three or more adverse childhood experiences. This is much fewer than the one in six children worldwide who are estimated to be living in active conflict zones, experiencing high levels of multiple ACEs all at once. When such a large portion of the world’s children are exposed to repeated trauma, the psychological impact of war becomes more than a humanitarian concern. It becomes a global health issue that will shape societies for decades. Current statistics of children in violent areas in the world Across the world, children continue to experience the devastating effects of war firsthand.


In Ukraine, thousands of children have been killed or injured , and millions have been displaced since the war began, leaving families struggling to rebuild daily life amid continued uncertainty. In West Asia, the recent war involving Iran has added to an already fragile regional situation. Reports indicate that hundreds of children have been killed or injured during the bombing, with attacks on schools and civilian areas raising serious humanitarian concerns. In Gaza, UNICEF spokesperson James Elder has described the territory as “the most dangerous place in the world to be a child.” Tens of thousands of children have been killed or injured, while hundreds of thousands have been displaced and now face severe humanitarian conditions. In Sudan, millions of children have also been displaced by ongoing conflict, leaving many without reliable access to food, education, healthcare, or safe shelter. For children living through these crises, war is not a distant event that flashes at them through the TV, but rather it surrounds them, dictating every part of their lives. Healing The good news is that children are resilient. There are some factors that buffer the effects of trauma, the most effective being a consistent, present, supportive, calming caregiver.


We, as adults, have an incredible opportunity to reduce and even reverse the effects of the trials and tribulations our young experience. Unfortunately, many children in conflict zones have lost either one or both primary caregivers in their lives, leaving them more susceptible to the effects of ACEs. Resilience in children who have experienced trauma doesn’t always mean returning to normal or “bouncing back.” After compounding ACEs like losing a home, belongings, loved ones, experiencing injuries, and much more, “normal” is hard to define. Many specialists in the field of trauma working with children think it is more realistic for children to experience something called “meaning making, ” where individuals derive meaning from their experiences, how they shape them, and how they can move forward. This process often requires psychological support, stable environments, and community networks that allow children to begin rebuilding their sense of safety and belonging. The collective responsibility to protect childhood Whether we reflect on wars happening today or consider how future conflicts might be prevented, one thing remains clear: children must be protected from the crushing weight of violence.


A generation that grows up surrounded by war is not necessarily a lost generation. With stability, support and opportunity, those same children can grow into leaders, innovators and advocates for a more peaceful world. But they cannot do it alone. The responsibility of the global community is not only to rebuild infrastructure but also to help children rebuild their sense of safety, stability and hope. This responsibility belongs not only to governments and international institutions but also to educators, humanitarian workers, community leaders and ordinary citizens. Supporting efforts that provide education, psychological care and stable environments for children affected by conflict, advocating for policies that protect civilians, and remaining informed about humanitarian crises are all ways individuals can help ensure that children are not left to carry the burden of war alone. The true cost of conflict is not measured only in destroyed buildings or lost territory. It is measured in the childhoods shaped by violence and in the collective responsibility we share to protect the generations growing up in its shadow.


Announcing Global Voices Spotlight!

As the need for responsible, multi-perspective news coverage grows increasingly urgent, and the situation for media organizations and news providers is made increasingly difficult, Global Voices is responding by leaning into our strengths: our twenty years of building a worldwide community and centering the stories our contributors, translators, researchers, and fellows feel are important. Stellar examples of this include the Climate Justice Fellowship , where we paired independent Sinophone and other global majority country journalists to assess the role of China in mitigating the global climate crisis; collaborative articles like this one on flooding events around the world; and cross-border stories like this one tracing human trafficking across the borders of South Asia and China. To fully leverage our amazing network and enable our readers to explore the full breadth of our cross-border, multilingual work, we are launching a new approach to our mission of amplifying the voices of those underrepresented in the digital sphere: Global Voices Spotlight . In addition to our regular coverage, every month we will be choosing an urgent theme to explore in depth across all our regions.


This range of perspectives will be grounded in our Global Voices values of human and digital rights — as always. It will also be complemented by collaborative articles, online panels, and analysis of key narratives using our Civic Media Observatory methodology. Cross-cutting essays will highlight the trends, exceptions, and insights that we gain from exploring the vital issues of today with contributors from across the globe, instead of the narrow reporting that focuses on the rich, famous, and available for comment. With these special, thematic issues, we will bring our readers new understanding, raise the profile of important topics, and illuminate connections across regions, borders, and languages. We’re confident that, in every issue, you’ll find more than one angle that you hadn’t considered before. We’re excited to start this process with a collection of articles on how the use of, promotion of, and resistance to AI is playing out for the Global Majority, from the way AI is weaponized in elections and conflicts, to the consequences for low-resource languages, to the impacts on human rights, and much more.


In May, we’ll be looking at climate solutions around the world, from technology to society, and with all the complications and nuance that you expect from Global Voices stories. We’ll be announcing more themes soon, and would love reader feedback on what you would like us to explore. You can see the Spotlight issues on this page , and explore them in detail. We’d also love to do more on each of these topics than we can afford to do with our current funding levels. Listed below, you’ll find opportunities to support specific themes. Contribute to the issues on topics you care about, and help us add more articles, analysis, and multimedia initiatives, for more cross-cutting insights to help you understand the world. Support Global Voices’ Spotlight: Statelessness Support the Global Voices Spotlight: Gender diversity Support the Global Voices Spotlight: Global crisis, local solutions Support our first Global Voices Spotlight Issue: Human Perspectives on AI!


Australian creatives push back against ‘AI theft’

Artists, journalists, and Aboriginal cultural workers in Australia have initiated the “Stop AI Theft” campaign to demand stronger protection for their creative output amid the rising use of generative artificial intelligence (generative AI). The Tech Council of Australia reported in August 2025 that 84 percent of Australians in office jobs use AI at work. According to Tech Council research, AI in Australia could create up to AUD 115 billion (over USD 79 billion) in economic value annually and 200,000 jobs by 2030. But the widespread adoption of AI has also raised concerns about its potential harm to society, including significant disruptions to the creative industry. In recent years, artists have argued that AI has been undermining their livelihoods and, in some cases, stealing their work altogether. Many of the most popular generative AI models illegally scraped content from the internet without creators’ permission, which the models then use to generate “new” content. In some cases, the models spit out nearly identical materials to the original copyrighted item.


A group of voice actors said their work was cloned without their knowledge. Local journalists said their reports were plagiarized and used on AI-generated news websites. A January 2026 report published by the University of Sydney warned that journalists are increasingly being rendered invisible in Generative AI search results. Meanwhile, Indigenous activists say people have used generative AI models to produce and sell fake Indigenous art. Citing the need to counter the detrimental impact of AI, artists and media workers have banded together in launching the “Stop AI Theft” campaign. Media, Entertainment and Arts Alliance chief executive Erin Madeley summed up the rationale of the campaign. For the big Silicon Valley tech companies that own these machines, their business model is built on taking others’ work and selling it as their own and what we’ve seen so far is the thin end of the wedge. It is theft, plain and simple – theft of people’s voices, their faces, their music, their stories and art.


If left unchecked, the increased use of AI tools in the media, arts, and creative industries will lead to mass job losses and the end of intellectual property as we know it. It will also drive the erosion of our news and information to the point where the community cannot tell fact from fiction. Activists launched the campaign with the hashtag #PayUp, to emphasize how big tech companies are profiting off artists’ work while the artists themselves are continually losing business. As authorities seek to boost AI-related investments, they initially considered revamping copyright laws to allow AI to mine and train local online content. This was opposed by local content creators and media institutions. In July 2024, MEAA appeared at the Senate Select Committee hearing on Adopting Artificial Intelligence and raised the following demands to the government. Give users the power to opt-out of having their work used for training AI. Legislate to force companies to compensate creative and media workers for the work that has been used to train AI. Enact rules around transparency forcing companies to publicly disclose what materials they’ve used to train AI.


Aside from lobbying for the enactment of policy measures, the “Stop AI Theft” campaign also encouraged local artists to sign an open letter addressed to Silicon Valley tech companies. Dear CEOs and owners of Amazon, Google, Meta, Microsoft, Open AI and X, We are the enablers of cultural production and dissemination, in all communities and across the generations. Our work is the essential lifeblood of healthy democracies and functional societies. Our output is unique and original, and you are stealing it. We are not going to sit idle while you devalue our work and degrade our society. Our work is not a free input to be fed into your machines. We demand to be paid when our work is used by your company, and we demand compensation for the work you have stolen from us. “We already know that big tech has been profiting from stealing the work of Australia’s creative workers and journalists, and calls to legitimize this theft are incomprehensible,” said Joseph Mitchell, assistant secretary of the Australian Council of Trade Unions.


The “Stop AI Theft” campaign held a dialogue with tech companies in August 2025 about the demand for transparency and remuneration. It celebrated the Federal government’s announcement in October 2025 to maintain copyright laws to protect local artists and creative workers. This commitment was reflected in the National AI Plan unveiled by the government in December 2025. Australia has strong protections in place to address many risks, but the technology is fast-moving and regulation must keep pace. That’s why the government continues to assess the suitability of existing laws in the context of AI. The government has provided certainty to Australian creators and media workers by ruling out a text and data mining exception in Australian copyright law. The latest update in the “Stop AI Theft” campaign acknowledged the success in blocking the push of tech companies to change copyright laws that would have given them free access to Australian creative works to train AI.


Novel ‘Le Sang du Pouvoir’ by Hubert Kolani delves into African power

In spaces where freedom of expression is under threat, criticism seldom leads to meaningful change. As journalists and essayists face significant risks in addressing the inner workings of power, fiction offers an alternative solution. This is the gamble Hubert Kolani , a trained lawyer and young Togolese author, took with his first novel, “Le Sang du Pouvoir” (The Blood of Power). In this French-language novel, he candidly explores the concerning inner workings of African politics, which he calls “dark politics”: power struggles, human sacrifices, and the murky links between power and spirituality. The author describes his novel as a space of freedom where shameful truths materialize through fictional characters. He explained to Global Voices that “Le Sang du Pouvoir,” the first in a series of novels, tells the story of a strong, complex female figure who rejects the misery all too often associated with African stories. Jean Sovon (JS): Why did you choose a novel to address political power in Africa ?


Hubert Kolani (HK) : Je pense que le roman reste un excellent moyen de parler de sujets aussi sensibles que le pouvoir politique en Afrique. Il laisse à l’auteur une liberté de parole que l’essai ou le journalisme ne donnent pas. Je peux dire que la fiction est pour beaucoup d’auteurs un bouclier. Elle permet de dire des vérités sans désigner nommément des acteurs et de raconter des réalités que les gens vivent sans oser forcément les formuler. Le romancier est dans ce cadre-là, un peu plus protégé. Le journaliste doit quant à lui toujours se référer à des faits vérifiables. L’essayiste doit prendre clairement position sur son sujet. Le roman fait appel à des personnages imaginaires dont les douleurs, les peurs, les aventures sont pourtant bien réelles. La fiction permet d’aller là où ni le journaliste ni l’essayiste ne peuvent aller, surtout lorsque qu'on essaie de décrire le côté un peu sombre du pouvoir politique en Afrique, sujet alambiqué dont le roman peut plus facilement capter la complexité. Hubert Kolani (HK) : I believe novels are an excellent way to address subjects as sensitive as political power in Africa.


They give authors the freedom of expression that essays and journalism don’t. Fiction is a shield for many authors. It helps us tell hard truths without naming names and share people’s lived realities without daring to explicitly state them. On that basis, novelists are slightly more protected. Meanwhile, journalists must always refer to verifiable facts. Essayists must take a clear stance on their subject. Novels use imaginary characters whose suffering, fears, and experiences are very much real. Fiction allows us to go where no journalist or essayist can go, especially when describing the darker side of political power in Africa. Novels can more easily capture the complexity of the matter. JS: Does your novel say things that another format couldn’t? HK : Oui, absolument. Et c’est pour cette raison en particulier que j’ai choisi de devenir romancier. Parler de sujets politiques sous certains cieux c’est se dessiner une cible dans le dos. Dans nos sociétés africaines, la parole publique est souvent surveillée, canalisée. Un journaliste qui enquête sur les arcanes du pouvoir prend des risques, un essayiste qui parle de ce genre de sujets peut se voir censurer.


Le roman reste une histoire qui peut être lue et discutée sans que personne ne soit directement mis en cause. Ce que la parole contrainte a empêché de dire hier, la fiction peut le dire aujourd’hui. HK : Yes, absolutely. This is the very reason I became a novelist. Addressing political matters puts a target on your back in some places. In our African societies, public discourse is often monitored and controlled. Journalists take risks investigating the inner workings of power, and essayists may be censored when addressing these matters. A novel remains a story people can read and discuss without any direct implications. What controlled dialogue prevented us from saying yesterday, fiction can say today. JS: What themes does your novel cover? HK : Au-delà, des intrigues politiques, des amitiés brisées et des choix déchirants, vous trouverez dans ce roman la résilience féminine. C'est un clin d’œil à la femme africaine, forte et déterminée capable de surmonter les pires épreuves pour sauver sa vie et celle de sa famille. Je parle aussi du mysticisme dans sa forme la plus noire et la plus horrible.


Il s’agit d’une réalité vécue, et très souvent tue, et loin d'un folklore pittoresque. Dans la politique africaine le pouvoir ne se donne pas, il s’arrache. J'ai abordé également l’amour, un puissant amour maternel et un fort amour charnel. Que serions-nous dans ce monde de brutes sans un peu d’amour ? HK: Aside from political intrigue, broken friendships, and tough choices, you will find womens’ resilience in this novel. It’s a tribute to the strong, determined African women who can overcome the toughest hardships to save their lives and those of their families. I also address mysticism in its darkest, most horrific form. It’s a lived reality, often kept quiet, that’s a far cry from quaint folklore. In African politics, power isn’t granted; it’s seized. I also dealt with love: powerful maternal love and strong carnal love. What would be in this cruel world without a little love? JS: Does your generation see political power differently from the last? HK : Ma génération s’intéresse déjà bien plus au sujet politique et le conçoit dans une approche bien différente de la génération passée.


La génération de nos pères a longtemps pensé la politique comme une affaire de fidélité communautaire. Ils ont grandi dans un système où la parole critique se faisait rare et où le silence était une forme de protection. Notre génération, grâce à l’avènement d’internet et des réseaux sociaux voit ce qui se passe ailleurs, compare et questionne et n’est plus dans l’acceptation silencieuse. Dans ce roman, je définis la politique de deux manières: concrètement en terme d’organisation de la société et de recherche de l’intérêt commun, et de façon plus abstraite, en y décrivant les luttes d’influence, les douleurs, les sacrifices, les peurs, et les liens que la politique a avec la spiritualité en Afrique. En un mot: la Dark-politique: ce sujet est souvent évoqué tel des murmures dans des vases clos, j’ai voulu à travers cette œuvre , m’en faire l’écho. HK : My generation is much more interested in politics and approaches it differently from the last generation. Our fathers’ generation has long considered politics a matter of community loyalty. They grew up in a system where criticism was rare, and silence was a form of protection.


Our generation, through the rise of the internet and social media, sees what’s happening elsewhere, compares and questions it, and no longer silently accepts it. In this novel, I describe politics in two ways. Concretely, in terms of the organization of society and the common good, and more abstractly, in describing the power struggles, suffering, sacrifices, fears, and the links between politics and spirituality in Africa. In a nutshell, dark politics. I wanted to share this issue, often whispered behind closed doors, through this novel. JS: What picture did you paint of Africa ? HK: Beaucoup font l’erreur de ne décrire à propos de l’Afrique que du misérabilisme, des crises, du sous-développement, de la pauvreté, du pessimisme, de la noirceur. Ces maux, certes, minent le quotidien de la plupart des Africains, mais notre génération rêve d’une Afrique nouvelle, riche et prospère. Une Afrique dans laquelle chaque Africain pourra vivre ses rêves – un rêve qui ne soit pas une vie en Occident, fusse-t-elle médiocre. J'évite donc de décrire cette Afrique pauvre et enrhumée de douleur. Je reste convaincu que l’Afrique est un continent de vie.


C’est pour cela qu’à travers cette œuvre, vous découvrirez des personnages qui rient, qui aiment, qui doutent, qui rêvent. Vous y trouverez des familles, des amitiés, de la complicité, de l’amour. La dame de fer qui donne son titre à ce premier tome n’est pas seulement une figure de force et de détermination, c’est une femme avec ses fragilités, ses blessures, ses contradictions. A travers elle, je montre également que le pouvoir ne transforme pas forcément en monstres ceux qui le détiennent comme beaucoup le pensent, mais plutôt que le pouvoir fait naître en certains de ceux qui l’exercent, de nouvelles personnes perverties par des systèmes. J’ai toujours voulu être cet écrivain qui cherche à comprendre avant de juger, qui veut montrer la complexité avant de condamner. HK : Many make the mistake of only discussing the misery, crises, underdevelopment, poverty, pessimism, and bleakness within Africa. Although these problems undoubtedly hinder the daily lives of most Africans, our generation dreams of a new, wealthy, prosperous Africa. An Africa where all Africans can live their dreams, a dream that is not of a life in the West, however mediocre it may be.


Therefore, I avoided talking about this poor Africa, full of suffering. As I continue to believe Africa is a continent with life, you will find characters in this novel who laugh, love, doubt, and dream. You will find families, friendships, bonds, and love. ‘The Iron Lady,’ who gave this first volume its title, isn’t only a figure of strength and determination, but a woman with fragilities, scars, and problems. Through her, I also show how power doesn’t necessarily turn those holding it into monsters, as many think. Instead, it creates a new individual corrupted by the system in some cases. I have always wanted to be the author who seeks to understand before judging, showing the complexity before condemning. JS: Does your novel aim to change readers? HK : Si ce roman a vocation à changer une chose dans l’esprit des lecteurs, c’est tout d’abord leur mentalité ; notre façon à nous tous de concevoir la politique. L'ouvrage n’a pas vocation à donner de leçon mais de transformer notre société pour la rendre plus juste, plus libre, plus fraternelle.


La Dark-politique est un univers de violence, de massacres, de tueries, de peines et de douleurs mais en même temps, le lecteur y trouve les aspirations enfouies d’un homme profondément amoureux de l’Afrique. Ce livre espère toucher les cœurs pour que tous ensemble nous essayons de redonner un peu d’humanité au paysage politique en général et africain en particulier. La politique doit rester un débat d’idées dans la construction du destin collectif. Il s'agit donc d’un livre qui décrit la réalité crue du pouvoir, le côté sombre de la politique africaine, dans un univers romanesque enivrant et haletant. Une merveilleuse histoire qui tient en haleine de la première à la dernière page. Le roman invite à la réflexion, au débat et peut-être à une forme de guérison par la parole. Quelqu’un m’a dit un jour que “le pouvoir se paie toujours d’un prix”, “Qu’on ne fait pas de la politique pour aller au paradis”: que chacun y comprenne ce qu’il peut. Pour moi, Le sang du pouvoir reste simplement une histoire, et à chacun d’y trouver sa propre vérité. HK: If this novel aims to change anything in readers’ minds, it’s their way of thinking; our way of looking at politics.


The book doesn’t aim to lecture, but to transform our society, making it fairer, freer, and more fraternal. Dark politics is a world of violence, massacres, killings, sorrow, and hardship, but at the same time, readers discover the hidden ambitions of a man deeply in love with Africa. This book aims to touch hearts so we can try to restore some humanity in the overall political landscape, and Africa in particular. Politics should remain an exchange of ideas to build a collective future. This book, therefore, describes the harsh reality of power, the dark side of African politics, in an exhilarating and breathtaking novelistic world. A wonderful story that keeps us hooked from the first page until the last. The novel encourages reflection, discussion, and perhaps a form of healing through words. Someone once told me that ‘power always comes at a price’ and ‘we don’t go into politics to get to heaven.’ Let everyone make of that what they will. For me, ‘Le Sang du Pouvoir’ is just a story, and it’s up to everyone to find their own truth in it.


Inside China’s hidden eating disorder communities

On Chinese social media platforms, eating disorders are no longer only discussed as health conditions — they are increasingly reframed as disciplined lifestyles, aesthetic goals, and even sources of belonging. I first encountered these communities almost by accident. Having grown up in an environment where body weight was constantly monitored and discussed, I was already familiar with the pressure surrounding thinness. In recent years, public discourse in China has further amplified concerns about weight and fitness. As a frequent user of Xiaohongshu (a Chinese social media platform similar to TikTok), where conversations about body image are highly visible, I became curious about how far these discussions extended. One day, I searched for the term “ED,” which stands for eating disorder. What appeared was not health information, but an entry point into a hidden ecosystem — one that reframed illness as aspiration. A search on coded keywords, such as “ED woman” (ED 女), “CT” (Cui Tu or induced vomiting), leads users to semi-hidden networks where extreme thinness is normalized and even celebrated. Within this corner of the internet, members share daily routines, track calorie intake, and exchange strategies for suppressing hunger, often framed as self-improvement.


The population of Chinese teenagers suffering from eating disorders has almost doubled in the past three decades, according to a trend study based on national data. More recent research shows that more than 21 percent of Chinese teenagers showed signs of eating disorders, and more than 11 percent suffered from symptoms that carry clinical significance. The study also shows that the female population aged 15 to 19 from lower-income families and poor regions faces the highest risk. Researchers find that the interplay among pubertal development, increased social media exposure, and heightened body image concerns has contributed to the upward trend. One widely circulated post describes a weekly eating routine from a user identifying herself as “160 cm/33 kg,” listing meals such as a single egg, small portions of rice, or low-calorie substitutes. Another post, entitled “160/29 kg daily intake,” documents a day’s intake that amounts to little more than a cucumber and minimal calories, presented not as alarming but as an aspirational routine. A defining feature of these communities is the ritual of daily “check-ins.” Users document their weight, caloric intake, and perceived success or failure in maintaining restrictive eating habits.


Typical posts read like personal logs: “Day 12: 500 kcal, no carbs, stayed strong,” or “Failed today, ate too much, starting over tomorrow.” These updates are not isolated expressions but part of a collective rhythm, where repetition reinforces commitment. Comment sections function as spaces of mutual reinforcement. Users encourage one another to persist, with comments such as: 宝宝好美，感觉再瘦20斤会更漂亮 Baby, you are so beautiful, and would look even better if another 20 pounds were lost. 瘦成这样了腰还这么粗 She is already so skinny, yet her waist is still so thick. These comments praise extreme restriction as evidence of willpower. Rather than being framed as harmful, these practices are aestheticized — presented as part of a desirable lifestyle associated with discipline, beauty, and control. In this context, suffering is not only normalized but reinterpreted as positive. To evade content moderation and censorship, participants rely on a constantly evolving coded language. For example, users may refer to purging with emojis such as 🐰 (tù, meaning rabbit as well as vomiting) or use abbreviations like “ct” and “jc” (jieshi, meaning dietary restriction), creating a shared vocabulary that is difficult for outsiders to interpret.


Over time, these evolving codes form subcultural systems that remain legible primarily to insiders. Visual culture plays a central role in sustaining these communities. Images of extremely thin bodies — visible collarbones, fragile arms, protruding ribs, narrow waists — are circulated as aspirational references. Trends such as the “A4 waist challenge,” which emerged in 2016 and promoted an ideal waistline no wider than a sheet of A4 paper, reflect a longer history of thinness as a beauty standard. In curated posts, food itself is also aestheticized: a small, neatly plated portion becomes a symbol of restraint, transforming scarcity into visual desirability. At the same time, many participants explicitly articulate the psychological grip of these practices. In one post, a user writes that she knows her weight has reached a dangerous level, yet still feels unable to stop: she describes standing on a scale each morning, unable to accept even minor increases, despite rationally understanding that the numbers “mean nothing.” She concludes that weight is the only thing she feels she can control.


Such reflections reveal a tension between awareness and compulsion, where individuals recognize harm yet remain embedded in systems that reward it. Particularly concerning is the presence of younger users in the ED networks, where they shared their strategies to conceal school and parental monitoring of their food intake and weight loss, such as using induced vomiting after family meals. In these exchanges, harmful behaviors are collectively celebrated and maintained. Such trends have also alerted online Chinese media outlets. An article published on the WeChat account Her Magazine describes how eating disorders — including anorexia and bulimia — form an “ED subculture” among young women online in China: 这些女孩仿佛将减肥当成了运动员挑战极限记录一般，每天都在跟体重秤上的数字较劲，多一斤焦虑不安，少一斤成就感满满。[…] 为追求“网红身材”，ED这种心理疾病便成为了女孩们的“救命良药”，无数女孩开始追求ED，并成为ED妹。 与许多心理疾病一样，ED一旦患上，便会深深陷入其中且难以自拔。同时，它还自带“圈层文化”。[…] 这个所谓的圈子，其实是一座囚笼。这类圈子往往会切断人与真实世界的联系，只与“同类”抱团取暖。因此，在她们看来，脱离圈子，便意味着失去身份认同，失去那点仅存的“被理解”的感觉。 These girls seem to treat weight loss as if they were athletes attempting to break world records, constantly battling the numbers on the scale every day — an extra pound brings anxiety, while a pound lost fills them with a sense of accomplishment. […] In the pursuit of the ‘Social media-celebrity body,’ eating disorders hasve become a ‘lifesaving remedy’ for these girls, leading countless young women to embrace EDs and become part of the ‘ED community.’


Like many mental illnesses, once someone develops an ED, they become deeply entrenched in it and find it difficult to break free. At the same time, it comes with its own ‘subculture circle.’ […] This social ‘circle’ is, in reality, a prison. Such circles often sever one’s connection to the real world, leaving individuals to seek solace only among “like-minded” peers, and leaving the circle means losing their sense of identity and that last shred of feeling “understood.” While Chinese platforms actively moderate certain types of content, eating disorder-related material continues to circulate through coded and community-driven channels. This reveals the limits of keyword-based moderation systems, particularly when users rapidly adapt their language and practices to avoid moderation. Similar dynamics can be observed globally. On platforms such as Instagram and TikTok, users also employ coded hashtags and visual cues to share harmful content while avoiding detection.


TikTok became a hotbed of ED promotion through its “SkinnyTok” subcommunity, which idealized the notion of thinness at all costs, until the hashtag and prominent SkinnyTok influencers were banned in June 2025 , though the unhealthy content persists. The Chinese case highlights how such communities evolve within a more tightly regulated digital environment, demonstrating both constraint and adaptation. My initial search was driven by curiosity, but what it revealed was a system that quietly reshapes how young users understand self-control, beauty, and harm. As long as thinness remains a powerful cultural ideal, such coded networks are likely to persist. Addressing this issue requires more than content removal. It demands a deeper understanding of how digital communities shape norms around the body, discipline, and belonging, as well as positive measures to empower teenagers who want greater autonomy and to take control of their lives by providing them with more opportunities at schools, within their families, and in society.