Amid War in Iran, the World's Rarest Big Cat Is Running Out of Time

By Kaitlin Murray 

In the face of conflict, road accidents, and other threats, scientists are working to pull the Asiatic cheetah back from the brink of extinction.

Asiatic cheetah. Erfan Kouchari. CC BY 4.0. 

In February 2026, nine days before the United States and Israel launched strikes against Iran, rangers filmed a female cheetah with five cubs in the North Khorasan province, the largest litter ever recorded for the subspecies. This comes at a time when fewer than 30 Asiatic cheetahs are believed to be left in the wild. While the subspecies once roamed vast distances spanning the Arabian Peninsula, the Middle East, and Central Asia, today they are only spotted in the rugged deserts of Iran. Given the uncertainty of the ongoing war and the Asiatic cheetah’s classification as critically endangered, it is more important than ever to ensure their future is protected. 

While a cousin of the African cheetah, the subspecies is visibly different, with smaller heads, shorter legs, thicker coats, and a more powerful neck. It is believed they diverged from the African cheetah between 32,000 and 67,000 years ago, adapting to the different terrain of the Asian continent over time. The Asiatic cheetah was known throughout history, with the Mughal emperors keeping them for hunting and Emperor Akbar reportedly keeping over 1,000 during his lifetime. 

Throughout the 20th century, the cheetah began disappearing. By the 1940s, it had gone extinct in 13 countries, including Saudi Arabia, Afghanistan, Iraq, and India. Pakistan’s final sighting was in 1997. What remains of the species now roam the desert regions of Yazd, Semnan, Kerman and Isfahan in Iran, which is only 16% of its original territory. While the country granted the species protected status in 1959, the Islamic Revolution and the Iran-Iraq War halted conservation efforts for decades. Today, the global population stands at 27 individuals that have been ID-carded, plus five in breeding sites and six more in captivity.

Asiatic cheetah lives in rugged terrain. Mousa Mazinanian. CC BY 4.0. 

Current Threats to Conservation

Long before the first bombs were dropped in February 2026, the Asiatic cheetah was already fighting for its survival. The number in 2026 had recovered from only 20 individuals recorded in August 2025 and from 12 at its lowest point in 2022. Every new cub recorded is a victory, given the numerous threats they face, including poaching, human-wildlife conflict, habitat fragmentation, low genetic diversity, and road accidents, all of which threaten their livelihoods.

Of all these obstacles, road accidents are the deadliest. The story of beloved Helia, the female with the cubs who made history in January 2026, illustrates the danger of road accidents. In 2024, she was spotted with two cubs in the Miandasht Wildlife Refuge after traveling more than 130 kilometers from the Turan reserve. Tragically, one of her cubs was struck and killed by a vehicle on the “Death Road” that cuts through the Semnan province. For a week after her cub's death, she stayed near the road, with volunteers on guard to block traffic in case they tried to cross again. 

The ongoing war adds another layer to an already volatile crisis. While the cheetah was given a protected status and national parks were established, the Islamic Revolution in 1979 and the subsequent Iran-Iraq War set back conservation work by decades. Recently, conservationists have been the target of questioning and even arrests by the Iranian government. 

One of the most notable organizations focused on protecting the cheetah is the Persian Wildlife Heritage Foundation, which had previous partnerships with the UN and international NGOs. The Tehran-based group used camera traps to monitor wildlife, including the Persian leopard, the Asiatic cheetah and the Asiatic black bear. Camera traps monitor wildlife without human presence and are widely used around the globe. However, in Iran, the usage was enough for nine members of the organization to be arrested for espionage in 2018. 

One member, Kavous Seyed-Emami, an Iranian-Canadian scientist and the foundation’s founder, died after two weeks in Evin Prison under “suspicious circumstances.” Though his death was ruled a suicide, his family tried to launch an investigation. Thankfully, the other seven members were freed in April 2024, more than six years after their arrest. This sent a chill throughout the international conservation community, as foreign investments and international organizations were hesitant to work in Iran again. 

While camera traps are a great start for tracking cheetah movements, experts have cited that GPS collars could be an important tool in the future. They have been used before to study Persian leopards and, according to recently published research, could “provide essential insights into habitat use, movements and survival, enabling more effective conservation strategies.”

For Iranians, the cheetah is more than just an endangered animal; it is a source of national pride and cultural identity. When Iran’s national football team took to the pitch at the 2014 World Cup in Brazil, the cheetah was printed on their kit. Meraj Airlines painted the animal across their planes. 

Looking Toward the Future

Amid the ongoing war, sanctions from Western nations and sporadic internet shutdowns, conservationists in Iran are concerned about the fate of the species. When will the conflict end? What is the current state of the cheetahs in inaccessible regions? How will new funding be accessed? These are all questions that conservationists and scientists around the world continue to ask themselves in the face of such an uncertain future. 

Jamshid Parchizadeh, a research scientist, when asked by Mongabay about the future of the war, stated, “Before the war, cheetah conservation received limited funding from the government. But after the war, I doubt that the government has any money left for the conservation of the cheetah.” 

GET INVOLVED: 

Getting involved in protecting the cheetah in Iran can be complicated, especially with the ongoing conflict. The Cheetah Conservation Fund has permits to work in Iran that allow for close partnerships with groups on the ground. Visit their site to learn more about how you can help their cause to protect cheetahs around the world. 

Other ways to get involved include learning about the Asiatic cheetah and raising awareness. You can help by sharing the cheetah's story online and spreading awareness of its protection. For updates and news on the status of the cheetah, visit Mongabay, an independent news platform focused on global and environmental challenges. The Felidae Fund also provides information and steps to raise awareness through social media platforms and community work.

Kaitlin Murray

Kaitlin Siena Murray is a travel journalist and global storyteller documenting cultures, historical places, and the people and social impact movements helping the world. Raised worldschooling across more than 129 countries with degrees in anthropology and history, her writing is driven by a commitment to global citizenship, capturing the diversity and beauty of the world through the lens of culture, history, and social change.

As the World Cup Nears, Reboot FIFA Challenges Football’s Governing Body

By Sehr Khosla

President Donald Trump and FIFA President Gianni Infantino announce Kennedy Center as FIFA World Cup 2025 draw location. The White House. CC0.

One week before the start of the 2026 FIFA World Cup, advocacy organization FairSquare launched Reboot FIFA, a public campaign urging supporters to join what it hopes will become the largest ethics complaint ever filed against the association. The complaint accuses FIFA President Gianni Infantino of repeatedly violating the organization’s political neutrality rules through his public support for U.S. President Donald Trump and argues that the allegations reflect deeper governance problems within football’s governing body.

Launched early this June, Reboot FIFA invites members of the public to add their names to an updated ethics complaint originally submitted by FairSquare in December 2025.

FairSquare argues that Infantino’s appearances alongside Trump, including his involvement with the FIFA Peace Prize awarded to the president and subsequent cooperation with Trump’s Board of Peace initiative, violated FIFA’s requirement that officials remain politically neutral. FIFA has not publicly accepted that characterization and maintains that its governance reforms have strengthened accountability and oversight.

With global attention turning toward the World Cup, the campaign highlights that the tournament provides a rare opportunity to pressure FIFA over issues of accountability and transparency.

For many supporters, the controversy recalls FIFA’s 2015 corruption scandal, when U.S. prosecutors charged dozens of football officials in a sweeping investigation into bribery, racketeering and money laundering. The scandal forced the departure of longtime FIFA President Sepp Blatter and prompted promises of far-reaching institutional reform.

Under Infantino, FIFA has repeatedly pointed to increased transparency measures, independent audits and billions of dollars invested in football development worldwide. Following “deep-rooted governance and management reforms,” as a FIFA spokesperson told The Guardian, the organization insists that it is now more accountable than ever.

For FairSquare, however, the persistence of controversy suggests otherwise. The NGO argues that FIFA’s problems are structural rather than personal.

“FairSquare has long argued that FIFA’s structural problems cannot be fixed from within and that external reform is critical,” the organization wrote in launching the campaign.

More significant to fans than the complaint itself is what it reveals about FIFA’s governance model, with FairSquare arguing that the organization simultaneously acts as football’s regulator and commercial powerhouse, creating conflicts of interest. Among the reforms proposed by the campaign are stronger auditing of FIFA’s finances, greater transparency in decision-making, and a clearer separation between its commercial operations and governance functions.

The campaign has also received support from the Norwegian Football Federation, whose president, Lise Klaveness, has called for the complaint to be properly assessed by FIFA’s ethics committee. This backing matters for fans because it suggests that concerns about governance are not limited to activists and watchdog groups but are increasingly being voiced by member associations themselves.

Whether Reboot FIFA succeeds in forcing change remains uncertain, especially considering that previous reform efforts have often struggled against an institution whose leadership is ultimately accountable to the same internal structures that elect it. Nonetheless, the campaign’s significance lies less in the fate of a single ethics complaint than in the question it raises. Years after FIFA’s most serious corruption crisis, football's governing body continues to face accusations of weak accountability and conflicts of interest. If FIFA wishes to claim it represents the global game, critics argue, it must do more than organize tournaments. Now, it must convince players, supporters and member associations that it is answerable to them as well.

Readers can learn more about the Reboot FIFA campaign and add their names to the ethics complaint through FairSquare's campaign website: https://rebootfifa.com/sign/

Sehr Khosla

Sehr is a student at Georgetown University studying Classics and Government with a minor in Journalism. In the future, she hopes to combine her passion for social justice with communications to advocate for change. Outside of writing, she enjoys travelling and reading murder mysteries.

Why Nigeria’s Largest Floating Village Is Being Demolished

By Julia Sassaman

Thousands of residents of Makoko, Nigeria’s largest floating village, have been displaced after the Lagos State Government carried out demolitions as part of broader redevelopment efforts.

A young boy canoeing through the Makoko canals. Heinrich Boll Stiftung. CC BY-SA 2.0.

Sometimes called the “Dubai of Africa,” Lagos is a rapidly growing city on the Lagos Lagoon in southwest Nigeria, undergoing large-scale construction, tourism and housing development. As Nigeria’s largest city, Lagos is home to more than 14 million residents. Despite increasing investment in high-end developments and infrastructure on its islands, approximately 60% to 75% of residents live in informal settlements. These settlements typically consist of displaced or impoverished individuals who establish communities on state or private land without legal ownership, often lacking clean water, sanitation or basic urban services.

The city struggles to accommodate its growing population alongside high poverty rates and a shortage of affordable housing. Climate-related challenges, such as sea-level rise and coastal erosion, have also increased pressure on the Lagos State Government (LASG) to implement redevelopment projects. However, urban renewal efforts have drawn criticism from many Lagosians, who argue these developments often prioritize the wealthy over the broader population. Demolitions of informal settlement communities have further fueled controversy, prompting questions about the LASG’s redevelopment priorities. 

One of the most well-known informal settlements in Lagos is Makoko. Founded in the late 19th century by Egun fishing families, Makoko later became home to immigrants and residents priced out of other areas of the city. Located across land and water, the community’s economy centers on fishing and aquatic commerce. Homes, schools, businesses, churches and medical clinics rest on wooden stilted structures above the Lagos Lagoon, separated by canals and only navigable by canoe. Population estimates are approximate, ranging from 85,000 to over 1 million residents; Makoko lacks formal recognition from the LASG, making accurate census data difficult to obtain. Community members face challenges like inadequate sanitation, unreliable electricity, limited access to education and healthcare and overcrowding. 

In an interview with the BBC, Lagos real estate developer Peacemaker Afolabi states, "Everywhere in Lagos is prime land. And waterfront is always prime.” Demolitions of Makoko began in December 2025 and continued into 2026. The LASG has affirmed that the demolitions only targeted structures within a 100 to 250-meter radius of high-voltage power lines, which pose safety risks to residents, and that proper warning was provided beforehand.

Aerial view of Makoko waterfront settlements on the Lagos Lagoon. S.aderogba. CC BY-SA 4.0.

The demolitions were carried out by bulldozers and armed police, who used force and tear gas against protestors opposing the evictions. Thousands of homes, shops and community sites were destroyed. At least 40,000 people were displaced, sleeping on the demolition debris, under bridges or in canoes without personal belongings, safe shelter or the means to continue their livelihoods. As of May 2026, a resettlement plan to move displaced residents to Agbowa-Ikosi, a community built by refugees, has been proposed by the Lagos State Assembly, but the LASG and Makoko leadership have yet to reach a concrete agreement. 

The 2025-2026 demolitions are not isolated incidents. Makoko has experienced demolitions and displacement tied to private development projects dating back to 2005. Similarly, in 2012, residents only received three days' notice before thousands of homes were removed, again citing proximity to power lines. Since then, Makoko residents have proposed sustainable reconstruction plans that preserve the community’s cultural and historical ties to the waterfront, including the Makoko/Iwaya Regeneration Plan, which the LASG has not implemented.   

The city government maintains that the demolitions protect both the coastal environment and residents living near high-voltage power lines. However, residents believe that the bulldozing extended beyond the warned radius and that adequate warning was not given. The LASG also faces criticism for failing to recognize generational customary land rights and providing no financial support to displaced residents. 

The absence of community-based reconstruction plans and affordable housing options in Lagos has drawn skepticism from the UN, NGOs and Makoko residents. In a 2026 press release, experts from the UN Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights advised Lagos state authorities to suspend demolitions, provide the necessary assistance to displaced communities and involve Makoko residents in future developments. 

GET INVOLVED:

Follow organizations such as the International Network for Economic,

Social and Cultural Rights (ESCR-Net), which frequently posts articles, resources and events focused on global housing and human rights issues. ESCR-Net also released a solidarity letter demanding an end to forced evictions in Makoko, accountability for the resulting harms caused and stronger protections for residents’ rights. 

Donate or contribute expertise to JEI, a community-based legal advocacy organization providing paralegal services to Nigerian communities, including Makoko. Additionally, support their YouTube channel, Media4Change, a partnership with storytellers from Nigerian informal settlements that regularly posts video projects documenting the experiences and challenges facing these communities.

Follow, support or volunteer with Nigeria-based organizations empowering local communities, including Home of Mother Earth Foundation, Spaces for Change and the Nigerian Slum/Informal Settlement Federation. 

Explore the Slum Dwellers International website to learn more about human rights issues facing informal settlements globally, as well as their advocacy and support in expanding access to economic opportunities and essential services.

Julia Sassaman

Julia is a fourth-year student at the University of Michigan studying political science and international studies. She recently studied abroad in Geneva, Switzerland, researching post-conflict tourism and international human rights law. After graduation, she hopes to move to Europe to pursue a career centered on global human rights. In her free time, she enjoys painting, baking, journaling, and reading.

Solar-Powered Resistance: How Afghan Women Are Coding in Secret

By Carson Jelinek

In rural Afghanistan, where electricity supply is often unreliable and economic opportunities are limited, significant change is underway through the adoption of solar energy.

Schoolchildren in Afghanistan. WikiImages. Pixabay.

Behind closed doors and beyond the reach of Taliban restrictions, women are logging on, learning to code and building digital careers in secret. Since the return of the Taliban in 2021, women across Afghanistan have faced sweeping restrictions on education and employment. Secondary schools and universities have largely been closed to them, cutting off traditional pathways to careers and independence. But in response, a new kind of resistance has emerged, one that relies on laptops, Wi-Fi signals and solar panels.

Solar panels outside. Nisar Ahmed Jamali. Pexels.

In many rural regions of Afghanistan, the central power grid is frequently unreliable or entirely absent. This limitation has, in some cases, become advantageous. With nearly 300 sunny days in the country each year, solar energy offers a reliable and low-maintenance power source. Residents increasingly utilize compact, discreet solar systems to operate internet routers and charge electronic devices. As a result, women are able to access online learning platforms from home without drawing attention.

Women in blue burqas. Faruk Tokluoglu. Pexels.

These solar-powered hubs enable women to enroll in confidential coding bootcamps and digital training programs. Murtaza Jafari, an Afghan refugee in Greece, launched one such initiative last year to support his community. As part of his company, Afghan Geeks, he provides dozens of Afghan women with technical instruction and assists them in obtaining remote internships and job opportunities. For many of his students, this work represents more than education; it serves as a vital support system. A 24-year-old student, Sodaba, described the program as her sole opportunity to pursue her aspirations. Such narratives are increasingly prevalent as more women utilize digital platforms to regain agency over their futures.

Afghan classroom. Mehdi Khoshnejad. Pexels.

This underground network of learners is part of what some are calling a “digital resistance.” Unable to gather publicly or attend formal institutions, Afghan women are developing decentralized education systems. Lessons are conducted in secrecy, often shared through encrypted messaging apps or coordinated schedules to avoid detection. What is an ordinary online class elsewhere becomes an act of defiance here.

Rural village in Afghan countryside. Burhan Azizi. Pexels.

In this context, technology is not just a tool but a means of empowerment. Coding, in particular, provides a distinct advantage. It is a skill that can be acquired remotely, practiced independently and monetized on a global scale. Freelance platforms and remote work opportunities enable women to earn income without leaving their homes, thereby circumventing many restrictions associated with physical workplaces. Multiple organizations support this movement by providing resources, funding and training. Initiatives such as the SheDreams Foundation and the Society of Women Coders Afghanistan aim to teach programming skills to thousands of Afghan women, often at no cost. Other organizations, including Sahar Education and the Digital Citizen Fund, emphasize broader digital literacy by offering STEAM education and offline-access tools for individuals with limited connectivity.

Grassroots initiatives also directly support home-based learning. Programs facilitated by platforms such as GlobalGiving provide equipment, internet access and secure learning environments for girls who otherwise lack educational opportunities. Additionally, advocacy organizations like Afghan Women Leaders Connect amplify these narratives and link global donors with women-led initiatives operating locally. Where opportunities are systematically diminished, Afghan women are developing innovative strategies to establish their own. Through coding, they are constructing careers, fostering communities and forging discreet avenues to autonomy, supported by solar energy and sustained by a strong commitment to education.

GET INVOLVED:

Code to Inspire is a nonprofit that teaches Afghan women coding, digital skills and entrepreneurship, helping them build careers and achieve financial independence through remote work opportunities.

Digital Citizen Fund expands access to technology, STEAM education and entrepreneurship training for women and girls, helping them gain digital literacy and financial independence.

Women for Afghan Women provides protection, legal support, education and advocacy for women and girls facing violence and inequality, working to promote long-term social and cultural change.

Free Press Unlimited supports journalists and media organizations around the world to ensure access to independent, reliable information, especially in regions with limited press freedom.

Access Now is a global nonprofit that defends digital rights, promotes online freedom of expression and works to ensure secure and open internet access for vulnerable communities.

Carson Jelinek

Carson is a 22 year old writer and filmmaker studying film and media productions at Arizona State University. His work explores travel, culture, and the people behind the places, with a focus on stories that encourage curiosity and global understanding.

The Galápagos Drug Route

By Carol Khorramchahi

A UNESCO wildlife sanctuary is being pulled into the Pacific cocaine trade, putting conservation and community life on the same collision course.

Boats docked in Santa Cruz, Ecuador. Andres Medina. Unsplash.

The Galapagos are marketed as a place outside the modern world, featuring blue water, strict park rules and animals that seem to have missed the memo about humans. UNESCO calls the islands a “living museum and showcase of evolution.”

That is the Galapagos most travelers recognize. But there is another Galapagos, quieter and more recent, shaped by the same geography that makes the islands famous. The archipelago sits deep in the eastern Pacific, far enough from the mainland to feel remote and close enough to ride along lengthy maritime routes that move north toward Central America and beyond. Trafficking networks do not need the Galapagos to be a city; they need it to be a waypoint.

In early 2026, Al Jazeera reported that the islands are increasingly being used as a refueling and staging zone for cocaine shipments moving through the Pacific, with authorities intercepting boats and searching for hidden storage points. The story lands hard because the Galapagos economy depends on tourism and regulated fishing, not on the shadow economy of organized crime. When trafficking pressure rises, the damage is not only criminal: It is social.

Part of the pull is simple distance. Long routes require fuel and logistics, and isolated stretches of ocean provide cover. A Pacific trafficking analysis by the U.N. Office on Drugs and Crime describes expanding transnational organized crime in the region and the importance of maritime routes for moving illicit drugs.

Another part is Ecuador’s wider security crisis, which is pushing criminal networks to innovate and spread. The International Crisis Group warns that Ecuador’s organized crime surge is tied to the country’s role in global cocaine flows and violent competition among criminal groups. That shift does not stay on the mainland: It radiates outward, including into strategic maritime zones.

The consequences in the Galapagos do not always look like those in Hollywood. They can look like corruption pressure on small businesses; fishermen being approached to sell information, fuel or services; authorities trying to police an enormous marine area with limited assets while also protecting one of the most sensitive ecosystems on Earth.

Officials are taking the threat seriously. In March 2025, the U.S. Embassy in Ecuador said Ambassador Art Brown visited the Galapagos and discussed security challenges, including illicit trafficking and illegal fishing, as part of coordination with local and national authorities. The U.S. Embassy has also emphasized the scale of maritime interdictions more broadly. The country’s Ministry of Defense said Ecuador seized 135 tons of drugs at sea in 2025, a record it framed as a major blow to trafficking networks.

The larger lesson is uncomfortable: Trafficking routes shift like water. When enforcement tightens in one corridor, networks test another. The Galapagos are now part of that map, and the challenge is no longer only protecting wildlife; it is protecting a community and a global treasure from being turned into infrastructure for a drug economy.

GET INVOLVED:
Support conservation and community protection efforts through the Galapagos Conservancy and the Charles Darwin Foundation. Follow organized crime and security analysis through the International Crisis Group Ecuador page and regional trafficking research through the UNODC

Carol Khorramchahi

Carol Khorramchahi is a student at Boston University, where she studies English and Psychology and minors in Journalism. She enjoys writing and reporting on stories that bring together culture, identity, and community, and has experience in both newsroom reporting and digital media. She is especially interested in thoughtful storytelling with a global lens.

Europe’s TikTok Crackdown

Carol Khorramchahi

As European leaders push age limits and tougher platform rules, the debate is no longer whether social media affects teens but rather what lawmakers should do about it.

Students using smartphones in classroom. RDNE Stock project. Pexels.

In Europe, the debate over teen social media use is moving fast. What used to sound like a parenting argument about how much screen time is too much is increasingly becoming a policy fight over age limits, platform design and whether companies should be legally forced to protect minors. Recent proposals in countries including Spain, Greece, France, Britain and Germany show how quickly governments are hardening their approaches to apps like TikTok and Instagram.

At the European Union level, lawmakers are pushing for a broader shift. In a November 2025 resolution, the European Parliament called for a harmonized digital minimum age of 16 for using social media, AI companions and video-sharing platforms while still allowing access for ages 13 to 16 with parental consent. The resolution is not legally binding, but it signals where the political momentum is heading: less focus on individual parental controls and more focus on rules that platforms must follow.

Germany is one of the clearest examples of that momentum. Reuters reported on Feb. 21, 2026, that Germany’s ruling conservatives backed a motion to ban social media use for children under 14, push stricter digital age verification for teenagers and support fines for platforms that fail to enforce limits. That does not mean a nationwide ban will happen immediately, as Germany’s federal system makes media regulation more complicated, but it shows how mainstream these proposals have become.

This is also why Australia keeps coming up in the European debate. Julie Inman Grant, Australia’s eSafety Commissioner, says age-restricted platforms must now take “reasonable steps” to prevent under-16s from creating or keeping accounts, and platforms can face major penalties if they fail to comply. The model matters because it shifts the burden from parents and kids to tech companies, which is exactly the direction many European policymakers now favor.

Still, the move is not without criticism. Professor Sonia Livingstone at the London School of Economics and Political Science argues that governments should be cautious and build better evidence before rushing into broad bans. That tension is at the center of the story; many officials believe action is overdue, while researchers and rights advocates warn that blunt bans may create new problems, including privacy concerns around age verification and weaker oversight if teens move to less-regulated spaces.

For parents, the practical takeaway is simple. The conversation is no longer just about family rules at home. Across Europe, governments are now asking whether social media platforms should be treated more like products with age restrictions and if companies, not families, should be held responsible when those safeguards fail.

GET INVOLVED:

Learn more about youth online safety policy through the European Parliament’s digital policy coverage, follow implementation updates through Australia’s eSafety Commissioner social media age restrictions page and read research-based perspectives on children’s digital rights from the London School of Economics’ Media@LSE.

Carol Khorramchahi

Carol Khorramchahi is a student at Boston University, where she studies English and Psychology and minors in Journalism. She enjoys writing and reporting on stories that bring together culture, identity, and community, and has experience in both newsroom reporting and digital media. She is especially interested in thoughtful storytelling with a global lens.

Tax Incentives Drive Gentrification in Puerto Rico

Kleigh Carroll

Wealthy investors and tech entrepreneurs are buying up land in Puerto Rico, driving up property rates and forcing locals out of their neighborhoods.

Street in San Juan, Puerto Rico. R9 Studios FL. CC-BY-2.0.

The island of Puerto Rico struggled with an economic recession from 2006 to 2017, during which the economy contracted by 10% and unemployment shot up to nearly 15% at its peak. To draw in foreign investment and stimulate economic growth, the government passed legislation designed to attract tech, finance and wealthy investors to the island. The first of two acts, Act 20, provided tax incentives for companies that establish and expand export services businesses in Puerto Rico. The second, Act 22, provided a total exemption from income taxes on all interest and dividends realized after an individual becomes a bona fide resident. The laws were further revised and repackaged in 2019, now known collectively as Act 60.  

Living in a United States territory, residents of Puerto Rico normally benefit from a unique tax status that exempts them from federal income tax. However, Act 60 does not apply to long-time residents of the island. As a result, the incentives have only worsened income inequality and exacerbated a mass exodus of Puerto Ricans to the United States. 

Brock Pierce speaks at a conference. Sebastiaan ter Burg. CC-BY-4.0.

In the aftermath of Hurricane Maria, which ravaged the island in 2017, U.S. crypto investors saw an opportunity to take advantage of tax incentives. They hoped to rebuild a part of the capital, San Juan, into what they called “Puertopia” — a modern city run on virtual money and public contracts. Members of this community who flocked to the island included men like Brock Pierce, co-founder of the digital currency Tether, and social media influencer Logan Paul. Upon moving to the island in 2017, Pierce and his partners took over numerous properties, including a beachfront hotel in Vieques and a museum in Old San Juan. They made grand promises to revitalize the economy using blockchain, refurbishing historic neighborhoods and building their own airports and docks. 

But there is little evidence that wealthy newcomers like Pierce have done anything to stimulate economic growth on the island. Instead, they have contributed to a surge in housing prices, driving up the cost of living for locals and displacing Puerto Rican families, especially in coastal towns like Rincon, where beachfront property is prime real estate. Housing prices in San Juan increased by 22% between 2018 and 2021 as tax law beneficiaries spent an estimated $1.3 billion on real estate between 2015 and 2019, according to research conducted by Puerto Rico’s Department of Economic Development and Commerce. 

Golf resort in coastal Puerto Rico. Your Golf Travel. CC BY-NC-ND 4.0.

According to the 2023 census, the median household income in Puerto Rico is $25,096 — less than a third of the median household income in the United States. Many locals forced to relocate have to commute longer distances and pay expensive tolls. Marina Reyes Franco, an art curator at the Museo de Arte Contemporaneo in Puerto Rico, told the Guardian that she has struggled to find affordable housing in recent years. She blames the tax laws, claiming, “At the end of the day, this is about a new era of colonialism and laws that only benefit the elite.”  

Gentrification culturally erodes communities and contributes to a loss of heritage and identity. Not only does it mean that locals can no longer afford to live in the places they call home, but an influx of wealthy newcomers can alter the character of neighborhoods, displacing local businesses, cultural institutions and the unique cultural fabric of Puerto Rican communities.

Solidarity With Puerto Rico Rally in Chicago, Illinois. Charles Edward Miller. CC BY-SA 2.0.

GET INVOLVED:

#AbolishAct60 is a grassroots movement aimed at repealing Act 60. By using social media to raise awareness and inspire collective action, they encourage the Puerto Rican diaspora to put pressure on their representatives. Help amplify their message here.

Diaspora en Resistencia is a nonprofit utilizing social media to mobilize support through online petitions demanding that the Puerto Rican government take action.

You can also petition your representatives to reevaluate Puerto Rican tax policies. U.S. lawmakers, including Chuck Schumer and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, have already spoken out against the measure. 

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Kleigh Carroll

Kleigh is a student at UC Berkeley studying Geography and Journalism. She hopes to integrate her skills in these fields in pursuit of a career in journalism. She is passionate about being outside, exploring, and writing in all of its forms. 

What Happened to Australia’s ‘Stolen Generation’?

Zoe Lodge

A look into the history and consequence of removal practices against indigenous Australian youth, the “Stolen Generation.”

Indigenous Australian children. Mark Roy. CC BY-SA 2.0.

From the early 20th century until as late as the 1970s, Australia carried out a government-sanctioned campaign that forcibly removed Indigenous children from their families in a bid to assimilate them into white society. While much global attention has focused on the legacy of boarding schools for Indigenous children in North America, similar practices were inflicted on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples under British colonial rule, often with the encouragement of the Roman Catholic Church and other Christian institutions. These efforts left generational scars, contributing to the systemic inequality and social fragmentation that persist into the modern day.

This dark chapter in Australian history is commonly referred to as the “Stolen Generation.” According to a report conducted by the U.S. Department of the Interior, which investigated comparable initiatives across the globe, roughly one in three Indigenous children in Australia were forcibly taken from their homes between 1910 and 1970. These children were placed in church- and state-run institutions or sent to live with white families that exemplified Western values, where they were stripped of their language, culture and identity. The underlying goal, both ideological and colonial, was to “civilize” these children by erasing their cultural roots and integrating them into a white-dominated society.

These practices were grounded in a racist belief system that deemed white Australian culture, rooted in Western European culture, inherently superior. Authorities at the time regarded the removal of Indigenous children as a moral duty and a practical solution to what was referred to as “the Aboriginal problem.” In reality, the result was a trauma that has rippled through generations. Children taken from their families frequently endured physical and emotional abuse, neglect, and, in many cases, sexual assault. They were often treated as cheap labor and denied access to adequate education and healthcare.

Although Australia never formally established a network of Indigenous boarding schools akin to those in the U.S. and Canada, the assimilationist mission was no less destructive. Despite making up only about 6% of Australia’s youth population, Indigenous children account for almost 50% of those in out-of-home care, which includes placement in foster care, group homes and with kinship carers. This gaping disparity emphasizes the lasting effects of these programs, leaving First Nations people to deal with dislocation, cultural loss and intergenerational trauma.

In recent years, the Australian government has taken steps to acknowledge and atone for these policies. A national apology was issued in 2008, followed by reparations exceeding $375 million for surviving members of the Stolen Generation. Additionally, individual states have contributed over $200 million in compensation funds for those affected. However, many argue that financial reparations, while important, cannot undo the profound harm caused by decades of systemic cultural erasure and displacement.

Australia’s history with its Indigenous populations is not unique. As the DOI report highlights, these tactics of domination and forced assimilation are not isolated but part of a broader colonial pattern seen across Canada, the United States and New Zealand. These initiatives, driven by the dual forces of governmental policies and religious institutions, sought to erase Indigenous culture in favor of Eurocentric ideals. From the earliest boarding schools in the United States and Canada to parallel programs in Australia and New Zealand, the common thread was the colonial power’s blatant disregard for the autonomy, culture and humanity of Indigenous communities, particularly through religious messaging and values. These institutions inflicted lasting harm, not only by physically removing children from their homes and subjecting them to abuse but also by obliterating the cultural traditions and languages that sustained Indigenous identities for generations. 

GET INVOLVED:

One of the primary organizations focused on bringing justice to the First Nations people of Australia is ANTAR, which offers several ways to get involved, raise awareness and contribute to justice for the Indigenous people of Australia. Locals can volunteer with the organizations, and citizens worldwide can contribute to fundraising efforts or participate in global education and awareness campaigns. Other organizations with similar missions include Pay the Rent, IWGIA and the Aboriginal Legal Service.

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Zoe Lodge

Zoe is a student at the University of California, Berkeley, where she is studying English and Politics, Philosophy, & Law. She combines her passion for writing with her love for travel, interest in combatting climate change, and concern for social justice issues.

Russian Poets and the Risk of Resistance

Kennedy Kiser

From public readings to prison cells, Russian poets are paying the price for speaking against the war.

Protesters march in Moscow against repression and fabricated charges. DonSimon. CC0.

“Kill me, militiaman!

You’ve already tasted blood!

You’ve seen how battle-ready brothers

Dig mass graves for the brotherly masses.

You’ll turn on the television—you’ll lose it,

Self-control has never been your strong suit.”

— Artyom Kamardin, “Kill Me, Militiaman”

In December 2023, Russian poet Artyon Kamardin was sentenced to seven years in prison for reciting anti-war verses during the public “Mayakovsky Readings” in Moscow. Fellow poet Yegor Shtovba, who performed at the same event, received a sentence of five and a half years. Kamardin was reportedly beaten and sexually assaulted during his arrest for reciting poetry in response to Russia’s war in Ukraine. 

Daria Serenko at the Moscow International Book Fair in 2019. Sergey Leschina. CC BY 4.0.

Their cases are not isolated. In April 2024, feminist poet and activist Daria Serenko was added to Russia’s federal wanted list. Known for combining poetry with political action, Serenko has faced years of harassment. Her arrest warrant, however, marked a shift in the state’s approach. Where once artists were threatened, they are now hunted.

Literature has long played a role in Russian resistance. During the Soviet era, banned texts circulated underground through samizdat networks. Today, Telegram channels and independent journals continue that tradition, sharing poetry that challenges state narratives. But the stakes are now much higher. Poets are not just being silenced; they are being criminalized. The penalties include imprisonment, forced exile and public brutality.

At the center of this increased repression is the state’s fear of language itself. Poetry distills dissent into a form that is emotionally direct and difficult to contain. It spreads quickly, often through digital platforms, in defiance of Russia’s 2022 censorship laws. Unlike journalism or political commentary, verse can bypass logic and speak directly to the reader’s gut. As poet Osip Mandelstam once wrote, “Only in Russia is poetry respected — it gets people killed. Is there anywhere else where poetry is so common a motive for murder?”

This crackdown is not limited to well-known names. Emerging writers, students and performers with modest online followings have also been detained or investigated for speech-related offenses. In some cases, posting a poem on VKontakte, Russia’s largest social network, has led to criminal charges. The line between art and activism has been effectively erased, especially for those who oppose the war.

International literary organizations have responded by offering emergency grants, publication platforms and legal aid. PEN International, Freemuse and countless other organizations have condemned Russia’s actions, calling for the immediate release of detained artists. Yet the risks persist. For many Russian writers, exile is the only path to safety, though it often comes with the painful cost of losing direct access to their audiences.

Repressing writers like Kamardin, Shtovba and Serenko reveals a broader strategy: to eliminate not just protest but the imagination of a different future. By imprisoning poets, the government also suppresses the potential for alternative visions of the world.

Still, Russian poetry persists. In exile, through online platforms and underground readings, writers continue to speak out. In a regime that fears language, each poem becomes an act of resistance.

GET INVOLVED:

These organizations offer support to writers and artists facing political persecution. From legal aid to international advocacy, their work helps protect freedom of expression and document human rights abuses. Getting involved means helping preserve creative resistance in some of the world’s most repressive environments.

To learn more about PEN International, click here.

To learn more about Freemuse, click here.

To learn more about Memorial International, click here.

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Kennedy Kiser

Kennedy is an English and Comparative Literature major at UNC Chapel Hill. She’s interested in storytelling, digital media, and narrative design. Outside of class, she writes fiction and explores visual culture through film and games. She hopes to pursue a PhD and eventually teach literature!

The Fight Against a Sinking City: Jakarta’s Sea Wall

Julia Kelley

While Indonesia’s government seeks to build a large sea wall to protect Jakarta from detrimental floods, criticism in the name of environmental and economic loss urges them to look for other solutions.

Flooding Ciliwung River in Jakarta Region. World Meteorological Organization. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

On the northwest coast of Indonesia stands Jakarta, the country’s capital and largest city. Sitting upon a low, flat alluvial plain with swampy areas, Jakarta is notably susceptible to major floods every few years from its multiple rivers and the adjoining Java Sea. This is made worse by excessive groundwater extraction and rising global sea levels, which have seen a worldwide mean increase of about eight to nine inches since 1880 due to global warming. Rapid urbanization, population growth and a change in land use have crowded more and more people into high-risk floodplain areas, leaving thousands displaced and large parts of the city submerged underwater during these natural disaster events. Although the Indonesian government built a coastal wall in 2002 to combat this, its collapse in a storm only five years later renewed the call for protective measures against destructive flooding. A new mega-project began in 2014, outlining both the construction of a new 29-mile-long sea wall and the so-called “Giant Sea Wall.” This “Giant Sea Wall,” a 20-mile-long artificial island shaped like a Garuda bird, Indonesia’s national symbol, will not only block storm surges but is also planned to contain homes, offices and recreational facilities. 

This massive undertaking officially kicked off in February 2025 and is said by supporters to be key in dealing with the country’s land subsidence and flooding. Both President Prabowo Subianto and Minister of Infrastructure and Regional Development Agus Harimurti Yudhoyono claim that the project could save the government billions of dollars in disaster mitigation over the following 30 years. Despite this optimism, critics have come out against the large project, citing an array of detrimental economic and environmental issues that could result from construction. For example, many have noted how the proposed solution does not address the over-extraction of groundwater, which comes from excessive use by industrial and economic activities. In addition, the sea wall could disrupt marine biodiversity and, subsequently, the fishing industry, one of Indonesia’s strongest monetary sources. According to Maleh Dadi Segoro, a coalition of environmental and social groups, the sea wall would potentially narrow and close fishing catch areas, disrupting marine ecosystems and threatening the livelihoods of those who depend on them for food and income. Jakarta already faces low water quality in its rivers and canals, causing sewage and a lack of proper sanitation. Closing off Jakarta Bay for this sea wall, critics say, would turn the water into a “septic tank” or “black lagoon,” which necessitates a stronger water sanitation system immediately. 

Controversy stirred up by the sea wall proposal has thus solicited alternative solutions. There has been an interest in using the water to its advantage, rather than working against it. This would entail diverting surplus waters, including that from floods, to surrounding farm areas where it could be stored. Restoration has also been widely proposed, as described by professor of oceanography Alan Koropitan for The Guardian: “If, instead, we can restore the bay and its polluted waters, that would mean something good for civilization in Indonesia.” Among all these suggested plans, environmental, social and economic protection are set at the center, urging the Indonesian government to rethink its monumental and costly plan. 

GET INVOLVED:

Those looking to help support those affected by floods and flood prevention in Indonesia can do so by checking out relief organizations, such as The International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies’ Disaster Response Emergency Fund, Peace Winds and Mercy Corps, all of which provide immediate and long-term support. Furthermore, individuals interested in combating sea level rise can look into taking actions that counter global warming, including using renewable energy, reducing greenhouse gas usage, considering electric vehicles, recycling, decreasing food waste, keeping the environment clean, or getting involved with local communities and government to organize plans and legislation. 

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Julia Kelley

Julia is a recent graduate from UC San Diego majoring in Sociocultural Anthropology with a minor in Art History. She is passionate about cultural studies and social justice, and one day hopes to obtain a postgraduate degree expanding on these subjects. In her free time, she enjoys reading, traveling, and spending time with her friends and family.

The History of Favelas, Brazil’s Impoverished Towns

Since their emergence in the 19th century, favelas have faced continuous struggles with poverty and crime, a symbol of the tension between Brazil’s government and its underrepresented communities.    

Favela of Telegrafo. patano. CC BY-SA 3.0. 

Scattered throughout Brazil are built-up communities known as favelas. These towns, principally found on the outskirts of large cities like Rio de Janeiro or Sao Paulo, are settlements marked by their unique urban development. While they are often associated with drugs, crime and poverty, these neighborhoods are a symbol of Brazil’s complex history. 

Finding their origins in the late 19th century, favelas emerged amid a period of tumultuous political and social change in Brazil. They initially formed after the country abolished slavery in 1888. With a large number of impoverished former slaves left homeless and unemployed, they started forming temporary shelters. These were mainly squatter settlements near their work, which was often found in cities. Over the years, these communities grew in number and size. However, it was only after the Canudos War in 1898 when they became the large settlements we know today. The War on Canudos, a deadly civil war that saw a massacre in the small town of Canudos, left almost 20,000 ex-soldiers homeless after their return from the conflict. With nowhere to live, the group established the first favelas in the federal state of Bahia. 

As Brazil’s class divide grew, more favelas popped up from the 1940s to the 1970s, becoming more organized with newly created residents’ associations serving as communicators between the towns and the government. Collaboration between the two led to agreements about water and electricity accessibility and construction investment, playing a large role in the favelas’ maintenance. However, rising politicians during this era also targeted the favelas for political gain, stereotyping their existence as slums breeding disease, illiteracy, crime and moral corruption. Many favelas were “removed” as a result, but other methods were sought out to build up and sustain the communities’ infrastructure. Despite various programs intending to improve buildings, Brazil’s economic crisis led to failed attempts at providing adequate housing in many areas. At the same time, cocaine markets were growing globally, and Brazil became a prominent drug producer and transit point between European and U.S. markets. These criminal groups formed during the 1980s and solidified in the early 2000s, attracting more police attention to the neighborhoods. 

In 2022, about 8.1% of Brazil’s population lived in favelas. Because of their densely built-up infrastructure and continuous struggles with crime and drugs, favelas have also become synonymous with slum life. Widespread poverty, in particular, has grown to be favela residents’ largest struggle, with economic hardship producing limits on food, healthcare and education. The government has proposed various methods to help tackle these ongoing issues and support the overall conditions of these communities. Authorities have introduced programs to help residents: setting up training programs, providing low-interest loans or materials to construct accommodations and building facilities such as health clinics or schools. Despite these attempts, favela residents still lack full sociopolitical representation and face police violence. Thus, activism in favela communities remains imperative, as residents continue to search for peace and draw attention to the need for social development and increased rights. 

GET INVOLVED:

Residents living in favelas struggle against police brutality, discrimination and stark poverty daily. Those looking to help address these issues can do so in several ways, including through making donations. Outreach organizations include: The Favela Foundation, focusing on the development of sustainable social and educational programs; Catalytic Communities, an NGO based in Rio de Janeiro bringing sustainable programs and legislative support to favelas; and The Gerando Falcões Fund of BrazilFoundation, bringing education and economic development to the favelas. Supporting favela locals in their fight to speak out against systemic violence is also very important. Using social media to follow, share and repost activism can help circulate news and reframe the stereotypes usually associated with favela communities. 

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Julia Kelley

Julia is a recent graduate from UC San Diego majoring in Sociocultural Anthropology with a minor in Art History. She is passionate about cultural studies and social justice, and one day hopes to obtain a postgraduate degree expanding on these subjects. In her free time, she enjoys reading, traveling, and spending time with her friends and family.