Nobody saw it coming. After years of brutal war in Syria, many believed the battle lines had stabilized, leaving only sporadic skirmishes or even the potential for negotiations.
On December 12, 2022, a group of Azerbaijani environmentalists blocked the only road connecting Armenia with the Nagorno-Karabakh enclave. The news went largely unnoticed by mainstream media, perhaps because it was difficult to understand.
On November 20, 2023, Ulvi Hasanli, director of
AbzasMedia —an independent media outlet in Azerbaijan—was arrested when he was about to board a taxi to Baku airport. Meanwhile, uniformed officers raided AbzasMedia's headquarters in the Azerbaijani capital, claiming to have found 40,000 euros in cash, which was used as evidence to accuse Hasanli of currency smuggling.
A 30-year-old woman speaks before tens of thousands gathered in southern Pakistan. Men of all ages listen to her speech in almost reverential silence, many holding up her portrait and chanting her name: Mahrang Baloch.
“We are the mothers, daughters, and sisters of the missing and murdered Baloch. We are thousands.” Mahrang Baloch, a 28-year-old doctor from Pakistan's Balochistan province, is blunt when introducing herself and the rest of a group protesting in central Islamabad.
At 400 kilometres north of the Arctic Circle, Russian journalist Giorgi Chentemirov says he had already been out of the country for six months when the Russian Ministry of Justice labeled him a "foreign agent."
On October 28, Armita Geravand, a 16-year-old Iranian teenager, passed away a month after she had been beaten by the police in the Tehran subway for not wearing the Islamic veil correctly.
On September 19, the sound of bombs reminded the world of a long-forgotten conflict. In the Caucasus, the Azerbaijan’s army was launching a massive attack against a small enclave, Nagorno-Karabakh.
The video shows an empty house with even the door frames and windows torn out. Graffiti on the wall recalls that the building was once requisitioned by the Sham Legion, an Islamist faction from northern Syria.
A new catastrophe in the Mediterranean, this time off the coast of Greece. The number of drowned still to be determined — barely 100 survivors speak of more than 700 passengers on board— will be added to almost 30,000 lost at sea since 2014,
according to the International Organization for Migrations.
Geologists have described the region as the most similar to Mars on Earth. Whether it's violent sandstorms or ice found on its surface, we get more news from the red planet than from Balochistan.
The woman we're meeting in a house on the outskirts of Biarritz -800 kilometres southwest of Paris- is a university professor, the author of several books and hundreds of articles, and a well-known human rights activist.
There are 151 wind turbines and more than 130 kilometres of connection routes and power lines on the Fosen peninsula, 530 kilometres north of Oslo. Norwegian judges say that they should not be there, and the owners of those lands since time immemorial do too.
Harassing Palestinians, vandalizing their cars and houses, occupying their lands: Gilad Sade, a 36-year-old Israeli, recalls his day-to-day life when he belonged to a Jewish supremacist organization.
Geology explains the terrible earthquake that shook Turkey and Syria on February 6 with academic coldness: the Arabian, Eurasian and African plates pressure the Anatolian plate. On the surface, geopolitics resorts to concepts like "fault", "tension" or "fracture" to explain things too. When one looks at Turkey, both disciplines’ maps can easily overlap each other, with a death toll calculated in the tens of thousands.
It's 23 hours a day in a cell without natural light and just one to walk around in a 7x4-metre courtyard. For Pablo González, an independent Spanish-Russian journalist, it's been almost a year spent in solitary confinement in Poland.
It was a hellish journey aboard a crammed boat amid three-meter waves. It had started on a Libyan beach, and at the gates of winter. On December 11, the last 500 migrants rescued from the waters of the Mediterranean disembarked exhausted but relieved in the south of Italy. They had all been rescued by vessels run by NGOs Doctors Without Borders (MSF) and SOS Humanity.
It's mostly people in their twenties sitting on a terrace in the shade of a beautiful grove of trees: black clothes, piercings, tattoos and some purple streaks in their hair.
It usually takes hours of driving in a 4X4 before heading out on foot through a dense forest. There, protected under a sea of beech trees from the view of the drones, it is the guerrillas of the PJAK (Party for a Free Life in Kurdistan) who find us.
There is a main hall as well as workshops, laboratories and, of course, a cafeteria, where the half-hour break flies by amid card games and laughs. It could well be any university if it wasn't for those men armed with assault rifles at the entrance.
There are those cows watching the fight in the mud of rusty Soviet cars; there are those tethered dogs that bark next to bathtubs full of rainwater, or those cats that frolic in freedom. This is Armenia, a state of three million deep in the heart of the Caucasus region.