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Sixty Years Later. The Encyclical ‘Pacem in Terris’ Taught that War Is always Irrational.

Today, the atomic threat is less feared, but the risk of an increasingly widespread and devastating conflict is real: from Europe to the Pacific, from the Middle East to Africa.

 Sixty years ago, John XXIII’s encyclical ‘Pacem in Terris’ was published, arousing surprise and enthusiasm throughout the world. Everything about that encyclical seemed new and it was emphasized as the first pontifical document dedicated exclusively to peace and as the first that was addressed to all men of goodwill even if it was not so. There were, however, many innovations and one, in particular, was very important: the encyclical ruled out that, in the atomic age, war could bring justice. For some time now the Church had taught that war was evil, admitting it however as a legitimate defence and to restore a violated right. But John XXIII highlighted that the radically unbalanced relationship that had arisen between the means (nuclear weapon) and the end (restoring justice) now made it impossible to speak of a ‘just war’.

Pope John XXIII signs his encyclical “Peace on Earth” (“Pacem in Terris”) at the Vatican in 1963.

War had become an impracticable, counterproductive, irrational tool and, therefore, to be eliminated. It was what hundreds of millions, perhaps billions of men and women wanted to hear from such a high moral authority. Not only that: it was also what the top political leaders of the time, Kennedy and Khrushchev, wanted someone to say in order to deal more easily with internal resistance to an agreement with the ‘enemy’. It seemed as if the world was speaking with one voice, that of the Pope.
In ‘Pacem in Terris’, the novelty of the contents arose from a novelty of approach. That pontifical pronouncement was not based only on the Gospel and on Tradition but also on reading the signs of the times; that is, it was also based on the analysis of historical reality. This marked a detachment from a doctrine of the Church based on a theological and providential reading of history which, while judging war as an evil, considered it a punishment from God and therefore impossible to eliminate. With Pope John’s encyclical, the Church changed nothing of the evangelical message of which she is guardian and herald, but the encyclical has shown that even on the crucial themes of war and peace the Gospel is incarnated in ever new ways and resounds in forms unpublished in different historical contexts.
Today, war appears to many to be not only legitimate, but also useful and, in its own way, rational. It is rather peace that seems to have to be justified. When the first conflict after the fall of the Berlin Wall, the Gulf War, broke out in 1991, it was said that ‘it would be the last’ or that it was ‘necessary to avoid more ruinous future wars’. At the time, there were people who rightly denounced the hypocrisy of such statements, but today, in some respects, there would be some reason to regret them: they implicitly recognized peace as a principle to be made prevail, even if they served to cover choices of just the opposite.

Photo: 123rf

Behind that hypocrisy, in fact, there were many important things: the memory of the two world wars, the continuity with an unprecedented system of international organizations to safeguard peace, the desire to avoid a Third World War at all costs.  That war should be banned was still a widespread belief in 2003, when millions of people demonstrated around the world against the one in Iraq. Then something broke and war became ‘normal’. If today no one says that the war in Ukraine will be the last or that it is necessary to avoid others (and no one has said it even for those in Syria, Yemen, Georgia) it is because of the diminishment, after 1989, of the moral, political, institutional architecture built up after the Second World War.
Does this mean that the Gospel of peace no longer interprets the meaning of history? Quite the opposite: if the urgency for peace is no longer felt, it is because the signs of the times are no longer read and the history in which we are immersed is not questioned in depth. John XXIII’s lesson is more timely than ever as war rages in Ukraine and in other parts of the world. Even today, there is a Pope who insistently proclaims the Gospel of peace, in full continuity with the spirit of Pope John. But questioning the history of our time is not only the Pope’s responsibility. Supporters of peace should not only underline (rightly) its urgency, but also contribute to building a solid culture of peace interwoven with historical knowledge.

Photo: 123rf

The culture of the time in which ‘Pacem in Terris’ was written was able to combine eschatological hope and historical realism and show convincingly that war was no longer reasonably usable.
A similar effort is also needed today. Those who believe in peace cannot ignore the task of exploring – together with all ‘men of good will’ – the rational, concrete, compelling reasons, i.e, the historical reasons, why it is urgent to end the wars in Ukraine and elsewhere. Obviously, the millions of refugees from Ukraine – the relatives of the victims of Russian aggression, those who live daily under bombs – do not find it difficult to read the signs of the times.
But if those who suffer from war grasp more than others that the future of humanity passes along the road to peace, this must also be understood by those who live far from war and, above all, by the ruling classes of many countries which, directly or indirectly, can contribute to peace. In short, even by the Kennedys and Khrushchevs of today and, above all, by their more modest followers.

While the atomic threat is no longer as frightening as it was sixty years ago – though the danger of nuclear weapons has far from disappeared – the risk of an increasingly widespread and devastating conflict is dramatically real, from Europe to the Pacific, from the Middle East to Africa. Many do not understand that war always produces unpredictable outcomes, despite the fact that this has been clearly seen in Iraq, Afghanistan and many other places. But it is in everyone’s interest to prevent the world from plunging towards catastrophic outcomes and a culture is needed that clearly highlights the many reasons – human, political, economic – for this interest that is capable of revealing the irrationality of indifference. Undoubtedly, the prevalence of a single thought that today imprisons peoples and the elite, based on immediate interests, on the threat of violence, on the logic of bipolar opposition is only one of the causes of the increasingly frequent recourse to war. But it is a cause that reflects all others and a different culture is essential to find that peace which today is hard even to imagine.(Photo: 123rf)

Agostino Giovagnoli
Catholic University of Milan

 

Libya. The missing Uranium: a boomerang effect of NATO’s attack of 2011.

The revelation that 2.5 tonnes of uranium were missing from a warehouse in Southern Libya, by the International Atomic Energy Agency provides one more example of the damaging consequences of the 2011 attack by NATO to overthrow Muammar Gaddafi’s regime.

In 2016, President Barrack Obama admitted that this Libyan episode was the worst mistake of his second mandate, referring to the attack by NATO led by France and the U.K. which received US logistical support and was initially designed to implement Security Council resolution 1973. The text allowed air strikes to protect civilians by imposing a no-flight area but not a foreign occupation or the Jamahiriya’s leader’s toppling. In a matter of months, Libya which had managed to improve its relations with the West after being accused of sponsoring terrorism was disintegrated by the NATO attack. Libya which hosted the Tripoli AU-EU summit of 2010, prevented migrants to cross “en masse” the Mediterranean Sea towards Sicily and renounced 2003 its nuclear weapons programme, became “a mess” as deplored later Obama.

Field Marshal Khalifa Haftar, commander of the Libyan National Army (LNA). (Archive)

Up till now, the consequences are still being felt. The country remains split between the Tripoli-based and UN-backed Government of National Accord (GNA) and the Benghazi-based Libyan National Army (LNA), led by Field Marshal Khalifa Haftar, who took part in the coup that brought Gaddafi to power in 1969 and is loyal to the Libyan House of Representatives, a coalition of military units, local, tribal and Salafi militias.  Both sides have left large areas of the country in the hands of jihadists or foreign armed groups. In such context, the director of the International Atomic Energy Agency, Rafael Grossi raised the alarm by mid-March. Grossi announced that IAEA inspectors had found that 10 drums containing 2.5 tonnes of uranium ore concentrate “were not present as previously declared”, somewhere in Southern Libya.
Experts tried to avert panic, arguing that natural uranium cannot be immediately used for energy production or bomb fuel, owing to the complexity of the enrichment process, which requires the metal to be converted into a gas, and then spun in centrifuges to reach the levels needed. Nevertheless, natural uranium, if obtained by a group with the technological means and resources, can be refined to weapons-grade material over time, accordingly.
The missing uranium is a concentrate called “yellow cake” (isotope U-238) which “doesn’t really have any radiation in its current form”, said Scott Roecker from the Nuclear Threat Initiative, a global security organisation working on nuclear issues to the  BBC but accordingly, it could be used as “feedstock” for a nuclear weapons programme. Yet, the enrichment process for such use is a long one: the material has to be treated by a cascade of 50,000 centrifuges to achieve the required level.

The IAEA headquarters in Vienna. (Photo: IAEA)

According to a confidential statement from Grossi, the inspection which concluded that the drums were missing was planned initially for last year but was “postponed because of the security situation in the region” because of fighting between rival Libyan militias.
Eventually, the suspense did not last for long. Shortly after the IAEA statement, Gen. Khaled al-Mahjoub, commander of the LNA communications division said in a Facebook statement that the missing drums had been recovered at 5 kilometres from the warehouse where they were originally kept, in an area which was not in government-controlled territory, near the Chadian border.
The general suggested that they were stolen by Chadian rebels who mistook them for ammunition or weapons and abandoned them when they realized the drums were of little use to them.
There are plenty of plausible suspects since many Chadian and Sudanese armed groups are proliferating in the Southern Fezzan area. One of these is the Union des forces de la Résistance (UFR), whose leader Timam Erdimi lives in exile in Qatar. Another is the Front pour l’alternance et la concorde au Tchad (FACT), which struck a pact of non-aggression with the LNA but split in 2016 in two groups: General Mahamat Nouri’s Union des forces pour la démocratie et le développement (UFDD) and Mahamat Hassane Boulmaye’s Conseil de Commandement Militaire pour le Salut de la République (CCMSR).

Landscape in the Tibesti mountains east of the village of Bardai, Chad. (Photo: Michael Kerling)

All these groups are spread between the Kufra oasis and the Murzuq basin, near the Tibesti mountains of Chad. Further to the east, the Sudan Liberation Movement/Army are also present. According to UN experts, these armed groups are involved in the smuggling of weapons, drugs and the trafficking of human beings.
Ethnic connections make it easy for the Chadians whose ethnic groups, namely Tubus, are spread on both sides of the border.
The Libyan “mess” has provided a golden opportunity for the jihadists across Northern Africa and the Sahel. In November 2011, Mokhtar Belmokhtar, head of the North Africa-based al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM) told the Mauritanian news agency ANI: “We have been one of the main beneficiaries of the revolutions in the Arab world”. In an article published in 2017, titled “Brothers Came Back with Weapons. The Effects of Arms Proliferation from Libya”, Nicholas Marsh from the Oslo Peace Research Institute, reminds that large quantities of arms from Libya have been trafficked to Gaza, Mali, the Sinai, and Syria. Such proliferation has been facilitated by Colonel Gaddafi’s creation of arms and ammunition depots disseminated throughout Libya, in the context of a “people’s war” strategy planning the distribution of weapons to the militias and general population to fight a potential invasion.

Nuclear military program
After Gaddafi’s fall, hundreds of Tuareg fighters left Libya and drove across the desert to Mali and Niger, taking with them all sorts of weapons, including anti-tank weapons, mortars, and heavy machine guns. In 2014, a UN Security Council report documented that a “wide range of materiel including rifles and SA–7b antiaircraft missiles were smuggled out of the country by arms traffickers, criminal groups and armed groups”. At the time, Tunisian and Algerian armies intercepted several convoys transporting arms to Mali.
The networks are there. The possibility that uranium under whatever form can be smuggled out of Libya is high since for decades until 2003, Libya tried to acquire means to build its own nuclear bomb.

Hundreds of Tuareg fighters left Libya and drove across the desert to Mali and Niger. (Archive)

According to the IAEA, Libya acquired Yellowcake from Niger between 1978 and 1981. A Swiss engineer Urs Tinner, estimated that Libya received its first gas centrifuges in 2007 to treat 200 tonnes of yellow cake imported from Niger.
From 1984, Pakistan began contributing to Libya’s nuclear programme in exchange for the supply of uranium from a mine of the Aouzou strip, in northern Chad.
Libya, at that time, was in touch with the father of the Pakistani nuclear military programme, Abdul Qader Khan. In 2001, the director of the Central Intelligence Agency, George Tenet in a “top secret” report to President George H. Bush warned that Libya could boast from an atomic bomb by 2007. In such a context, it is likely that more than ten drums may have disappeared. Another detail adds to the confusion: the video shared by the LNA on social media on 16 March shows 18 drums, rather than the 10 mentioned both by the IAEA, raising this question: does anyone have the correct account?

Saif al-Islam Gaddafi, son of late Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi. (Archive)

What if the thieves had found a buyer? After all, the planet is not short of states which want to develop their own military nuclear capacity despite NATO’s attempts to prevent them to do so. Anyway, the incident is the last straw on the camel’s back for France whose 2011 intervention decided by President Nicolas Sarkozy had a terrible boomerang effect. It boosted jihadist activities in the Sahel and ended with a French military presence in Mali and Burkina Faso in 2022. That is a very high price for a decision which wrote one of her advisers to US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton in an e-mail sent in April 2011, had little to do with humanitarian concerns. This view is shared by the French investigative news website Mediapart which claims, like Gaddafi’s son, Saif al Islam and former Libyan PM Baghdadi Mahmudi that Libya bankrolled Sarkozy’s presidential campaign of 2007 and later tried to eliminate evidence of it. Such claim is also sustained by mentions of the payments in the late former oil minister Shukri Ghanem’s diaries. (Open Photo:123rf)

François Misser

Africa and the Synod. Walking Together.

The upcoming World Synod of Bishops and its preparations in synodal processes around the world show how the signs of the times challenge the Church today in the light of the Gospel. We can no longer hide the great general problems currently shaking it.
Sr. Anne Béatrice Faye, Senegalese, a religious of the Congregation of the Immaculate Conception of Castres, reflects on the challenges of the African Church.

First of all, in these reflections of mine, I would like to make three affirmations on the synodal process of the Church in Africa. Despite all the advances, there are still clerical, patriarchal, and hierarchical imprints. The first statement is rather an admission. I must openly admit that, in certain socio-cultural contexts, it is not at all obvious to ask the question about ‘travelling companions’, as is done in preparation for the World Synod of Bishops, let alone listen to one another as equals and speak boldly to the hierarchical Church.
In the Church, God’s family in Africa, bishops, priests, faithful, religious, and young people should openly acknowledge that they are equal in the Church and that they have different opinions. Indeed, in everyday life, it is the laity and above all women who make the life of the Church progress. However, in some countries, despite evident progress, the Church still appears to be very clerical, patriarchal and hierarchical.

Sr. Anne Béatrice Faye, Senegalese, a religious of the Congregation of the Immaculate Conception of Castres.

Second, I realize that concern for the preservation of ecclesiastical institutions is often at odds with proclaiming the kingdom of God.
The centrality of the episcopal or priestly ministry makes coherent pastoral action possible, provided however that those in leadership positions are willing to work together when it comes to the mission of the Church. Difficulties arise when their way of leading is too focused on their person and their authority. Rather, we need to collaborate and work as a team to create a climate of openness and ‘certain spaces’ for meeting and exchanging ideas in which no one finds themselves in difficulty.My third observation concerns the synodal process itself, which has surprisingly aroused much enthusiasm and mutual openness in many local Churches.

The working document for the continental stage of the World Synod of Bishops states that the method of spiritual dialogue has found wide acceptance because it has allowed many to take a clear look at the reality of the life of the Church and to call its lights and shadows by name.
Already this sincere evaluation immediately produced fruits projected towards the mission. Most of the responses emphasized that this was the first time the Church had asked people for their opinion and that she intended to continue on this path. In this regard, I quote the Bishops’ Conference of the Central African Republic: ‘We note a strong mobilization in the people of God, the joy of coming together, of walking together and of speaking freely. Some Christians, who had felt hurt and had distanced themselves from the Church, returned during
this phase of consultation’.

Listening to quiet voices
It is clear, therefore, that the synodal process in Africa can effectively contribute to greater equality within the Church. This requires the ability to radically involve all groups, a common sense of belonging and a profound acceptance of Jesus’ teaching. It is necessary to adopt an attitude of listening to the subdued voices of women, young people, children, the marginalized and the excluded.
In following the synodal path, the Church, God’s family in Africa, is particularly called to address those people who live in precarious conditions and whose voice is rarely heard because they are too far away. Although they are widely supported by Christian communities, they are rarely listened to, let alone asked for advice. This is easily explained by their condition of extreme poverty.

In my opinion, the debate on the abuse crisis and its systemic causes is also part of the synodal process in Africa.
In this regard, I want to avoid any misunderstanding of the meaning of the word ‘systemic’. This term does not mean, as many think, that the Church intentionally and systematically committed sexual abuse on a large scale. Rather, it refers to the fact that the Church, in general, has failed to adequately respond to the numerous, repeated and well-known cases of abuse and do what is necessary, namely, to put an end to the abuses and prevent further abuses. We can therefore speak of a systemic phenomenon due to persistent passivity, omissions, lack of vigilance, concealments, and the inability to listen to the victims.
Personally, I believe that the ability of the Church to remedy the situations that arise within her should not be questioned. For this reason, the abuse crisis and the voices of victims and survivors are at the heart of the synodal process. This is one of the signs of the times that the Church is currently facing in the light of the Gospel.

Moreover – as the working document for the continental stage of the World Synod of Bishops shows – in most of the synodal processes carried out at local and national levels, clericalism, abuse of power and sexual abuse have been identified as key factors in the perception of the Church and understood, not only by the media but by Catholics themselves.
The faithful also affirm that the Church must be freed from clericalism so that all her members – consecrated and lay – can carry out their mission together. It is clear that it is no longer possible to ignore, deny, underestimate or neglect any type of abuse: sexual, spiritual, of power or of conscience. It is rather a matter of the total disregard for human dignity.Unless the Church provides a credible answer to this problem, Catholics in many countries will increasingly question whether to stay in the Church or leave.
The vast majority of Catholics react sensitively to this crisis, but they also want to preserve the unity of the Catholic Church.

Invitation to Conversion
And so, what must be done? The Synod is a process in which the Church must listen. It should listen better to the hushed voices denouncing the prevailing clericalism, as the Report of the Central African Republic shows: “Some parish priests behave like ‘people who give orders’ and impose their will without listening to anyone. Secular Christians do not feel like members of the people of God. Initiatives that are too ‘clerical’ must be stigmatized. Some pastoral collaborators, both clerical and lay, sometimes prefer to surround themselves with those who share their opinions, keeping their distance from those who hold unfavourable or contrary beliefs.”

photo: 123rf

It should also be recognized that clericalism is a form of spiritual impoverishment, a loss of what consecrated ministry is really about, and that it is a culture that isolates the clergy and harms the laity. This culture separates from the living experience of God, damages fraternal relationships and favours rigidity, legalistic submission to power and the exercise of authority which becomes more power than service.
The invitation to convert to the culture of the Church for the salvation of the world is concretely linked to the possibility of anchoring a new culture with new practices and structures. One church group in the United States put it very well: “Rather than acting like bouncers trying to exclude others from the table, we need to put more effort into making sure people know that everyone here has a place and a home.”
We can therefore hypothesize a reform of the Church that will breathe new life into the existing structures. But it would be better if the Church had the courage to leave useless structures that have no future. All of this must take place in a sincere spiritual decision-making process.

Rwanda. The Power of the Beat.

Ingoma Nshya is the country’s first female percussion troupe. Reconciliation, healing and peace are part of the group journey.
We went to meet them.

About 125 kilometres south of Kigali, and after an endless sequence of hills, is Huye. With nearly 320,000 inhabitants, until 2013 it housed the oldest university in the country. Here you can visit the Ethnographic Museum, where traditional tools from the era of the last Rwandan kings are kept. These vestiges, indispensable in Rwanda, seem to be renewed by observing the movements, songs and acrobatics of the twenty women who almost twenty years ago created the first group that plays the traditional drums of the country.
Odile Gakire Katese, an actress, theatre director, poet and drummer, was the founder of Ingoma Nshya (ingoma can mean ‘new’, ‘kingdom’ or ‘power’, and nshya refers to ‘drum’). In the same year, 2004, her daughter Aurore was born, who proudly welcomes us to a mixed bookshop and ice cream parlour called Sweet Dreams, converted into a rehearsal room after the pandemic.

Every day, they bring the traditional drums outdoors, to a raised space from which you can see the Huye prison – there the Prison Fellowship Rwanda organization began its work of reconciliation between the perpetrators and relatives of the victims of the genocide – to repeat the movements, feel the rhythm and feel how your body seems to merge with the solid structure of the drum. They dance with the tool that has allowed them to obtain an economic resource – they receive a monthly salary for this activity – travel, create and, above all, feel free.
“I just finished high school and I would like to fully immerse myself in Ingoma Nshya because it has always been present in my life. If I have the skills, I want to join them”, says Aurore Katese. She explains the differences between the types of drums women use and insists on the need to find new ways to express themselves because the group has been around for many years.
“When Ingoma Nshya started, only ten years had passed since the genocide, reconciliation was difficult and people could not integrate, it was unthinkable that those who killed and the relatives of the deceased or the injured, the victims, would unite”, says Aurore.

“Playing the drum relaxes us and we believe it brings peace” (Photo: Ingoma Nshya)

Could the drums have been a way to be able to reconcile people? Aurore continues: “Women were forbidden to play the drum and my mother wondered why. Not because women didn’t have the strength to play this instrument, but simply because they were deprived of it”, she continues.
Odile Gakire Katese started by inviting women to practice playing the drums after they finished their household chores while their children were at school. After the genocide, women were more than 70% of the population, so they had to change roles. They began to carry out jobs traditionally associated with men: bricklayers, politicians, soldiers, lawyers… In short, they assumed the responsibility of moving the country forward. This change marked Rwanda’s opening up to the issue of gender, a moment Gakire Katese took advantage of to write a new chapter in the national culture. What began as a necessity to keep ancestral customs alive has also helped heal the wounds of genocide.

Aurora, daughter of Odile Gakire Katese founder of Ingoma Nshya. (Photo: Carla Fibla García-Sala)

However, in all this time, they have not had an even reception in Rwanda where they do not meet the same enthusiasm as the international festivals they have participated in since 2009. Their performances in their home country are limited and they do not have access to public funds for the ‘art’. This is why Marie Moella Uwsenma, 45 years old and a member of the group since 2008, recalls the trip they made to Great Britain. People applauded them so much that they were moved, “everyone stood up and showed us how much they liked it… It was a gift”.“In my case, joining the group in 2008 was not something improvised. My neighbour was playing the drum and I really enjoyed watching and listening to him. At one point, he invited his wife to learn, and since she showed an interest in rhythms, they asked me to join them. That’s how I started”, explains Marguerite Mushimiyimana. At 29 she is one of the youngest of the group, although she has been perfecting her technique for 14 years.“Watching the women play the drum I wondered why not me. I told my husband I wanted to join Ingoma Nshya and he accepted”, says Uwsenma, for whom playing the drum is “a natural thing for me, something I don’t have to force myself to do”. There she feels ‘relaxed and happy’ just like her companions, which is easy to appreciate when they get behind the drums.

“We play our way. We swing the whole body, turn, squat, jump… Our style is dynamic”. (Photo: Ingoma Nshya)

On Saturdays, they go to schools to teach their art to boys and girls. “Many ask their parents to enlist them, and there are also parents who decide that drumming is part of their upbringing”, says Uwsenma, who wanted to join the army as a child.
“With our group, we have overcome social differences and segregation. Here we are all the same, we feel united by the drum”.
“You can’t change the past or make social problems disappear, but playing the drum relaxes us and we believe it brings peace. What we do must please us and those who come to our show. This encourages us, rebuilds us and we feel that it generates something good”, adds Moella Uwsenma listening carefully to Marguerite, who nods: “We play our way. While the men remain static, we swing the whole body, turn, squat, jump… Our style is dynamic”. (Open Photo: Carla Fibla García-Sala)

Carla Fibla García-Sala

 

Ivory Coast. An uncertain future.

A leading country in West Africa, Ivory Coast has weaknesses that could not only block economic development but also lead to turmoil. The consequences of two civil wars fought in the past decades are still felt and the leadership, who is responsible for these wars, has not yet implemented measures that could avoid the troubles of the past.

Since the death of Felix Houphouet-Boigny (considered the founding father of the country) in December 1993 the political scene in Ivory Coast is largely dominated by three men: Alassane Dramane Ouattara, Henri Konan Bédié and Laurent Gbagbo.
Ouattara is the ruling president, Gbagbo is his immediate predecessor and Bédié was the chief of state from 1993 to 1999. Both Ouattara and Konan Bédié competed for the role of the heir of Houphouet-Boigny (who ruled the country for 33 years) while Gbagbo began his political life as an opponent to the first chief of state.
During these years they fought for prominence also creating short-lived alliances. Often two of them allied to beat the third but, after having accomplished their goal, they split and one of them joined the former enemy to fight the old ally. These days there is an apparent peace, but simmering tensions are ready to explode as the 2025 presidential election approaches. There are ideological differences between the three men. On a general level, Ouattara is a Western-educated technocrat who is pro-free trade and pro-market while Gbagbo has a socialist formation and supports anti-colonialist views. But, in reality, the battle of ideas is less relevant than the conflict of personalities.

The war between the three political leaders has had a deep impact on the coexistence between the ethnic groups. The tensions among the ethnicities (that existed also under Houphouet-Boigny) escalated when Konan Bédié introduced the term “Ivoirité” (Ivoirity, or “what it is like being an Ivorian citizen”). To exclude Ouattara (who is a Muslim with ascendants in the north) from the race to become president, Konan Bédié started to distinguish between “real” Ivorians and descendants of immigrants, creating a rift within Ivorian society. This term targeted the ethnic groups originating from the north of Cote d’Ivoire that are predominantly Muslim. Even if they had Ivorian citizenship from their birth, they began to be considered and treated as second-class citizens or even strangers. Also, Gbagbo, during his presidency, embraced Ivoirité and discriminated against those ethnic groups he thought were supporting Ouattara. These ethnicities became the scapegoat in different economic and social issues, like the one concerning land ownership in the southern regions.
The groups that originated in the south tried to exclude those who immigrated from the north from the ownership of land plots in their areas even if the “newcomers” were entitled to claim them. Gbagbo’s ultimate goal was in any case to stop Ouattara from becoming president.

Two civil wars
Due to this turf war, the first ten years of this millennium for Cote d’Ivoire were characterized by turmoil. The feeling of disenfranchisement of northern ethnic groups, especially within the armed forces, brought to what is called “The first Ivorian Civil War”. On 19 September 2002, rebel forces attacked three cities (including Abidjan) before being repelled by regular troops.

In 2002. The first Ivorian civil war.

Rebels took control of most of the north of the country (including major cities such as Bouaké and Korhogo). French forces intervened since France was the colonial power that ruled Cote d’Ivoire before the independence and had (and still has) strong ties with the African country. After several failed attempts, a peace agreement was reached between the two fronts in March 2007 with the mediation of the international community. But by then Cote d’Ivoire was a country split into two, with the internationally recognized government in the south and a north controlled by the rebel forces.
A new conflict (the Second Ivorian Civil War) erupted in 2011. In 2010 presidential elections were held during the mandate of Laurent Gbagbo. Alassane Ouattara was proclaimed the winner by the electoral commission, but Gbagbo (who had run for a new mandate) refused to accept the results.

In 2011. The second Ivorian civil war.

Therefore, for a moment Cote d’Ivoire had two presidents, even if only one (Ouattara) was recognized by the international community. Gbagbo did not step down, as requested by foreign partners, and violence escalated, especially in Abidjan. In this phase Konan Bédié sided with Ouattara. On 28 March 2011, the rebel forces that ruled the north and supported Ouattara started an offensive on the rest of the country and marched southward. The pro-Gbagbo troops tried to resist but, thanks to the support of French and UN forces, the rebels prevailed. On 11 April 2011 Gbagbo was arrested and therefore Ouattara could begin his mandate. He was confirmed by popular vote in 2015 and in 2020.
After his ascent to power, Ouattara reformed the security forces, merging the regular ones with the rebel groups. The warlords that supported him (the “comzones”) during the Second Civil War were incorporated into the new security forces and gradually neutralized.

Guillaume Soro, fell into disgrace due to his contrasts with Ouattara.

They indeed posed a threat to him since they could mobilize their militias against the new president and could try to influence the new government. The political leader of the rebel forces, Guillaume Soro, fell into disgrace due to his contrasts with Ouattara. Soro served as Prime Minister under Gbagbo in a national unity government and as President of the National Assembly from 2012 to 2019. He tried to build a solid political base with the objective of becoming Ouattara’s successor, and in 2019 he announced the decision to run in October 2020 presidential elections. But he never had the possibility to compete for the office.  He was accused and convicted of crimes such as money laundering and plotting an attack on the security of the state. In June 2021, he was sentenced to life. At present, he is living abroad.
At the moment, the chief of state controls firmly the security apparatus (his brother Téné Birahima Ouattara is the Minister of Defence) and a new coup seems unlikely (but not impossible). But there were cases of mutiny within the security forces due to payment and promotion issues, like in January and May 2017. Violent protests erupted at various times. The political and ethnic tensions could have consequences within the ranks of security forces since politicians could try to exploit the discontent of part of the troops to launch calls for revolt. One of the reasons for the fall of Guillaume Soro is that he was suspected by the Ouattara entourage to have supported the 2017 mutinies. (Open Photo: 123rf)
(A.C.)

Mozambique. The Tete Mines Business.

The extraction and export of fossil deposits from the Mozambican province has grown in recent years. The benefits go into the pockets of Indian and Maputo companies. The local population not only does not see the fruits but is exploited and removed from their land.

The bulldozers dig into the earth, lift tons of coal and deposit them on large trucks. On the edge of a leaden crater an engineer recounts his day: “We never stop, now I’m going to sleep for a few hours then the night shift awaits me, from 10pm to 6am”. The 25-year-old man moved from Maputo to the Chirodzi mine to work with the multinational that holds the concession, the Indian Jindal. Until fifteen years ago, where the chasms of the quarries are now sinking, there lived a community of small farmers that the government has relocated elsewhere.
And similar transfers also befell other rural communities in the area to make way for mining companies.

Moatize coal mine. (Image courtesy of Marcelo Coelho| Vale.)

This is the province of Tete, northern Mozambique, a territory that holds reserves of coal estimated at 23 billion tons. The fuel that has returned to the centre of world interests with the energy hunger triggered by the post-pandemic recovery and the Russian gas crisis, which have directed conversion policies towards more sustainable sources. Thus, for the large companies that preside over it, the mining area of Tete has once again become an Eldorado of coal. This is confirmed by what was declared to the local media by the director of infrastructure in Tete, Grácio Cune: in the past year the sector has had a growth of 47%. Business is booming for the groups present today, all Indian, Jindal, Vulcan, and ICVL, which sell the extracted fossil mainly to buyers on the Asian market and to the blast furnaces of China and India, insatiable for coke. Among the compounds of the gigantic Moatize site, a Portuguese operator comments: “Coal is easy to transport and continues to prove to be irreplaceable. Pollution? It’s not a problem, just plant trees”.

Pollution? It’s not a problem…
The man works for Mota Engil Africa, a company that controls the maintenance of the mine under contract. But it is enough to set foot beyond the fence of the plant to understand how his optimism is unjustified. The mining sites have eviscerated the horizon and clouds of dust rise from the craters, a membrane of soot cloaks the houses
and streets around.

Coal Train Nacala – Moatize. CC BY-SA 4.0/ Matthias Hille

The inhabitants speak of diseases attributable to pollution, pneumonia and tumours, which are increasingly widespread. The drama finds its confirmation in the analyses carried out by the NGO Source International around the mining town of Moatize, inhabited by 40 thousand people. Here the density of fine dust in the air turned out to be more than double the daily limits indicated by the WHO, and that of very fine dust is more than quadruple. While local communities suffer the side effects of the mining business, coal travels quickly to the global market. From Moatize, a special railway corridor branches off to reach the ports of Nacala and Beira, on the Indian Ocean, where the hydrocarbon is transported by ship.
During the decline in demand for coal, with the crisis in the sector induced by the first signs of energy conversion, the completion of the 912 km long railway section towards Nacala had slowed down. But then it was completed in 2016 with the eviction of entire villages, amid beatings by government forces and the protests of the reassentados, the people relocated elsewhere. The railway now runs several trains
per day, up to 3 km long.

Patrick Laracy is the founder of Vulcan Minerals Inc.

The owner of it all is now Vulcan, a subsidiary of the Indian Jindal company, a multinational listed at 18 billion dollars, which in April 2022 acquired the Moatize mine and its infrastructure from the Brazilian giant Vale. Cost: 270 million. For the 5,300 workers employed in the quarry, the transfer meant a real leap in the dark, accompanied by spontaneous strikes in the streets of Moatize and in front of the mine gates protected by contractors equipped with shields and batons. “Vulcan’s new management group has already emphasised the downside. There have been layoffs, the budget for subcontracting services has decreased and now many miners are forced to sleep in the quarry, because there is no means of transport to get them to and from home and work. We have brought the issues to the attention of the government, without receiving a response. If this continues, there will be an indefinite strike”, says the provincial secretary of the Consilmo trade union federation, Fernando Raice Jorge who, in the course of endless negotiations, tries on the one hand to build dialogue with the companies and, on the other, to inform workers regarding their rights.

Maputo is negotiating directly
In a context where there is not yet a national contract for miners and agreements are made at the time of hiring, the companies do not communicate anything about their industrial plans, and even the government officials of the province of Tete themselves do not understand what is happening regarding mining concessions because the central government of Maputo deals directly with the companies.
Money and raw materials immediately flow elsewhere and the accumulation of money is in the hands of very few.

Maputo City. The central government deals directly with the companies.

In the area, there is not even a shadow of the economic well-being that the flywheel of the mining activity should have brought, according to what was promised. “Thanks to my work as an employee, I was able to help my brother to study and bring the money home”, testifies a confident young miner on the streets around the mine. But his is a rare, lucky case. The skilled workers all come from outside, from the capital Maputo and even from neighbouring Zambia and Zimbabwe. For those who have not trained in technical schools, the jobs of janitor, guardian, canteen or cleaner remain, with salaries of 190 euros a month, while a basic worker earns 270.
Today the extractive industry absorbs 0.5% of the population, in a context of strong demographic development, where nine out of ten people earn their living from small agricultural activities.

Tete is dilapidated, communities cleared
The flexible representation of how development was a phase of exhilaration that soon evaporated can be seen in Tete, a city on the placid banks of the Zambezi River, which twenty years ago experienced a surge in population as a result of internal immigration from the countryside, increasing by 50%. Its skyscrapers in the centre tell the tale; they were built upon the arrival of the large mining companies to house banks and provide services to expatriate technicians. Today, however, those high-rise buildings are dilapidated, Tete is dilapidated and does not look at all like the capital of a province that produces between 10 and 15% of the national GDP.

Many communities living in the areas around the Moatize coal mine rely on subsistence agriculture to survive.

Meanwhile, once an extraction site is exhausted, the companies cover the crater and dig at a spot a little farther away, one area after another, wiping out entire communities that have been relocated to the new settlements of Cateme, 25 de Setembro, and Mwaladzi, Mboza. Soon two other communities in the district of Moatize and Chiúta will be cleared and moved elsewhere, to villages such as Mboza, a grid of pastel-coloured buildings designed to accommodate 272 families, but still partially uninhabited. Here we meet Bonga, a 60-year-old former farmer and a community leader, who now works at the Moatize mine as a gardener. His native village of Kapanga no longer exists: “Three years ago the government first warned us, then compensated us with a small sum and finally told us to leave. The new settlement is isolated and many families have preferred to disperse elsewhere instead of moving”, he says from his house. Meanwhile, on the street, a group of unemployed young people, without dreams or hopes, spend the day listening to the radio.

“Robbed of everything”
Cateme, on the other hand, is the first of the villages for reassentados to be built. Now two thousand people live there. The buildings rest on concrete platforms without foundations and are unsafe. The water drawn from the well is salty and dirty and causes bladder pain; the place is very far from everything and there is no connection with hospitals. No one likes to talk to outsiders, especially if they are white.

“Everyone here has got rich, except us poor people from the villages”

The fear of being spied on and punished is perceptible. Nobody works in the mines, despite the promises of the big mining companies. Ignazio, the local leader and judge, recounts: “They took us away from our fields, from our dead. Our cemetery has remained near the old village, we have not had the opportunity to transfer our ancestors respecting the funeral rites”. An exasperated man steps up beside him: “Everyone here has got rich, except us poor people from the villages. The big companies have made fun of us, we just have to rebel. We must do as in Cabo Delgado!”. He is referring to the province of Mozambique where for five years the Islamist guerrilla warfare that has caused almost a million refugees has not subsided and where international investments have concentrated around deposits of gas and precious minerals.

Marco Benedettelli

Sweden, South Africa & the Churches.

Finland has just joined NATO.  Norway was a founding member in 1949. Sweden wishes to join but to date is blocked by Turkey.

A few weeks ago, the Russian Ambassador in Stockholm, Ukrainian-born Viktor Tatarinsev, commented “the Swedes will undoubtedly be sent to their deaths in the interests of others” adding that joining NATO would make Swedes “a legitimate target of Russia’s retaliatory measures”.  Putin had similarly warned that Finland stood to suffer “serious military and political consequences”.

You have to admire these three Nordics close neighbours of Russia, Finland with 800 miles of shared border.  Their total population today is a mere 21.5 million.   They are threatened by a Russian Federation of 146 million.  St. Petersburg is about the same distance from the Finnish border as Aberystwyth from London. Defiance like this takes courage.  Not the first instance of courageous Nordic foreign policy.

In the 1980s while working on human rights and international development, I grew to respect Sweden and her fellow Nordics as international actors.  My first encounter was with Birgitta Berggren, the southern Africa desk officer of SIDA (the Swedish International Development Agency) – at the time equivalent to Britain’s now defunct DfID.  She was seeking assistance in funding the ‘home front’ of the African National Congress (ANC).   A British passport meant I did not require a visa involving special checks to enter South Africa and my Church contacts would help.

The 1980s saw an intensification of the Cold War and the final crisis of apartheid.  In 1982 Nelson Mandela was moved off Robben Island to Pollsmoor prison where the South African National Intelligence Agency could sound him out more privately – most likely in the hope of driving a wedge between him and the ANC leadership.  They failed.  In November 1985 while Mandela was in hospital for a prostate operation, ‘Kobie’ Coetzee, the Minister of Justice opened the first government talks.

Under pressure from Pretoria, the Frontline States with their many South African exiles had reached bilateral agreements with the apartheid regime that restricted or closed the bases of the ANC’s military wing.  But in 1983 within South Africa, the UDF (United Democratic Front) had been launched.  Made up of some 400 civic, trades union, student, women’s and church-linked organisations, despite repression, it gained ground becoming the key pillar of the ANC’s ‘home front’.

Under the leadership of Prime Minister Olof Palme until his assassination in February 1986, support for national liberation movements in Southern Africa was a key element of the Swedish Social Democrats’ foreign policy.  By the mid-1980s, in contrast to the US and UK who were doing their best to make sure the ANC failed, Sweden was treating the ANC as a government in waiting.   What mattered for most western governments was that the ANC was ‘Soviet-backed’.   ‘Swedish-backed’ or ‘Nordic backed’ would have been just as accurate a description, especially when referring to non-military support.

Sweden had begun supporting the ANC’s “home-front” in the mid-1970s and in the 1980s sought to increase their funding via the trade unions and the Churches within South Africa.  In the words of SIDA’s Lars-Olof Edström in Lusaka, Zambia in 1980: “ANC is no longer an exile organisation [but] very active inside South Africa.  Support to the internal work must accordingly constitute an essential part of the Swedish assistance”.  The Nordics’ intervention was both timely and strategically important.  Between 1969-1995 SIDA’s regular assistance to the southern African liberation movements, using figures from Tor Sellström’s Sweden & National Liberation in Southern Africa Vol II, adjusted for inflation and converted to sterling, amounted to £100s of millions in current values.
And this does not include money for cultural activities, information, research work and emergencies.  Half of it went to the ANC.

Many in the Churches inside South Africa were ready to help deliver financial assistance to the ANC.  An influential group of radical Christian leaders supporting and consulting the ANC determined the spending priorities.  They were led by Rev. Dr. Beyers Naudé, a prominent Dutch Reformed Church minister who had resigned from his ministry in order to oppose apartheid.  He endured banning (severe restrictions on movement and political activity) from 1977 to 1985.

Naudé, with influence in the Netherlands and internationally, then became secretary-general of the South African Council of Churches (SACC) and a key point of reference for the Swedish legation in Pretoria.  Alongside him were the theologian Father Albert Nolan OP, who when elected master-general of the Dominicans had asked to be allowed to continue his work in South Africa, and Rev. Frank Chikane, who succeeded Naudé as secretary-general of the SACC.
He survived an attempted poisoning ordered by the Minister of Law and Order, Adriaan Vlok.

With the blessing of this Christian group Swedish money financed – non-military – needs of ANC activists as well as supporting organisations like COSAS (Congress of South African Students), the ANC’s youth movement.   A Catholic network led by the Fr. Albert Nolan worked with the internal organisations of the ANC.   The Grail, a lay Catholic women’s association, sheltered activists on the run, handing out Swedish money for travel and other needs.  One need was a de-bugging device sourced in Croydon and delivered to the UDF.

Thabo Mbeki, a future President of South Africa, speaking in a 1995 interview, said that the special role of Sweden “was to say that the people have got the right and the duty to rebel against oppression” and “as part of the recognition of that right…you support the people who are engaged in the struggle”.   “You do not define what they should be”. Or become, he might have added.
Sweden through the Churches and trade unions made a significant contribution to internal grassroots mobilisation.

By the mid-1980s Church relations with the ANC extended from grassroots to the highest level. Thabo Mbeki travelled often to London so I was able to consult him in a variety of venues, mainly pubs.  Meetings between the Southern Africa Catholic Bishops Conference (SACBC) and the ANC began with a discussion between Archbishop Denis Hurley, President of the SACBC and Oliver Tambo, the exiled ANC President, at the Great Western Hotel, Paddington, London – hugs, beer and sandwiches.  This meeting was followed by a more formal one in Harare between the South African bishops in the SACBC and Mbeki.

The Churches also established wider more complex links. Until the mid-1980s the European Economic Community (EEC), the USA and UK resisted pressure to impose sanctions on the apartheid regime.  The EEC initiated, and was ready to fund, a face-saving ‘special programme for the victims of apartheid’ within South Africa.

To this end, they asked two representatives, one Protestant and one Catholic to a consultative meeting in Brussels.  Rev. Beyers Naudé represented the Protestants.  At the time, Father Smangaliso Mkhatshwa, secretary- general of the Southern African Catholic Bishops Conference (SACBC), was in prison and suffering torture. I was surprised to be asked to go instead of him.

The array of EU officials that greeted us was even more surprised to hear from Dr. Naudé of the restrictive conditions which the Churches demanded before they would accept and distribute EEC funding.    No money should go to Inkatha, an ethnic Zulu political movement shaping up for a civil war with the non-racial nationalist ANC.
Germany, USA, and UK greeted Inkatha as an opponent to the ANC despite the risk of serious violence.
Civil war came close during government negotiations between 1990 and 1994, with massacres involving Zulu militia trained and armed by the South African Defense Force.

During the 1994 elections, the Nordics through the Churches continued their efforts to contain violence.  Highly effective election monitoring, notably by international World Council of Churches’ teams, played a significant part in keeping campaigning and voting peaceful.

I accompanied former President of Zambia, Kenneth Kaunda, monitoring in KwaZulu Natal, the main area of Inkatha support.  Tensions were palpable but a ceasefire ordered by the Inkatha leader, Chief Gatsha Buthelezi, held.  The ANC won 62% of the national vote, the Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP) 10%.

In the bipolar world of the 1970s and 1980s, Swedish governments of different persuasions and the Nordics, had the courage to break the Cold War mould by making difficult ethical and political choices.   In their support for the liberation movements, they had in the main the enthusiastic agreement of civil society.

Human rights and development agencies, diplomats, anti-apartheid and women’s groups, trades unions and Churches interacted and worked together.  The result and success of the 1994 elections was a vindication of their judgement.

​The closing lines of Tor Sellström’s magisterial study, Sweden & National Liberation in Southern Africa point to an anomaly worth pondering: “the great Swedish support to the South African struggle against apartheid has not become a fact worth mentioning in the textbooks…  It would have been possible to point out the importance that also a small country like Sweden can have.  But the textbooks are silent”.  (Puzzle with the national flag of Sweden and south Africa on a world map background.123rf)

Ian Linden
Professor at St Mary’s University,
Strawberry Hill, London.

Open wounds.

The wounds caused by the two civil wars are still open since they have not yet been healed.

The politicians, the soldiers and the militias that committed crimes against the population for the most part have not been put on trial. And there has not been a sort of Truth and Reconciliation Commission, like the one created in South Africa after the fall of the Apartheid regime, to investigate the abuses, to offer reparation to the victim and to reconcile the different fronts. For a long time, it seemed that only Gbagbo and his supporters were going to pay the price for violence and abuse during the conflicts, and they spoke of a “justice of the winners”. In terms of public image, Ouattara succeeded in distancing himself from the warlords that helped him to become president.

Laurent Gbagbo at the International Criminal Court (Photo: ICC)

The case of Gbagbo is both exemplary and controversial. In 2011, he was brought before the International Criminal Court (ICC) due to the crimes committed during the civil wars. But on 31 March 2021 after two different rulings of the Court he and Charles Ble Goude, who was Minister for the Youth under Gbagbo and was considered the chief of pro-Gbagbo militias, were acquitted of the charges. On 17 June 2021 Gbagbo came back to Cote d’Ivoire. On 6 August 2022 Ouattara pardoned Gbagbo of a 20-year prison sentence for a robbery during the crisis.The Ivorian government was apparently taken aback by the acquittal before the ICC, such as part of the international community. But why did they grant him a grace that creates problems on a political level? Maybe they decided to guarantee peace by defusing the tensions and gaining the support of the pro-Gbagbo militants. But if the former president and his partner were not sentenced by the ICC, who committed those crimes? And why? Will the victims receive compensation?
It is true that some political leaders (such as Ble Goude) admitted at least in part their responsibilities. But it was something on a small scale, not organic, with no apparent effect on politics and society. What happened during the conflict left bitter memories of discrimination and persecution by the ethnic groups against each other. The coexistence between the different ethnicities is at risk because every group may think that those who surround it could try to eliminate it at any time. Konan Bédié, who invented the ideology of Ivoirité, on some occasions again took positions that were considered racist.

The Elite
At present, Ouattara is 81 years old, Konan Bédié is 88 and Gbabgo is 77. In 2020 almost 60% of the Ivorians were under 25. In 2023 only 2.95% of the population is over 64. That is to say in Cote d’Ivoire there is a small elite of aged leaders that are responsible for a long phase of turmoil and keep on ruling a much younger population.
In more recent years, some younger politicians seemed to emerge, but for different reasons, they never succeeded in reaching the level of power of the three leaders.
As seen before, Guillaume Soro (who is 50) was basically stopped by Ouattara and his supporter during his rise to power. Another ascending leader was Hamed Bakayoko. A loyal Ouattara supporter during the years, he had strong links with the president’s entourage, but also the ability to reach out to competitors and enemies. He served as Minister of Interior and Minister of Defence under Ouattara, before becoming Prime Minister in July 2020 after the death of Ahmadou Gon Coulibaly.

The National Assembly is the lower house of the Parliament of Ivory Coast since November 2016.

According to some sources, Ouattara thought Bakayoko could become his successor, before changing his mind and deciding to run again in 2020. Bakayoko died of cancer at 56 in March 2021. Charles Ble Goude (who is 51) remains a controversial politician that has the ability to mobilize the masses, even after his stint in prison during the trial before ICC. But he cannot run for office due to a criminal conviction.
Therefore, there is no apparent heir to the three leaders. But Konan Bédié and Gbagbo must face internal opposition within their factions. Konan Bédié is the leader of Parti Démocratique de la Cote d’Ivoire – Rassemblement Démocratique Africain (PDCI-RDA), the party founded by Houphouet-Boigny. Within the PDCI-RDA there is growing opposition to his leadership especially from younger members. The opponents ask for a renewal of the party and of its leadership. Until now Konan Bédié succeeded in stifling the internal resistance and remains firmly in control. Some dissidents already left the party, but this issue could recur in future for PDCI-RDA. Jean-Louis Billon, a senior leader of the party, has announced he will run for president in 2025 while Konan Bédié did not yet clarify his intentions.

Pascal Affi N’Guessan is the leaders of the Parti des Peuples Africains – Cote d’Ivoire (PPA-CI). (Photo: Twitter)

Other candidates could emerge creating divisions within PDCI-RDA. Gbagbo must cope with a more complex situation. The party he co-founded, the Front Populaire Ivoirien (FPI), when he was in jail split between his hard-line supporters, who refused to take part to the political process, and the faction headed by the actual leader, Pascal Affi N’Guessan, who decide to participate in elections. After he came back in Cote d’Ivoire Gbagbo was therefore forced to create a new party and on 17 October 2021 the Parti des Peuples Africains – Cote d’Ivoire (PPA-CI) was created. Gbagbo remains one of the major players on the Ivorian political scene, but his former political base is divided, and he has to compete both with Affi N’Guessan and his former wife Simone Gbagbo in front of the same audience. And there is Ble Goude that was his staunch supporter but then the two took different paths. These rifts end up favouring Ouattara, who has not yet nominated an heir. (Open Photos: 123rf)
(A.C.)

 

Samela Sateré Mawé. “Nothing for us without us”.

She is a leading voice among Brazil’s Indigenous youth. Her message is simple: Indigenous people must be involved in decision-making processes relating to the measures that must be taken to deal with environmental issues. The importance of social media.

Samela is part of a lineage of women that has been forged in the fight for the rainforest and Indigenous peoples.
Her grandmother was the founder of the Associação de Mulheres Indígenas Sateré Mawé (Sateré Mawé Indigenous Women’s Association).
The influence that her female relatives and ancestors have had in shaping her into the activist she is today.

Samela said: “Being born into the Sateré Mawé Indigenous Women’s Association, I have always experienced what it is to be part of the struggle – the sense of the collective, the meetings, the demonstrations, the protests, listening to the words spoken by my grandmother and my mother, as well as other women in the Indigenous movement – and all of this has been essential in shaping me as a woman, as an activist, and
as an Amazonian.”

This year, two indigenous leaders have an important role in Lula’s Government. Sonia Guajajara was Appointed First Minister of the Newly Created Ministry of Indigenous Affairs in Brazil and Célia Xakriabá was elected president of the Commission for the Amazon and Indigenous and Traditional Peoples.

Samela remarks: “Indigenous women have increasingly come to play a leading role inside the Indigenous movement. In the past, it was only the men who left their villages and their territory to go and talk about the issues concerning Indigenous peoples, such as health care, education, the demarcation of Indigenous territories and those sorts of things. But when we see Indigenous women raising their voices, we feel more represented as part of the Indigenous movement’s struggle.”

She continued:  We still suffer a lot of violence and abuse inside this space, since most Indigenous peoples are patriarchal societies [too], [but] Indigenous women have strength, the care and the generational knowledge of what it is to be a woman, right? And bringing this to the Indigenous movement, having strong female protagonists, such as Sônia Guajajara and Célia [Xakriabá], who now represent our people in a bigger sphere, which is the sphere of politics. … For me this is really important, it’s really important to have women occupying these spaces. It’s about representativeness, really.”

“Demarcation of screens” was coined by the then federal congresswoman Sônia Guajajara to talk about the importance of Indigenous peoples maintaining a presence on social media in order to inform the debate, speak out and celebrate issues related to Indigenous peoples and the preservation of the biomes that we live in. What does this virtual territory mean to you?

Samela explains: “It was actually in 2020, during the pandemic, when we were unable to hold our Acampamento Terra Livre (an event that sought to mobilize the Indigenous peoples of Brazil around their constitutional rights), which has been held for 17 years. On this occasion, we had to hold the event online. So, Sônia Guajajara came up with the term “let’s demarcate the screens and occupy social media.”

From there, we held the largest Acampamento Terra Livre online that there had ever been. There was a month of events, a month where Indigenous women learned what a live stream was, what a Google Meet was, what Zoom was, what social media was, and the importance of the internet for the Indigenous struggle.”

She continued: “ I also talk about the importance of “demarcating the screens and occupying social media,” because as well as being an important tool in the struggle and resistance to preserve our environment, it is also a way to simplify, deconstruct and decolonize culture and what people think in relation to Indigenous peoples. For me, it’s vital to have an Indigenous presence on social media. I always talk about how our ancestors fought with the tools that they had and how we now have a tool that can be used to reach far and wide — that is, the internet, social media and technology — and that we need to use this to our advantage. So this is what this virtual territory is about. We are digital guerrilla fighters.”

Samela pointed out that content production came a lot from the desire to deconstruct and simplify the news. In conventional media we see a lot of news items that are full of stereotypes and errors when it comes to Indigenous peoples; and also, when people talk about laws, about issues and about legislative bills, it can be hard to make sense
of what they are saying.

“What we really needed – she insists – to do was to democratize the news, make our relatives understand what was being said in the big newspapers, in the mainstream media, on TV news segments and so on. Because often, when there’s a big text [about Indigenous issues], our relatives — even the younger ones — will often not understand it.

The same thing sometimes happens when there’s a news segment on TV, it’s hard to understand. Sometimes terms are used in reference to us Indigenous peoples that are totally incorrect. So, our way of creating educational videos to be posted online is born out of this need to make the news more simple, and more democratic, so that everyone understands what is really happening.

Talking about the future Samela said: “I hope that we can really push the issue of the demarcation of Indigenous territories, that we can push for more policies tailored to our peoples’ needs and push for more Indigenous representatives in the National Congress as well as
in other spaces.”

What kind of ancestor do you want to be for those who are to come? She commented: “When we say that the future is ancestral, we are trying to make people turn inward, turn toward their inner selves and see that we are also the forest, we are also the planet and that we are part of the Earth. And that we are the future and that this is completely connected to our past, our ancestors, because when we understand ourselves as part of a biome, part of an ecosystem and as part of a whole, [we will understand that] we will not degrade. (Samela Sateré Mawé. Photo: Daniel Araújo).

Carolina Conti/Mongabay

World Youth Day. “There’s a Rush in the Air!”

The official anthem of World Youth Day is entitled “There’s a Rush in the Air!”. We talk about it with Father João Paulo Vaz,
author of the texts.

There is an official anthem at every World Youth Day (WYD). It is a song that marks every meeting of young people from all over the world with the Pope. The anthem of the World Youth Day to be held from 1 to 6 August in Lisbon is entitled “There is a rush in the air!” The author of the lyrics is Fr. João Paulo Vaz, a diocesan priest of the diocese of Coimbra, with music by Pedro Ferreira.

For the first time, the anthem was chosen through a competition. In previous editions, an artist or a musical group was always asked to compose the official anthem.

Father João Paulo Vaz does not hide the emotions he feels as his song has been chosen as the official anthem. He says: “I have attended six WYDs and the anthems have always been a milestone in the history and lives of those who have attended. It is almost a memorial to every WYD. The fact that the chosen anthem was the one we performed together with the parish band and that it could become a memorial for millions of young people from all over the world really moved us!”.

The priest continues: “The hymn is an important sign in every edition; music has the power to mark memories: if I hear a song, I remember the moment I heard and sang it. It carries the memory of the heart, the memories and the experiences. In all the involvement and preparation, the anthem becomes a great crescendo culminating in the WYD.”

The author of the WYD anthem also says that every time he hears the anthem of one of the six editions in which he participated, the whole journey comes to mind, the “process and the adventure is one of growth and remains for a lifetime.”

The WYD hymn makes concrete the dream of universal fraternity to which Pope Francis appeals so much. WYD is undoubtedly a meeting of peoples and a communion that can only be experienced here, in this global youth event.

Father João Paulo Vaz underlines the universal and fraternal dimension of the anthem, “once the anthem is accepted as the official anthem of a WYD, it is no longer mine or Pedro’s; it becomes the anthem written and composed by young people from all over the world and it is the young people who sing it and live it. The WYD anthem is the anthem of the Church! A legacy that becomes everyone’s inheritance.”

Proof of this is that it has already been translated into Spanish, French, English, Chinese, Vietnamese, Polish and Thai, not forgetting sign language – this is also an innovation of the organization
of WYD Lisbon 2023!

The musical styles of the various versions of the anthem also abound, from pop-rock to rap to electro. Another expression of this universality and fraternity is the fact that this hymn will now be officially sung not by its authors, but by the WYD Lisbon 2023 choir which is preparing to sing at the central WYD events. This choir is made up of young people from all the dioceses of Portugal and some foreign countries.

Father João Paulo Vaz explains to us how the entire process of composing the text of the hymn was born. “The genesis of these texts, because I took it as a very great challenge, is in the journey travelled in recent years since the last WYD in Panama in 2019. The themes of WYD 2019 with ‘Mary’s yes’ and that of 2023 ‘She got up quickly’
are two Marian themes.

Then the themes of the intermediate WYDs celebrated at the diocesan level, in 2020 and 2021, showed us a direction. The first was ‘Young people, get up and go!’; the second was ‘Young people, I make you witnesses of what you have seen and heard!’. So, in addition to the central theme which was Mary, we had ‘Get up’ and Mary’s ‘Yes’. Making these reflections, I said to myself ‘This is the key to this hymn!’

What message does the hymn ‘There’s a rush in the air’ contain? The author of the WYD hymn explains: “In the four verses of the hymn there are the four themes: Panama, the two intermediate ones and that of WYD 23. So, all this has been left here as a catechesis of the themes of the previous WYDs. In 2019, the theme of WYD was ‘May it be done to me according to your Word!’. The hymn of WYD 23 already invites in the first verse to say ‘Yes’ with Mary. A Yes to serve and do the will of the Father wanting to give, to be willing to say yes to imitate Mary.”

In 2020, on National Youth Day, the theme invited young people to ‘Get up and go’, thus setting out to discover, come, see and bear witness to what each one has seen. It is an invitation to come with others and to “look beyond what you do that does not allow you to smile and love” in order to “Go fearlessly on this mission”.

In 2021, with the theme “Young people, I bear witness to what you have seen and heard”, the hymn of WYD 23 states that it was Mary who was the first to bear witness and to welcome “the great surprise of life without end”. And like her, I am urged “not to be silent, not to be able to stop saying: ‘My Lord, count on me, I will never be silent again’”.

The priest points out: “Once we have experienced God’s unconditional love for each of us, we can no longer stand still – the invitation to be missionaries of God’s love with all whom we meet on our way, but also to go far and proclaim this love to those who don’t know him yet. This was the experience of Mary who set off in haste to announce to her cousin Elizabeth the great news that she had just received from God”.

Father João Paulo Vaz concludes: “Without a doubt, music and art are one of the most efficient and effective means and languages to bring the Good News to everyone today, but above all to young people. It is one of the new languages of evangelization. May we all learn to “do the will of the Father” by setting out quickly, full of happiness and enthusiasm”. (Photo: Sebastião Roxo)

Filipe Resende

Mozambique. Living the missionary spirit.

He received the appointment as auxiliary bishop with “fear and trembling”. But with a great desire to serve the church. We spoke about it with the Combonian Msgr. António Manuel Bogaio Constantino was recently consecrated as auxiliary bishop of the Archdiocese of Beira.

The archdiocese includes the entire province of Sofala in the central part of Mozambique. The archiepiscopal see is the city of Beira, the second most important city in the country, where the cathedral of Our Lady of the Rosary is located. The territory is divided into 46 parishes.The new auxiliary bishop, originally from Tete, was ordained a priest on 13 June 2001 in Beira and has so far been provincial superior of the Comboni Missionaries of the Heart of Jesus (since 2016) and president of the Conference of Religious in Mozambique (since 2018).After completing his postulancy with the Comboni Missionaries in Nampula and attending the seminary in Matola, he carried out his novitiate in Uganda. On 10 May 1997, he made his first vows in Kampala and subsequently obtained a baccalaureate in theology at the Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome. After his ordination (from 2001 to 2007) he graduated in journalism in Madrid, Spain.

Msgr. António Manuel Bogaio Constantino was consecrated as auxiliary bishop of the Archdiocese of Beira, on 19 February.

Having returned to Mozambique, he was appointed parish priest of Anchilo, in the archdiocese of Nampula, and collaborator at the Catechetical Centre of Anchilo (2008-2011), and subsequently parish priest of São João XXIII in Chitima and of Santa Maria in Mucumbura, in the diocese of Tete (2011- 2016).
Pope Francis appointed him Auxiliary Bishop of the Archdiocese of Beira last December. The episcopal consecration took place on 19 February with a solemn celebration in the Multipurpose Pavilion of the Ferroviário in Beira. In his first speech as bishop, Msgr. Bogaio Constantino explained that he received the noble, thorny and demanding mission of pastor with “fear and trembling”, moved by the desire to “Serve, serve and serve the Church”.

What are the major challenges you will encounter in Beira in the exercise of your ministry?
Although originally from Beira, I lived far from my city for 30 years, returning only occasionally. During this time, both the Church and Mozambique have experienced a great transformation. I have therefore not given myself any kind of agenda or planning, let alone any special goal. The local Church has grown and matured a lot. I feel that I simply have to enter it with a sense of openness, a desire to learn and above all with a missionary spirit in the service of the people of God.

The greatest challenge is to help believers, and young people in particular, to consolidate their faith in a time when it is put to the test by modernity and by the attraction towards the many religious formations that have arisen over the years. I believe, however, that only after some time from my entry will I be able to better define and face today’s challenges.
Moreover, the archdiocese has already given itself a clear pastoral plan: I undertake to study it so as to give my contribution to its implementation. And this together with the many travel companions.

How do you view your future mission in your ministry as a bishop?
Evangelization and the first proclamation of the Gospel is the specific vocation of the Comboni Missionaries. My ministry in Beira will therefore have at its centre the announcement and the importance of the missionary dimension and therefore of the commitment of every Christian to be a promoter, speaker and witness of the Gospel, also promoting the ability to work united and in communion. With Archbishop Claudio Dalla Zuanna I will follow the pastoral path he has already outlined in the pastoral plan of the diocese. In fact, the Beira region too is feeling the effects of the climate of general instability and I think we are called to stimulate not only the Christian communities but the whole of society to recover the moral values of non-violence and commitment to peace.

Msgr. António Manuel Bogaio Constantino (first on the right) visiting displaced people in Cabo Delgado

What does it mean for you to be a Comboni missionary bishop?
Enormous work has been done by the Comboni Missionaries since their arrival in Mozambique (1946) and their generosity is truly inimitable. Today the local Churches, have developed a lot and on the ministerial level they have very committed and valid native priests, religious and lay people. Missionary institutes therefore pass from the role of protagonists to offer support and encouragement alongside local pastoral workers.  The work of the Comboni Missionaries has contributed in an important way to the growth of the Christian communities in Mozambique, and so fulfils the dream of our founder, St. Daniel Comboni, of “regenerating Africa through the Africans”.

What specific contribution can you make to the local Church?
As I have already mentioned, my greatest satisfaction is to recognize the level of maturity reached by the Church. The pastoral fruits of so many years of work are confirmed by the many vocations and the numerous lay ministries exercised in the Christian communities. In fact, I must say that in the difficult years of the socialist government that took over after independence, the great challenges posed to the Church contributed to an enormous flowering of ecclesial activities and above all to the flowering of the charisms of the laity.

Msgr.Bogaio with Archbishop of Beira Claudio Dalla Zuanna.

In many parishes, they ended up replacing foreign priests and religious in every area, who in many cases had had to leave the parishes and the country. I think that today we must in some ways recover that pastoral dynamic that has been somewhat lost, such as small Christian communities, where the laity truly put to good use the gifts that the Spirit grants them for the benefit of the whole community. And to live in a missionary spirit, that is, constantly going out of oneself, announcing and bearing witness to one’s faith with concrete life.

Pope Francis speaks of an “outgoing Church” and of active, synodal participation, capable of involving all the faithful.
The process of preparation for the synod which will be celebrated next autumn is continuing more or less intensely in all the dioceses. The themes suggested by Pope Francis are truly stimulating: communion, participation and mission. In them, the trajectory to be followed for the great celebration on a universal level is outlined. The second phase, i.e., on a continental level, has begun in Beira after the results of the consultation of all the ecclesial realities in the first diocesan phase have been sent to Rome. I will do everything to join immediately in the synodal journey and offer my contribution so that it truly becomes a moment of ecclesial renewal and the reawakening of faith in all Christians. I firmly believe that the Lord wants to use me to help the Church in Beira to experience more and more the beauty of ecclesial communion. (C.G)

 

 

Peru. The Asheninka Cultural Identity and Spirituality.

The Asheninka live in the departments of Pasco and Ucayali, which are part of the central jungle of Peru. They are estimated to be around 15 thousand people. The term Asheninka has to do with blood family and community family and means ‘Our kinfolks’.

The social environment of the Asheninka is based on family, which is considered the nucleus of the community. Marriage between a man and a woman implies reciprocity and mutuality. Each of them has their role; the women of the community raise children, and therefore they play a special role in the family, while the men are those that create and strengthen social relationships in the community. Singlehood status is seen as a sad experience, single men or widowers are considered to be unhappy, because they have to live with their relatives, they have their meals separately, in another house, and they are not supposed to offer their friends even a ‘masato’. For this reason, a bachelor loses prestige and has no influence within the Asheninka community.
The Asheninka make a clear distinction between family house and social house. The first is associated with women, while the second with men. The social house is the place where the sherampares (men) meet to share their experiences, to talk about hunting and other topics.  For their part, the tsinanis (women) gather in the family house, where they take care of their children and cook.

The Ashaninka community is guided by a chief, the jiwari or jewawentseroni; he is generally an elder. Decisions are taken
during community assemblies.
What sustains the coexistence of the Ashaninka community are its ancestral traditions, such as the Mink’a and the faena (communal work for purposes of social utility), its principles and values, such as harmony, parity, freedom along with dialogue, sharing, respect and honesty.
The Asháninka language is spoken in the central eastern territory of Peru, in the departments of Cusco, Junín, Pasco, Huánuco and Ucayali. Such a wide distribution certainly offers multiple dialectal varieties. However, speakers of these different tongues can often understand each other. The Asháninka traditional dress for both, men and women, commonly known as kushma, is a robe made from cotton that is collected, spun, dyed and woven by women on looms. Dyed stripes always figure in the design, vertical for men’s garments and horizontal for women’s. The women’s kushma is adorned with snail shells and small bones. Ashaninka mothers use the aparina to carry their baby. The chief of a community wears a badge, representing a crown with snake figures woven with black thread or another colour and adorned with large macaw feathers which are embedded in the crown. He also wears a tuft of small feathers hanging on his shoulders.
The feathers, which have particular meanings to this ethnic group can be of curassows, herons or some other bird. The Ashaninka also make up their faces by drawing figures with achiote paste. Each figure has its meaning. Others have blue-coloured tattoos on their cheekbones. All these social traditions, typical clothes and make up, create the cultural identity of the Ashaninka.

The Ashaninka celebrate life with festivals such as the masato festival, which takes place at the time of full moon, in the summer months. It is a moment to share typical food and drinks. Masato and their typical food are also elements that are part of the Ashaninka cultural identity. This ethnic group also like to celebrate the end of a mink’a, which can be the construction of a house or another activity.
On these occasions all participants in the mink’a drink masato, eat traditional dishes, share stories and experiences, sing their traditional songs and dance to the rhythm of the drums, keeping alive, by doing so, their ancestral customs.
The Asheninka worldview is tripartite. This ethnic group believe that there are three existential spaces: Jenoki-sky (God, sun, moon and stars), Kepatsi-earth (man, nature, animals, rivers and other living beings) and Jaavike-underworld. The universe to the Asheninkas is characterised by the harmony between men and the spiritual beings, and between men and nature.

The Asheninka spirituality is rooted in the ancestral wisdom they have received from their ancestors. Creation, to this group, is the expression of the divine that reveals itself in many different ways: for instance, through animals that are considered sacred or somehow associated with the divine such as the jaguar, the manitzi, and the puma chánari. There are also other sacred animals, which indigenous people are not supposed to kill or eat, such as the caracara or atatawo bird, since they are believed to be shamans that transformed themselves into animal forms, therefore eating them would be an act of cannibalism. The anaconda is called yacumama (water mother) by indigenous people in South America. Besides sacred animals there are also places and plants that are sacred to the indigenous peoples: the salt hill, some sites in the Qollpa village, waterfalls, leafy trees (shihuahuaku, lopuna and others), medicinal plants (piri piri, matico, coca and others).
Masato is considered both a sacred and nutritional drink, and is used in social and ceremonial gatherings.
Drinking masato during festivals or family celebrations strengthens family and community relationships. Finally, the Ashaninka’s ancestral wisdom is present in their mythological stories, as oral narrations, which have been passed down through generations.

Jhonny Mancilla Pérez

Photo Gallery – Comboni Youth Movement at World Youth Day

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