Representatives from 175 countries will gather in Geneva, Switzerland, in August for the final round of negotiations on a legally binding UN treaty to end plastic pollution. Non-governmental organisations, academics and industry lobbyists will also be in the room. They will all be hoping to influence what could be the world’s first truly global agreement on plastics.
The summit, known as “INC-5.2”, follows a failed attempt to reach agreement in Busan, South Korea, late last year. That meeting ended without resolving important issues, despite hopes that it would conclude the treaty process. Now, it’s crunch time in Geneva.
Either countries bridge their political divides, or risk the whole process falling apart.
I’ve been researching the effects of plastic for more than a decade and have been involved in the UN treaty process since 2022. I’ve attended several of the negotiations and will be in Geneva next month. The science is clear: we need ambitious action which tackles every stage of the plastics lifecycle, from production through to disposal. But the question is, will countries deliver?
Get your news from actual experts, straight to your inbox.Sign up to our daily newsletter to receive all The Conversation UK’s latest coverage of news and research, from politics and business to the arts and sciences.
In 2022, the UN Environment Assembly agreed to develop a legally binding treaty to end plastic pollution. Since then, progress has been slow. Negotiations have repeatedly stalled over issues such as whether the treaty should limit plastic production or regulate chemicals, how to define terms, and how to fund implementation.
Industry lobbying has also played a powerful role throughout. At the last round of talks, lobbyists for the petrochemical and plastics industries made up the single largest delegation. They outnumbered representatives from the EU, all of Latin America, the Pacific islands, independent scientists and Indigenous communities. This imbalance threatens to weaken the science-based action that is urgently needed.
Although countries failed to reach agreement in Busan, a foundation was laid. They agreed to continue negotiations using the “chair’s text”, which is a draft treaty with multiple options still on the table. That document forms the starting point in Geneva. But it remains uncertain whether enough common ground can be found to finalise the text.
What’s at stake?
This treaty is a once-in-a-generation chance to tackle one of the world’s most urgent environmental crises. More than 450 million tonnes of plastic are produced every year. That figure is expected to double by 2045 if current trends continue.
Only around 9% of plastic is ever recycled. The rest is landfilled, incinerated or ends up polluting the environment.
An estimated 139 million tonnes of plastics pollute marine and fresh water. But that could be significantly higher when considering leakages of plastics to land, and from microplastics, which are plastics smaller than 5mm in diameter.
Plastic is found in the deepest oceans, the remotest mountains and inside the human body. While scientists are only beginning to understand the long-term implications for human health, biodiversity and climate, studies show harmful effects of plastics and their chemicals on animals and ecosystems.
Plastic pollution doesn’t respect national borders. It moves through rivers, oceans and air, and gets carried across continents. Global supply chains and waste exports have made this a problem no country can solve alone. That’s why a global treaty is essential.
Crossroads
Despite this growing urgency, a disparity in positions has hindered progress and continues to divide delegations.
Some, such as members of the High Ambition Coalition, a group of countries committed to progressive climate action, want strong rules to cap plastic production, phase out toxic chemicals and hold polluters accountable. Others, often with prominent petrochemical industries, argue for a weaker, voluntary approach focused mainly on recycling and waste management.
If these divisions aren’t resolved, there’s a real risk the treaty will end up being too watered down to make a difference. A patchy, fragmented agreement would fail to curb rising plastic production and could undermine the integrity of global action.
Between December’s meeting in Busan and next month’s talks, countries have been holding smaller meetings to try to find compromise. That momentum must now be carried into the final negotiations.
Important articles in the draft treaty, including those on chemicals and products, plastic production and finance, remain contested. Whether those provisions are strengthened or diluted will shape the treaty’s effects for decades to come.
Flexibility will be needed. But leadership is also crucial. Countries that support an ambitious outcome must stand firm and bring others with them.
As we approach what may be the final negotiating round, we’re at a critical crossroads. The world has the chance to take meaningful action on plastic pollution. Let’s not waste it.
Don’t have time to read about climate change as much as you’d like?
Winnie Courtene-Jones is an unpaid member and working-group lead of the Scientists’ Coalition for an Effective Treaty; an International network of independent scientific and technical experts contributing robust scientific evidence to the Treaty process.
If something online promises to cure everything, it’s probably too good to be true. One of the most dangerous examples? Chlorine dioxide is often marketed under names like “Miracle Mineral Solution (MMS)” or “aerobic oxygen”, buzzwords that hint at health and vitality.
But in reality, these products can make you violently ill within hours – and in some cases, they can be fatal.
Despite what the name suggests, MMS is not just bleach. Bleach contains sodium hypochlorite, whereas MMS contains sodium chlorite – a different but equally toxic chemical.
When ingested, sodium chlorite can cause methemoglobinemia, a condition where red blood cells lose their ability to carry oxygen. It can also trigger haemolysis (the rupture of red blood cells), followed by kidney failureand death.
Get your news from actual experts, straight to your inbox.Sign up to our daily newsletter to receive all The Conversation UK’s latest coverage of news and research, from politics and business to the arts and sciences.
When sodium chlorite mixes with acid (such as stomach acid), it converts into chlorine dioxide, a bleaching agent. This compound has strong antimicrobial properties: it can kill bacteria, fungi and even viruses like SARS-CoV-2. For that reason, it’s commonly used in sanitising dental equipment and hospital tools like endoscopes. Its effectiveness at killing over 400 bacterial species makes it useful in cleaning – but not in humans.
While the mouth and oesophagus are lined with multiple cell layers, offering some protection, the stomach and intestines are far more vulnerable. These organs have a single-cell lining to absorb nutrients efficiently – but this also means they’re highly sensitive to damage.
Using MMS as an enema is equally dangerous. Chlorine dioxide can trigger an overproduction of reactive oxygen species – unstable molecules that damage cells and contribute to chronic gut conditions. This cellular stress may explain both the immediate symptoms and the long-term injuries seen in reported cases.
It doesn’t make a good mouthwash, either
Some sellers claim MMS can be used safely in the mouth because it’s found in dental cleaners. But clinical trials show it’s no more effective than other mouthwashes, and its oxidising power doesn’t distinguish between harmful microbes and healthy cells.
Chlorine dioxide doesn’t just attack the gut. It also affects the cardiovascular system. Documented risks include low blood pressure, fainting, and cardiac damage – including stroke and shock.
Chlorine dioxide is also a respiratory irritant. Inhalation can inflame the nose, throat and lungs, and in severe cases, cause respiratory distress – particularly with repeated exposure in workplaces.
Studies of factory workers show that even low doses can lead to nasal inflammation, coughing and breathing difficulties. And some patients who drank chlorine dioxide to “treat” COVID-19 ended up with severe chemical lung injuries.
It doesn’t stop there. Some people who consume chlorine dioxide also develop cerebral salt wasting syndrome, a condition where the kidneys lose too much sodium, leading to excessive urination, dehydration and dangerously low blood volume.
Skin contact isn’t safe either. Chlorine dioxide can irritate the skin, and lab studies show it can kill skin cells at high concentrations. People who’ve used it to treat fungal infections have ended up with chemical dermatitis instead.
Chlorine dioxide can be useful for disinfecting hospital tools, dental equipment and water supplies. But that doesn’t mean it belongs in your body. Many of its supposed “benefits” come from lab studies or animal research – not from safe, approved human trials.
There’s no evidence that drinking it cures any disease. There’s overwhelming evidence that it can harm or kill you.
So, if you’re tempted by a product that promises miracles with science-y language and zero regulation, take a step back. The risks are very real – and very dangerous.
Adam Taylor does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
England’s privatised water industry may one day be considered a textbook case study of failed corporate responsibility, regulation and governance. The Cunliffe review, the recent report into England’s privatised water industry, concluded that the financial regulator, OfWat, needs to be disbanded and a new water regulator will be introduced.
For that to work effectively, better pollution monitoring and more clearly defined pollution incident criteria are essential. While politicians and water companies have claimed to be reducing pollution incidences, they might not strictly be tackling sources of pollution, so communications must be carefully scrutinised for disinformation.
The UK’s environment minister Steve Reed MP has described the water industry as “broken”. The public have rising water bills. Water companies owe over £60 billion in debts and have left the country with uncertain water security in the face of climate change.
The Environment Agency (EA) in England recently announced that serious pollution incidents in 2024 rose by 60% to 75 from 47 in the previous year. The EA classifies pollution incidents using a four-point scale called the common incident classification scheme. Trained EA officers consider the evidence reported via their incident hotline to assess its credibility and severity.
Get your news from actual experts, straight to your inbox.Sign up to our daily newsletter to receive all The Conversation UK’s latest coverage of news and research, from politics and business to the arts and sciences.
Category 1 is for major incidents, 2 for significant, 3 for minor incidents and 4 for no impact. Category 1 and 2 typically involve visible signs of dead fish floating. For salmon, if more than 10 adult or 100 young fish are dead, this is category 1. With fewer than ten adult and 100 young fish dead, it’s category 2.
No dead fish, no serious problem? The EA can also record damage on protected habitats as “pollution incidents” but these are harder to substantiate without investigative research that takes time and money.
Last year, more than 450,000 sewage discharges were recorded by event duration monitors. These are devices fitted to the end of overflow pipes that indicate when and for how long they have been discharging.
These discharges represent 3.6 million hours of untreated sewage going into our rivers and coasts. These contain chemical contaminants including pharmaceuticals, detergents and human pathogens. Only 75 incidents were recorded as serious or significant in 2024. Another 2,726 were classed as minor.
So lots of sewage discharges are not being classified as pollution incidents, despite containing pollutants. The EA advises its investigating officers to “record substantiated incidents that result in no environmental impact, or where the impact cannot be confirmed, as a category 4”.
The EA has been criticised for turning up late to 74% of category 1 and 2 pollution incidents and for being pressured to ignore low-level pollution – all claims that they have denied. However, they admit they are constrained by finances. Any new regulator must be adequately resourced and independent.
Pollution isn’t always classified as an official pollution incident. YueStock/Shutterstock
In their recent report into pollution incidences, the EA states that they respond to all category 1 and 2 (serious and significant) water industry incidents and will be increasing their attendance at category 3 (minor) incidents. They highlight that more inspections will identify more issues. This shows some acceptance that the more incidents they attend, the more would be substantiated or recorded appropriately.
Most sewage discharges would not have been reported to, or recorded by, the EA as pollution incidents because they were permitted discharges from combined stormwater overflows. Water companies are allowed to discharge untreated wastewater under exceptional rainfall or snowfall conditions to prevent sewage backing up through the pipes.
Extra water flow in rivers from rainfall is meant to dilute chemical contaminants in wastewater. However, some discharges can last days or weeks. The EA is currently investigating whether water companies have been breaching their permits and discharging untreated wastewater when there is low or even no rainfall.
What counts as pollution?
The UN classifies pollution as “presence of substances and energy (for example, light and heat) in environmental media (air, water, land) whose nature, location, or quantity produces undesirable environmental effects”. This definition differs markedly from the EA’s working definition of pollution incidents.
Many sewage discharges containing low concentrations of pollutants won’t kill fish but might still be harmful to fish larvae or small insects, for example.
However, the broad picture from EA data is that invertebrate communities at least are in a better state than they were three decades ago before wastewater treatment plants were upgraded following the EU’s Urban Wastewater Directive.
Some pollutants bioaccumulate through the food chain, so they become concentrated in top predators such as orcas. Some chemicals mimic reproductive hormones even in low concentrations and can feminise fish, for example. High levels of nutrients from agriculture and sewage in rivers can cause fungal diseases in seagrass meadows.
Other families of chemicals build up in wildlife and people, such as persistent “forever chemicals”, much of which comes from wastewater discharges. Continued discharges of antibiotics into waterways might not be classified as pollution incidents but still pose a substantial risk to human and ecosystem health through bacteria developing antibiotic resistance.
The government has just committed to cut sewage pollution by 50% by December 2029 based on 2024 data. But it’s not yet clear whether these involve cutting the frequency of discharges, the duration or both.
This data could also be manipulated so that a large number of small discharges can be consolidated into one official discharge event. Currently, the volume of discharges from stormwater overflows isn’t known. Without this vital data we can’t ascertain the risk posed by their contaminants.
Don’t have time to read about climate change as much as you’d like?
Statistics professor Johan Ferreira was feeling overwhelmed by the amount of “screen time” involved in online learning in 2021. He imagined students must be feeling the same way, and wondered what he could do to inspire them and make his subject matter more appealing.
One of the topics in statistics is time series analysis: statistical methods to understand trend behaviour in data which is measured over time. There are lots of examples in daily life, from rainfall records to changes in commodity prices, import or exports, or temperature.
Ferreira asked his students to write a short, fictional “bedtime” story using “characters” from time series analysis. The results were collected into a book that is freely available. He tells us more about it.
Why use storytelling to learn about statistics?
I’m fortunate to be something of a creative myself, being a professional oboe player with the Johannesburg Philharmonic Orchestra. It’s a valuable outlet for self-expression. I reflected on what other activity could inspire creativity without compromising the essence of statistical thinking that was required in this particular course I was teaching.
I invited my third-year science and commerce students at the University of Pretoria to take part in a voluntary storytelling exercise, using key concepts in time series analysis as characters. Students got some guidelines but were free to be creative. My colleague and co-editor, Dr Seite Makgai, and I then read, commented on and edited the stories and put them together into an anthology.
Students gave their consent that their stories could be used for research purposes and might be published. Out of a class of over 200 students, over 30 contributions were received; 23 students permitted their work to be included in this volume.
We curated submissions into two sections (Part I: Fables and Fairy Tales and Part II: Fantasy and Sci-Fi) based on the general style and gist of the work.
The project aimed to develop a new teaching resource, inspire students to take ownership of their learning in a creative way, and support them through informal, project-based peer learning.
This collection is written by students, for students. They used personal and cultural contexts relevant to their background and environment to create content that has a solid background in their direct academic interests. And the stories are available without a paywall!
What are some of the characters and stories?
Student Lebogang Malebati wrote Stationaryville and the Two Brothers, a tale about AR(1) and AR(2). In statistics, AR refers to processes in which numerical values are based on past values. The brothers “were both born with special powers, powers that could make them stationary…” and could trick an evil wizard.
David Dodkins wrote Zt and the Shadow-spawn. In this story, Zt (common notation in time series analysis) has a magic amulet that reveals his character growth through a sequence of models and shows the hero’s victory in the face of adversity. He is a function of those that came before him (through an AR process).
Then there’s Nelis Daniels’ story about a shepherd plagued by a wolf called Arma (autoregressive moving average) which kept making sheep disappear.
And Dikelede Rose Motseleng’s modern fable about the love-hate relationship between AR(1) (“more of a linear guy” with a bad habit of predicting the future based on the past) and MA(1), “the type of girl who would always provide you with stationarity (stability).”
What was the impact of the project?
It was a deeply enriching experience for us to see how students see statistics in a context beyond that of the classroom, especially in cases where students reformulated their stories within their own cultural identities or niche interests.
Three particular main impacts stand out for us:
students have a new additional reference and learning resource for the course content
new students can refer to the experiences and contextualisation of this content of former students, leading to informal peer learning
students engage in a cognitive skill (higher-order and creative thinking) that is not frequently considered and included in this field and at this level.
In 2024, shortly after the book was published, we asked students in the time series analysis course of that year to read any one of four stories (related to concepts that were already covered in the course material at that point in time). We asked them to complete a short and informal survey to gauge their experience and insights regarding the potential of this book as a learning resource for them.
The 53 responses we got indicated that most students saw the book as a useful contribution to their learning experience in time series analysis.
One positive comment from a student was:
I will always remember that the Random Walk is indeed not stationary but White Noise is. I already knew it, but now I won’t forget it.
Will you build on this in future?
It is definitely valuable to consider similar projects in other branches of statistics, but also, in other disciplines entirely, to develop content by students, for students.
At this stage, we’re having the stories and book translated into languages beyond English. In large classes that are essential to data science (such as statistics and mathematics), many different home languages may be spoken. Students often have to learn in their second, third, or even fourth language. So, this project is proving valuable in making advanced statistical concepts tactile and “at home” via translations.
Our publisher recently let us know that the Setswana translation is complete, with the Sepedi and Afrikaans translations following soon. To our knowledge, it’ll be the first such project not only in the discipline of statistics, but in four of the official languages in South Africa.
Johan Ferreira receives funding from the Centre of Excellence in Mathematical and Statistical Sciences, based at the University of the Witwatersrand, towards this Scholarship of Learning and Teaching project.
Protecting livestock in areas where large carnivores (like lions) live is increasingly important as human land use expands, wildlife habitat shrinks, and climatic changes reshape the ways in which humans and wildlife interact. Protecting the carnivores from livestock owners is important too. Intact carnivore populations support more resilient food webs and the ecosystem services they provide.
It’s not easy for people, livestock, and carnivores to live together without conflict, though. One of the best ways to reduce conflict is to protect livestock like cattle and sheep from being attacked by predators.
There are various methods to do this, like guarding livestock or erecting fences. That’s all very well for the livestock inside the fences, but do predators simply turn to the nearest unprotected livestock for their meal instead? Are the neighbours’ cattle, sheep, and goats at greater risk? This question hasn’t been explored much by researchers.
We’re a group of conservation practitioners and scientists who have studied the interactions of carnivores, livestock, and people in Tanzania and elsewhere for decades to try and find solutions to conflict problems.
Our study area is next to a national park which protects important populations of lion, leopard, hyena, African wild dog, and cheetah. The people who live here have traditionally kept their livestock overnight in enclosures made of acacia-thorn branches. More recently, some of them have built pens, or corrals, from tall chain link fencing. We knew from years working with communities and from previous research that these fortified corrals were effective at keeping livestock safe from predators.
Our next step was to find out whether this made other nearby livestock less safe.
The results were intriguing. We found that the new enclosures made predation less likely in the nearby traditional enclosures too.
This type of beneficial spillover effect had yet to be documented in other systems where interventions aim to protect livestock from large carnivores.
Our results show that in conservation, it’s important to look closely at complex local dynamics. The findings may help explain why there’s so much uncertainty about the effectiveness of various human–wildlife conflict mitigation strategies.
Beneficial spillover effects
People who keep livestock in east Africa have long had strategies to keep their animals safe from large carnivores. Sometimes acacia-thorn night enclosures (known locally as bomas), intensive herding practices, and guarding dogs work well.
Other times, and especially in communities within and adjacent to large, protected carnivore populations, traditional strategies fall short.
This is the case in Tanzania’s Ruaha-Rungwa Landscape. In our study area adjacent to Ruaha National Park, any pastoralist or agropastoralist (herding and crop farming) household has about a 30% chance of losing one or more animals to predation each year. This is a serious economic loss on top of important cultural and emotional costs.
Lion Landscapes, an organisation that some of us have been running for over a decade, works to support human-carnivore coexistence. Adjacent to Ruaha, we have been partnering with households to build 1.8-metre chain-link corrals. We subsidise them. Households contribute 25% of the cost and some of the labour for construction.
We analysed about 25,000 monthly reports of livestock predation in fenced and traditional enclosures, using statistical models. There were 846 predation events over nearly four years. Unexpectedly, while we did detect spillover effects, these appeared to be beneficial. Rather than displacing conflicts, fortified enclosures actually conferred protective effects on their traditional-enclosure neighbours.
For example, households within 50 metres (the minimum observed distance) of a fortified enclosure were half as likely to experience predation compared with distant households 2 kilometres away. And these beneficial effects increased with the number of fortified enclosures in a neighbourhood. Finally, the effects appeared to be durable over time.
The fortified enclosures were extremely effective. We showed that households could break even after paying for the fence in just a few years through avoided livestock losses. And we know that when domestic animals aren’t being killed, their owners are more tolerant of predators. We didn’t record carnivore killings in this study but it has happened fairly frequently in the area in the past.
In a few of the world’s human-wildlife conflict systems, where data exist to assess spillover effects, there is evidence that detrimental spillovers do occur. For instance, beehive deterrents may redirect elephants to nearby crop fields, or lethal removal of individual wolves may redirect the surviving pack to prey on adjacent ranches. Nevertheless, these are very under-studied interactions.
Livestock management and carnivore coexistence
In systems where humans, livestock, and wildlife overlap and sometimes come into conflict, management strategies too often focus on wildlife. Another option is to reduce whatever attracts wildlife. In the case of large carnivores, this means managing livestock.
Our results support this approach by demonstrating that management and protection of livestock is fundamental for reducing conflict, and can benefit not only livestock owners but landscape-level coexistence.
Conservationists and policy-makers need to encourage these practices that benefit people, carnivores, and livestock in shared landscapes.
Amy Dickman works for Lion Landscapes as the Joint CEO
Jonathan Salerno, Kevin Crooks, Rekha Warrier, and Stewart Breck do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Ghana stands out in west Africa as a nation that has not experienced terrorist attacks, even though it’s geographically close to countries that have. In Burkina Faso, Mali and Nigeria, extremist groups such as Boko Haram and Islamic State in West Africa (ISWAP) have wreaked havoc.
This resilience is not accidental. It is the result of deliberate counter-terrorism strategies employed by Ghana’s security institutions.
Ghana’s counter-terrorism framework was set out in 2020. It has four pillars: prevent, pre-empt, protect, and respond. The idea is to coordinate multiple agencies, including the Ghana Police Service, Ghana Immigration Service, Ghana Armed Forces and the National Intelligence Bureau.
These pillars guide strategies to address both immediate threats and underlying vulnerabilities. Poverty, religious radicalism and porous borders are common drivers of terrorism in west Africa.
I am an international security and global governance researcher. My co-author is a government and international studies scholar.
We wanted to identify what works as a potential model for other countries.
Using a qualitative methodology, we interviewed stakeholders — including police officers, members of the armed forces, Muslim community leaders, and immigration officials. We also analysed the national framework for preventing and countering violent extremism and terrorism.
Our findings showed that Ghana’s success is traceable to an approach that integrates community engagement with advanced border technology, inter-agency training, media collaboration and intelligence operations. And it addresses both immediate and underlying threats.
We argue that Ghana’s ability to balance prevention with security offers solutions for stability in a geopolitically volatile region.
One of the standout strategies is community engagement. This serves multiple purposes, from guiding people away from extremism to gathering intelligence.
The Ghana Police Service, for instance, engages Muslim-dominated communities, known as “Zongos”, to counter radical Islamic ideologies that could be exploited by terrorist groups.
By collaborating with local religious leaders, police make communities aware of the dangers of radicalisation. They foster trust and encourage residents to report suspicious activities. This approach also works in tackling illegal arms circulation.
Ghana has an estimated 2.3 million small arms in circulation – 1.1 million of them illegally possessed. The availability of so many weapons fuels terrorist activities across west Africa.
Community based de-radicalisation aligns with global best practices. In Norway, for instance, it was used to disengage youth from extremist groups.
Technology at borders
Ghana’s border control management is another part of its counter-terrorism strategy. Ghana Immigration Service uses advanced security software and integrated systems like the “Immigration 360” system, designed to fully automate passenger processing and data management.
The system manages records of fingerprints and other data to improve reporting and intelligence sharing between Ghana Immigration and other security agencies.
The technology makes it possible to quickly identity individuals on terrorist watchlists and detects concealed goods. This helps prevent illegal cross-border movements.
There are gaps in Ghana’s defences, however. The influx of migrants fleeing extremist violence in Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger in 2024 highlights the urgency of scaling up investments in the technology.
Ghana combats new and varying forms of terrorism by uncovering trends and training personnel to deal with them.
A notable example was the six-day joint training in 2022 involving the Ghana Immigration Service, Police Service, Customs, Economic and Organised Crime Office, and the National Intelligence Bureau.
The country also works with regional neighbours like Burkina Faso, Togo and Benin, and partners such as the United States, through initiatives like “Operation Epic Guardian”.
Media as a strategic partner
Terrorists rely on media to amplify fear and publicise their causes. Ghana’s security agencies counter this tactic by actively engaging media houses to report accurately.
The Ghana Armed Forces, for instance, works with media to debunk false reports, which can cause public panic and inadvertently aid terrorists.
The Ghana Police Service emphasises regular dialogue with media to ensure sensitive information is verified before publication, reducing the risk of tipping off suspects. However, media competition for viewers poses a challenge.
Surveillance and intelligence gathering
Surveillance and intelligence gathering is critical. Plainclothes armed forces and immigration personnel blend into communities to monitor potential threats. The approach has worked but is constrained by resources.
It can also risk human rights violations, such as wrongful profiling, and is less effective against multiple targets compared to technological solutions like facial recognition or CCTV.
Despite its successes, Ghana’s counter-terrorism framework faces challenges that could undermine its long-term efficacy:
logistical and financial constraints
the influx of migrants fleeing regional violence
a lack of harmonised security cultures within the regional body, Ecowas.
In all, Ghana’s strategies offer lessons for west Africa, where terrorism is a growing threat.
Its community engagement model could be followed in Nigeria, Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger to counter radicalisation and arms proliferation, provided it avoids religious stereotyping.
The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Chris Houser, Professor in Department of Earth and Environmental Science, and Dean of Science, University of Waterloo
It is reported that he was swimming at Playa Cocles in Limon province when a current pulled him offshore. This is a beach popular among surfers and one that’s known to have large waves and strong currents.
It’s also a beach that I have taken students to in order to study the formation of rip currents and to better understand what beach users know about the hazard.
What exactly are rip currents?
Rip currents — commonly referred to as rips or colloquially as rip tides — are found on ocean beaches and some large lakes around the world.
The rips at Playa Cocles and along a large part of the Costa Rican Caribbean coast are known as channel or bathymetric rips that form as the nearshore sand bar moves toward the land through the summer. The water thrown towards the land by the breaking waves returns offshore as a concentrated and fast flowing current at gaps in the nearshore sand bar.
During storm conditions, we have measured the rip currents at Playa Cocles at over two metres per second. These rips are known to increase rapidly (or pulse) in strength due to changes in wave breaking, leading to unsuspecting swimmers being taken far offshore and exiting beyond the zone of breaking waves.
Rip current at Playa Cocles showing change in size and strength with surfers for scale. (Chris Houser)
While it can be difficult to spot a rip from shore, they can be identified by an area of relatively calm water between breaking waves, a patch of darker water or the offshore flow of water, sediment and debris.
Caught in a rip current
A person caught in a rip is transported away from shore into deeper waters, but they aren’t pulled under the water. If they are a weak swimmer or try to fight the current, they may panic and fail to find a way out of the rip and back to shore. Survivor stories highlight panic, anxiety, distress and fear, a tendency to fight the current and an inability to make a decision on how to escape the rip.
While it is possible to “break the grip of the rip” by swimming parallel to the beach or toward breaking waves at an angle to the beach, there is no single escape strategy due to the unique rip circulation pattern.
It’s possible to escape a rip by flipping onto your back, floating to keep your head above the water and following the current until you’re returned to the shore by the current or able to swim safely toward the shore. If you are taken beyond where the waves break, or you’re unable to swim back to shore, continue to float and signal for help.
Rip currents account for more than 50 deaths a year in Costa Rica; approximately 19 drownings a year involve foreign tourists from the United States, Nicaragua, Canada and Germany. While most drownings in the country occur on Pacific coast beaches that are a short distance to the city of San José, more than five drownings occur each year along the Caribbean coast.
On average, each drowning in Costa Rica costs more than US$2 million (USD). This includes the direct costs of search and rescue, the costs of repatriation and the long-term economic burden of a lost life. This is in addition to the great personal loss experienced by family and friends.
The majority of foreign drowning victims in Costa Rica had limited knowledge of rips and were unable to avoid the times and locations that were most hazardous.
In general, visitors to a beach often use simple visual cues when deciding to take risks. Recent studies suggest that tourists think beach access points and resorts are located adjacent to safe swimming areas, particularly when visual cues such as manicured paths and promotional posters that promote swimming at those locations.
Rip current and beach users at Playa Cocles. The red flag was placed by lifeguards to mark the location of the rip for beach users. (Chris Houser)
Playa Cocles is a beautiful beach, but it’s known to have dangerous rips depending on the size of the breaking waves and the position of the sand bar.
When visiting any beach — from the Caribbean to the Great Lakes — it’s important to remember that there may be rip currents and to take serious precautions.
Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Ruchika Gupta, Assistant Professor and Medical Microbiologist, Department of Pathobiology and Lab Medicine, London Health Sciences Centre and Schulich School of Medicine and Dentistry, Western University
Antibiotic resistance is one of the biggest health threats we face today. It’s often blamed on the overuse of antibiotics, and for a good reason. But there’s another major factor quietly driving this crisis that doesn’t get as much attention: low vaccination rates.
In early 2025, Ontario had a measles outbreak with 2,200 cases as of mid-July, mostly in people who hadn’t been fully vaccinated. An outbreak in Alberta that began in March has expanded to more than 1,300 cases as of mid-July.
Measles had been eliminated in Canada since 1998, but it’s now reappearing, largely due to missed or delayed vaccinations. On the surface, these might seem like a limited viral outbreak. But the ripple effects go much further, causing more illness, more complications and, ultimately, more antibiotic use.
Why measles can lead to antibiotic use
Measles itself is a viral infection, so antibiotics don’t treat it directly. But the virus weakens the immune system, leaving people vulnerable to bacterial infections like pneumonia or ear infections, conditions that do require antibiotics.
Unsurprisingly, this pattern isn’t new. A 2019 study published in Pediatrics showed that many children hospitalized with measles in the United States developed secondary infections that required antibiotic treatment, especially pneumonia and ear infections.
While data from the Ontario outbreak is still being analyzed, experts expect a similar surge in antibiotic prescriptions to treat these preventable complications.
The antibiotic resistance chain reaction
Every time we use antibiotics, we give bacteria a chance to adapt. (NIAID), CC BY
Here’s where it gets dangerous. Every time we use antibiotics, we give bacteria a chance to adapt. The most vulnerable bacteria die, but tougher ones survive and spread. This leads to antibiotic resistance where treatments that used to work no longer do.
Even appropriate use of antibiotics, like treating a bacterial infection after measles, adds to the problem. And the more often we need to prescribe antibiotics, the faster this resistance builds.
A 2022 global study published in The Lancet estimated that antimicrobial resistance directly caused 1.27 million deaths in 2019 and contributed to many millions more. As resistance spreads, doctors are forced to use more toxic, expensive or last-resort drugs, and sometimes, no effective treatment exists at all.
Antibiotic resistance means that treatments that used to work no longer do. (NIAID), CC BY
How vaccines help fight resistance
Vaccines are one of the most powerful tools we have not just to prevent disease, but to reduce antibiotic use and slow resistance. By stopping infections before they happen, vaccines reduce the need for antibiotics in the first place.
Some vaccines protect directly against bacteria. Pneumococcal vaccines (PCV13, PCV15, PCV20) guard against a major cause of pneumonia, brain infections and ear infections. Haemophilus influenzae type b (Hib) and diphtheria vaccines prevent other respiratory bacterial diseases.
Other vaccines protect against viruses, which can weaken the body and open the door to bacterial infections called as secondary bacterial infections.
The MMR (measles-mumps-rubella) vaccine not only prevents measles but also reduces the chance of bacterial pneumonias that often occur after measles due to immunosuppression.
In fact, a 2020 study in Nature found that improving childhood vaccination coverage in low- and middle-income countries could reduce antibiotic-treated illnesses in kids under five by more than 20 per cent. That’s a massive step forward in the fight against antibiotic resistance.
A wake-up call
The measles outbreaks in Ontario and Alberta aren’t just local issues; they are a global warning. Each missed vaccine doesn’t just put one person at risk; it potentially means more infections, more complications and more antibiotics. That, in turn, means more antibiotic resistance for everyone.
Vaccines are not just about individual protection. They are a public health strategy that keeps antibiotics effective for when we really need them, especially for vulnerable people like cancer patients, transplant recipients and the elderly, who rely on antibiotics to survive routine infections.
Vaccines, in fact, do more than prevent disease. They protect our ability to treat infections by reducing the need for antibiotics and slowing the rise of resistant bacteria. With preventable diseases like measles making a comeback, now is the time to recognize the broader impact of vaccine hesitancy.
Choosing to vaccinate is more than a personal decision. It’s a way to protect our communities and preserve the life-saving power of antibiotics for generations to come.
Ruchika Gupta does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Une scène de rave-party au Maroc dans le film _Sirat_, d’Oliver Laxe, lauréat du Prix du jury à Cannes en 2025.FilmAffinity
À l’origine illégales, les raves se voulaient des espaces d’expérimentation musicale et communautaire, aux marges de la société. Si certaines ont aujourd’hui été récupérées par l’industrie des festivals, d’autres persistent dans l’ombre, portées par une culture alternative aux codes bien établis. Un phénomène où musique électronique, spiritualité, engagement politique et contestation sociale se rencontrent.
« Notre état émotionnel est l’extase, notre nourriture est l’amour, notre addiction la technologie, notre religion la musique. Notre choix pour l’avenir, c’est la connaissance et, pour nous, la politique n’existe pas. »
C’est ainsi que débute ce que l’on appelle le Manifeste rave, publié au milieu des années 1990 sur le forum Alt.Rave. Ce texte est né en réaction à une campagne médiatique de dénigrement qui s’abattait alors sur ces fêtes. Il s’inspire des propos d’un DJ new-yorkais Frankie Bones, figure majeure de l’introduction de la culture rave aux États-Unis. L’essence de la philosophie du mouvement se résume en quatre mots : paix, amour, unité et respect (plus connus sous l’acronyme PLUR, pour Peace, Love, Unity, Respect).
Qu’est-ce qui pousse des millions de personnes à vouloir participer à ce type de fêtes ?
Les raves sont nées dans les années 1980. Les toutes premières étaient des fêtes illégales organisées dans des entrepôts désaffectés de Londres. Influencées par les free festivals et les new travellers (deux mouvements libertaires liés aux festivals artistiques et musicaux), ces free parties s’étiraient alors jusqu’à l’aube, au son du hip-hop, du groove puis, de plus en plus, de la house et de la techno venues de Chicago et Détroit.
En 1989, le Royaume-Uni connaît ce que l’on appellera le « Second Summer of Love ». Cette période est marquée par des fêtes clandestines où la jeunesse célèbre le collectif à travers la musique électronique et l’expérimentation psychotrope. Peu après, en mai 1992, le collectif Spiral Tribe organise une rave illégale d’ampleur à Castlemorton, réunissant quelque 20 000 personnes.
Malgré la répression policière et les tentatives d’interdiction par le gouvernement de Margaret Thatcher, le phénomène est déjà enraciné dans les pratiques festives de la jeunesse.
Rapidement, de nombreux clubs et discothèques britanniques intègrent des soirées électroniques à leur programmation. Légalement encadrées, ces soirées marquent l’émergence d’un second modèle de raves : les raves institutionnalisées. Elles se diffusent ensuite à travers l’Europe et le reste du monde, connaissant un véritable essor et devenant peu à peu un produit du capitalisme culturel : des fêtes commercialisées, mondialisées et peu différenciées les unes des autres.
Ce modèle inspire, par exemple, un mouvement emblématique de l’Espagne des années 1990 : la Ruta del Bakalao, un ensemble d’une dizaine de discothèques géantes à Valence. Ces clubs – Barraca, Espiral, NOD, ACTV, The Face, Spook, Puzzle, Heaven ou Chocolate – ouvrent quasiment en continu durant soixante-douze heures lors du week-end, accueillant des milliers de jeunes amateurs de musique mákina.
Comme au Royaume-Uni, la Ruta sombre dans l’oubli au milieu des années 1990. Mais avec la prolifération des festivals musicaux, les raves commerciales reviennent en force.
En Espagne, elles occupent désormais une place centrale dans les programmations, voire en deviennent l’élément principal, comme c’est le cas des festivals Dreambeach, Monegros, Medusa ou Sónar.
Quant aux raves clandestines, elles attendent le début du XXIe siècle pour gagner en popularité en Espagne. On en trouve notamment à Madrid (dans le tunnel de Boadilla ou au monastère de Perales del Río), en Andalousie (Grenade, Almería) ou en Catalogne.
Intro du court-métrage documentaire Cultura rave andaluza (2024), d’Alexia Rodríguez Pérez.
De plus en plus de « ravers » ?
Plus largement, depuis le début du XXIe siècle, particulièrement depuis la pandémie de Covid-19, le mouvement raver ne cesse de gagner des adeptes. Ses partisans sont attirés par sa forme de loisir contre-culturelle et hédoniste, aux accents parfois rituels, voire quasi religieux.
Aujourd’hui, les deux grandes tendances coexistent : les raves commerciales (intégrées à la culture clubbing et festivalière) et les clandestines, ou free parties. Ce sont ces dernières qui suscitent le plus de controverses. Organisées par des collectifs appelés sound systems, elles sont secrètes, autogérées, non lucratives (les recettes servent à financer la fête), durent souvent plusieurs jours et se tiennent à l’écart des centres urbains pour éviter les conflits.
Elles exigent une logistique importante : tours de haut-parleurs, générateurs, essence, câblages, décors et éclairages sophistiqués. Ces fêtes ont toujours intégré une dimension visuelle et scénique forte.
Elles constituent aussi des espaces communautaires en rupture avec la vie quotidienne : des hétérotopies ou zones liminales où l’amour, la paix, l’unité et le respect sont les règles du vivre-ensemble. Elles se veulent des espaces sûrs, non violents, où les femmes sont respectées et non sexualisées.
Et ce, malgré la consommation de drogues associée à ces événements, où le cannabis et l’ecstasy – liés à la danse et à la fusion avec la musique – sont préférés au tabac, au LSD, à la cocaïne ou à l’alcool, dont la consommation peut parfois être mal vue.
Sur le plan sociologique, les raves se distinguent par leur hétérogénéité et leur diversité. Selon leur style musical prédominant (techno, hardtechno, électronique, house, psychedelic trance, breakcore), elles attirent qui des clubbers, qui des punks, qui des hippies ou encore d’autres tenants de subcultures urbaines contemporaines. Et comme l’indique le Manifeste rave, tout le monde y est le bienvenu :
« Nous sommes une entité massive, un village tribal, global, qui dépasse toutes les lois établies par l’homme, ainsi que la géographie et le temps lui-même. Nous sommes innombrables. Nous sommes un. »
Cristina Pérez-Ordóñez ne travaille pas, ne conseille pas, ne possède pas de parts, ne reçoit pas de fonds d’une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n’a déclaré aucune autre affiliation que son organisme de recherche.
Debout sur la statue renversée de Hafez Al-Assad, qui surplombait la ville de Deir Atiyeh, dans le Qalamoun (ouest du pays)… _La Chute_, de Mohamad Khayata, installation-photo. Mohamad Khayata, Fourni par l’auteur
À l’issue d’un récent séjour sur le terrain, Albane Buriel, chercheuse spécialisée en science de l’éducation, dresse un portrait ethnographique de la scène artistique syrienne depuis la chute du régime de Bachar Al-Assad en décembre 2024. Des initiatives et des collectifs émergent, de Damas à Alep en passant par Homs. Les artistes se réapproprient les lieux, les visages et les souvenirs, pour rendre hommage aux victimes du régime. L’art s’impose comme un outil essentiel sur le chemin vers la reconstruction.
Ce séjour était mon troisième en Syrie, mais le premier dans un contexte de bascule. Entre mai et juin 2025, j’ai mené un terrain ethnographique à Damas, Homs et Alep, dans un pays suspendu entre chute autoritaire et recomposition fragile. La chute du régime Assad, survenue le 8 décembre 2024, ouvre une période de recomposition politique marquée par la libération du pays. J’ai tenté de comprendre ce que signifie « reconstruire une société » après quatorze ans de guerre.
J’ai vu un pays traversé par des dynamiques discrètes de recomposition, où l’art, la mémoire et la parole réinventent des formes de vie et de justice. À travers les gestes et les récits d’artistes et de collectifs, j’ai observé la réémergence d’une parole publique, fragile, mais puissante, souvent située dans les interstices du politique et du sensible.
De la révolution confisquée aux mots qui cherchent de l’espace
Pour comprendre l’effervescence actuelle, il faut revenir sur le long silence imposé dans le pays. Avant 2011, la scène artistique syrienne était vivante, mais étroitement surveillée. Quelques artistes formulaient des critiques feutrées, mais les lignes rouges du régime bridaient l’expression.
En 2011, la révolution change tout : slogans, banderoles, vidéos clandestines, théâtre de rue surgissent. L’art sort dans l’espace public. Très vite, la répression est brutale. L’expression devient un acte de survie. Les lieux culturels ferment, l’exil s’intensifie. Une scène artistique se recompose, souvent hors du pays.
Depuis la chute du régime, un souffle de liberté traverse l’espace public. Certains parlent enfin sans peur, circulent librement, exposent. Mais la libération reste fragile. Les blessures sont vives, les récits dissonants, les attentes multiples. Cette libération s’accompagne d’un appel à la reconnaissance : il s’agit de faire en sorte que la Syrie soit regardée autrement, non comme une terre d’exil ou de ruines, mais comme une société vivante, en quête de dignité. L’art redevient espace de deuil, de projection, de partage.
Réinvestir les lieux : mémoire populaire et héritage révolutionnaire
Lors de mon séjour, l’ancienne gare de Hijaz à Damas a accueilli une exposition consacrée aux célèbres pancartes de Kafranbel, ville du Nord-Ouest syrien devenue, dès 2011, le cœur visuel de la révolution.
Chaque vendredi, jour des manifestations, des habitants y créaient des affiches illustrées, drôles et acérées, appelant à la liberté et à la justice. Kafranbel était un véritable laboratoire de créativité populaire. L’exposition, conçue par de jeunes artistes syriens, proposait une relecture scénographiée de ces slogans iconiques. Présentés dans un espace patrimonial, les messages ne sont ni figés ni dépolitisés, mais restitués dans toute leur force. L’exposition affirmait ainsi un attachement à la mémoire populaire de la révolution, en permettant aux passants de la capitale de la redécouvrir dans un cadre poétique et accessible.
Exposition des banderoles de Kafranbel, gare de Hijaz, Damas. Albane Buriel, CC BY
Autre lieu, autre geste. Au Musée national de Damas, l’exposition « Les détenus et les disparus », portée par la plateforme Mémoire créative de la révolution syrienne, retrace quatorze années de créations nées du soulèvement et de l’oppression : affiches, pancartes, slogans calligraphiés, poèmes, vidéos, peintures murales et visuels militants.
Une scénographie chronologique donne à voir les imaginaires politiques d’une révolution confisquée, depuis les slogans révolutionnaires jusqu’aux récits des détentions, des formes de résistance, des disparitions forcées, puis des procès de 2020 pour crimes contre l’humanité, engagés en Allemagne.
La photographie The Fall (la Chute), de Mohamad Khayata, clôt l’exposition comme elle clôt une époque (image présentée en tête de l’article, ndlr). Elle montre la statue renversée de Hafez Al-Assad, qui a longtemps surplombé la ville de Deir Atiyeh, dans le Qalamoun (ouest du pays). Sur le visage de la statue renversée, une femme se tient debout enveloppée dans une couverture traditionnelle. Cela ne s’apparente pas simplement à une fin, mais à un basculement d’imaginaire. Comme si cette énorme figure de béton, écrasée dans les gravats, laissait enfin place à autre chose.
En juin dernier, à la suite de cette exposition, l’artiste syrienne Rania Al-Najdi a présenté Origami Birds : For Those Who Will Not Be Forgotten (Oiseaux en origami : Pour ceux qui ne seront pas oubliés), une installation de 1 500 oiseaux de papier en hommage aux disparus syriens.
Ancienne prisonnière politique en 2013, Rania a conçu cette œuvre comme un acte de mémoire et de justice, en collaboration directe avec des familles des détenus. Chaque oiseau représente une vie volée, un inconnu de la liste du rapport « César ». Publié en 2014, il rassemble 55 000 photos exfiltrées par un déserteur de la police militaire syrienne, documentant la torture et l’exécution de milliers de détenus dans les prisons du régime Assad. Une absence devenue présence. L’exposition mêle éclairages sensibles, témoignages, sons et vidéos.
L’exposition a réuni familles, citoyens et représentants d’institutions en quête de vérité. Rania rappelle :
« Ils ne sont pas que des prénoms. Nous devons rendre justice aux martyrs et aux détenus. »
Des familles syriennes brandissent les portraits de leurs proches disparus, pour que leurs visages ne tombent pas dans l’oubli. Ali Hajsuleiman, CC BY
Des collectifs pour une mémoire vivante
Si ces expositions réinvestissent des lieux centraux, d’autres gestes se déploient en marge, dans les villes ou les interstices de l’institutionnel.
À Damas et Alep, la fondation MADAD, fondée par l’artiste Buthayna Ali, transforme des lieux abandonnés en scènes contemporaines. Depuis la chute du régime Assad, MADAD déploie des projets artistiques plus audacieux, visibles dans l’espace public et porteurs de récits longtemps refoulés.
L’exposition « Path » (avril 2025) est présentée dans le bâtiment abandonné Massar Rose à Damas. Elle réunit 29 artistes autour des thèmes de la mémoire, du pardon et du retour. Certaines œuvres – comme une épée d’argile fichée dans le sol ou des lettres brûlées – évoquent l’abandon de la violence et la transmission interrompue. Une volonté explicite de traiter les blessures du conflit dans un espace urbain reconquis.
« Embed », de Rala Tarabishi, rassemble 300 épées suspendues en argile. Elles symbolisent les émotions violentes et les blessures. Ahmad Shhibar, CC BY
Aujourd’hui, MADAD prolonge cette démarche avec Unseen, un concours destiné aux jeunes artistes du nord du pays, explique Kinana Alkoud, une artiste investie dans le processus de sélection. L’exposition finale, prévue dans un hammam restauré à Alep, explorera ces choses que l’on voit sans regarder : gestes quotidiens, souvenirs enfouis, peurs silencieuses.
Homs : créer malgré l’instabilité
Homs, marquée par les destructions et les fractures communautaires, reste une ville à vif, où la mémoire divise encore.
Depuis 2020, le Harmony Forum développe des projets artistiques de consolidation de la paix. Son programme Beyond Colors 3 (2023–2024) a réuni vingt jeunes issus de confessions diverses. Peinture, installation, performance : les œuvres produites explorent la perte, l’exil, la reconstruction intime. Présentées dans une tente sur une place centrale, ces créations ont touché de nombreux visiteurs. Une artiste se souvient :
« Les gens racontaient leurs propres histoires. Leurs souvenirs faisaient écho à ce que nous avions voulu dire. »
Vue de l’installation « Un rêve temporaire », de Layla Al-Hashemy et Mario Butrus, dans la première tente. Harmony Forum, CC BY
À Homs, un volontaire décrit un basculement depuis décembre 2024. Faute de sécurité suffisante, les expositions publiques ont laissé place à des films documentaires. Deux projets sont en cours : Revival, sur la mémoire de Homs et de sa campagne, et Fanjan, consacré au café arabe comme symbole de paix et de transmission. Une manière discrète, mais profonde de continuer à tisser du lien, malgré l’instabilité. Là où se réunir autour de la mémoire peut encore être perçu comme un risque.
Madaniya : pour une mémoire politique de la transition
Dans un registre plus explicitement politique, le collectif syrien Madaniya, fondé en 2023, en exil à l’époque, réunit artistes, chercheurs, militants et écrivains autour d’un même refus : celui d’une normalisation qui ne s’accompagnerait pas de justice rendue aux victimes. Ils défendent une reconstruction centrée sur la vérité, la mémoire et la réparation, où la culture devient un levier citoyen.
Leur programme, « Dialogue syrien sur la justice, la vérité et la réparation », multiplie les ateliers mêlant artistes, survivants et juristes pour penser les contours d’une justice post-conflit enracinée dans l’écoute et la vérité. Théâtre-témoignage, installations, archives visuelles : autant d’outils pour penser une justice sensible, partagée, en dehors des cadres classiques.
En mai dernier, à Damas, une veillée rendait hommage à Bassel Shehadeh, un jeune documentariste et journaliste tué en mai 2012 à Homs, devenu aujourd’hui l’un des symboles de la révolution. L’événement, conçu sous forme de veillée-performance, mêlait lectures poétiques, projection de vidéos d’archives, exposition de portraits et moment de silence collectif.
Témoignages des proches de Bassel Shehadeh durant la soirée-hommage. Albane Buriel, CC BY
À travers cette diversité d’actions, Madaniya entend maintenir vivante une mémoire politique des soulèvements de 2011, et rappeler que la reconstruction ne peut se limiter à des infrastructures ou à des accords diplomatiques. Le collectif propose ainsi une vision critique et profondément incarnée de la transition, dans laquelle l’art devient un acte de résistance, de reconnaissance, et d’avenir.
Dans les marges, un futur à inventer
Ces exemples ne prétendent pas représenter toute la Syrie. Une large part de la population reste à distance : peur, précarité, silence. L’accès inégal à l’expression, la censure ou l’indifférence creusent les fractures. Ces dynamiques restent localisées, fragiles. Et pourtant, dans les marges, quelque chose se dit. Là où les institutions manquent, des gestes surgissent. L’art ne reconstruit pas un pays, mais il ouvre des brèches : pour dire, pour pleurer, pour résister. Il ne remplace ni les procès ni les réparations, mais offre un espace pour réhabiter le présent, comme en témoigne, par exemple, Romain Huët dans ses « Chroniques d’Ukraine : L’art face à la guerre » (The Conversation, 2022).
Dans un article publié en juin 2025 sur Al-Jumhuriya, un site d’analyse politique, Yassin al-Haj Saleh, écrivain et opposant politique au régime de Bachar Al-Assad, appelait à une justice existentielle. Il mettait en garde : sans vigilance, la transition pourrait favoriser une culture aseptisée, coupée de la mémoire du conflit.
Mais, selon lui, un apprentissage politique souterrain s’est tissé dans les ruines – une maturation lente qui pourrait fonder les bases d’une justice réparatrice, non seulement juridique, mais aussi culturelle et symbolique. Raison de plus pour prêter attention à ces signaux faibles. Sur les murs d’Alep, dans les ateliers de Homs ou les galeries de Damas, une autre Syrie se dessine – une Syrie qui tente, par fragments, de faire récit ensemble.
Mais ces signes d’ouverture restent ambivalents. Le nouveau régime, issu d’une matrice sécuritaire et militaire, tolère certaines formes d’expression artistique – tant qu’elles ne remettent pas en cause les équilibres fragiles du moment : cohésion communautaire, contrôle des récits sur la guerre, image de stabilité à l’international. La surveillance persiste, les lignes rouges demeurent floues, et les artistes pratiquent souvent une autocensure prudente, sans connaître clairement les limites à ne pas franchir. Les dénonciations explicites des crimes passés restent rares, et les récits sur les exactions commises par les différents camps – y compris ceux aujourd’hui au pouvoir – peinent à trouver leur place dans l’espace public. La mémoire, en Syrie, reste un terrain miné.
Albane Buriel ne travaille pas, ne conseille pas, ne possède pas de parts, ne reçoit pas de fonds d’une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n’a déclaré aucune autre affiliation que son organisme de recherche.
