As international peacekeepers prepare to finally leave Sudan's war-torn Darfur region, concerns are growing for the safety of civilians if the new fragile peace deal there fails, as the BBC's Mike Thomson reports. By Mike Thomson Fourteen-year-old Abdullah sits on an old tire outside a ramshackle hut in a sprawling, impoverished camp for displaced people. He was born in Abu Shouk camp, just outside Fasher in North Darfur, where he has spent his entire life - he has never seen the village his family calls home. "I've been told that my family and other relatives were living together in a very beautiful village surrounded by green land. "My parents have told me that it was a lovely place and that life was so much better there. Abdullah, who has only seen a television once in his life, lives in fear of armed gangs who often raid the camp at night. "We have to hide, there's nothing more we can do. If you confront them you'll be attacked." It is hoped that a recent peace deal will enable Abdullah and his family to go home, and finally put an end to the 17-year-long conflict in Darfur, which has left 300,000 people dead and forced 2.5 million people to flee their homes. The violence began back in 2003 when armed groups there rebelled against the government, claiming their region was neglected. Khartoum responded by arming Arab nomad herders, who became known as the notorious Janjaweed, and paying them to brutally suppress the uprising. Most rebel groups have now signed a peace agreement with the government, but at least 1.5 million people, like Abdullah, remain in around 60 camps spread across Darfur. Most, like Zara, who has been in Abu Shouk camp for 17 years, aching to go home, but still can't. "We cannot go to farm our lands simply because they're occupied by others. They're the ones who killed us, they're the ones who displaced us, and we're still here." 'Every day is killing' A trip to the jittery town of Nertiti, about six hours drive from Abu Shouk camp, highlights another reason why many displaced people are still refusing to go home. Most farmers there are too afraid to go into their fields following numerous killings and rapes. Those in the town itself clearly are not safe either. Armed groups, described as Janjaweed, recently shot dead Khadiga Ishag's husband and one of her sons before shooting her too at their home in Nertiti. "Every day is a crisis, every day is killing," she said. "We don't trust our government, the military, or the police, we really don't trust them at all. If a solution isn't found there will be genocide here." The reason Khadiga and others are frightened of the army is that its ranks have long contained many former Janjaweed fighters, the very people who terrorized them for so long. Not only that but under the new peace deal members of other armed groups are to be amalgamated into the Sudanese military. There is another reason too. At the end of December the international peacekeeping force Unamid, once the biggest in the world, is finally pulling out of Sudan after 13 years. Despite the widely held belief that this combined United Nations-African Union force has not always been effective in protecting civilians here, its presence is thought to have helped curb abuses by the security forces. False dawns Many are pinning their hopes on the country's new half-civilian-half-military transitional government. It came to power after mass street protests in 2019 toppled former President Omar al-Bashir after 30 years of dictatorial rule. He has since been jailed on corruption charges and stands accused by the International Criminal Court of war crimes in Darfur. Sudan's Minister of Culture and Information, Faisal Mohammed Mohammed Salih, a former civil rights activist who was once jailed by the old regime, is part of the new look transitional government. While accepting that there are widespread fear and distrust by civilians of the military, he insists that injustices will no longer be tolerated. "All individuals accused of any kind of crime in Darfur will be put on trial. No-one will be exempt from this," he said. Under the peace agreement, a land commission is also being set up to help people whose land has been taken while they have been in camps, as well as also looking into the rights of nomadic herders. Yet back at Abu Shouk camp near Fasher, such measures mean little to those who have seen many false dawns since the conflict began in 2003. It is perhaps toughest for the young, such as 14-year-old Abdullah, who have known nothing but conflict, hunger, and displacement camps. Sitting quietly outside his family's hut he draws shapes in the sand with a twig, though his mind is clearly elsewhere. "In my dreams, I will have a life without threats, where people go safely to and from their farms. "A place where I can have a decent life. But I do find it difficult to imagine this because it would be so different to all I've known." Access the full article here . BBC © 2020

By Nathaniel Hill Photo: Portraits of Abdullah Gamidov, his wife Khalida, and her father Zia Chumidze lie on the checkerboard in the Gamidov's house in Kant, Kyrgystan. Zia Chumidze was fighting at the frontline when the deportation happened and never made it home. © Temo Bardzimashvili From Georgia, Central Asia, Russia, Ukraine, and the United States; the perpetual exile of the Ahıska Turks was part of Stalin's horrific deportations against ethnic minorities. The Ahıska were forced from their homes in Georgia to live imprisoned lives in Central Asia. After facing ethnic violence in the 1990s, persecution in the 2000s, and currently as refugees; the Ahıska have managed to preserve its culture and sense of community. This report briefly describes the Ahıska, their deportation, their persecutions, and the ongoing struggle to return home. From Exile to Exile: The Perpetual Deportation of the Ahıska Turks

By Nathaniel Hill Genocide Watch staff have published the eleventh Timestream in a series of critical genocides in the world. This Timestream attempts to document the over hundred years-long Armenia-Azerbaijan conflict, its atrocities, and its consequences in a holistic and unbiased manner. The conflict is primarily a dispute over the ownership of Nagorno-Karabakh, known to Armenians and "Artsakh" and to Azerbaijanis as "Qarabag". The conflict has permeated all facets of Armenian and Azerbaijani life and is a defining characteristic of both societies. See the full Timestream here and view our other Timestreams here .

By Mike Thomson The Islamic State (IS) group has launched more than 100 attacks in north-eastern Syria over the last month alone and is terrorising many towns and villages at night. The violence is concentrated in the largely desert province of Deir al-Zour. Syrian researcher Ali (his real name, along with the name of the non-governmental organisation he works for withheld for his own protection) has been compiling statistics on the attacks. He says the violence is taking many forms. "Beheadings, bombings, motorcycle suicide, assassination and kidnappings - and we're just talking about a small area east of Deir al-Zour city." In one of these recent attacks, 40 people were killed when an IS sleeper cell ambushed a bus . Ali says civilians are most vulnerable after sundown, when IS fighters move into what's fast becoming a security vacuum. "At night they are in fear [and] in the hands of IS fighters. They used to go to the authorities [for protection] but nobody responds. They always say we don't have enough arms to fight them, so they evacuate. After sunset all the soldiers related to the SDF [Syrian Democratic Forces] leave the town." Amira (not her real name) has relatives in the SDF, a Kurdish-led force which spearheaded the fight against IS in the region with the support of a US-led coalition, driving it out of territory the jihadists had captured and controlled. She says her town is now a terrifying place after darkness falls. "In the area that I live in at night it's almost under the IS members' control. They are moving around, attacking houses and threatening people. It's frightening... as [the] SDF almost has no control over the city at night... but also during the day even. There is no day passing without one or two people getting killed." Killed without warning Amira says that anyone thought to have links with either the Damascus government or the SDF are most at risk. The former are often told by IS members to quit their jobs or face the consequences. Those believed by the jihadists to have connections with the SDF are often killed without warning. Shopkeepers and other businesspeople are also being targeted, usually via threatening texts or phone calls. They're told to pay large sums, sometimes as much as $5,000 (€4,200; £3,700), or face family members being killed or kidnapped. Some local criminals are now taking advantage of this climate of fear by pretending to belong to IS and demanding money using similar threats. Amira says that because local security forces have failed to stop this, some people have resorted to calling on the jihadists themselves for help. "Recently three men were threatening people, saying they were from IS. But instead of paying them the people asked the jihadists if they were really were members of theirs. IS said they weren't and killed all three of them." At the height of its success, the self-proclaimed IS "caliphate" stretched across vast areas of Syria and Iraq, and was the about the size of the UK. But after a series of defeats the jihadists lost their last piece of territory in March 2019. At the time, America's then president, Donald Trump, announced that the group had been "100 per cent defeated", but that assertion has proved to be well wide of the mark. Last year, IS claimed to have carried out nearly 600 attacks in Syria and more than 1,400 in neighbouring Iraq. Fertile ground There are around 10,000 IS fighters in Syria and Iraq, UN experts believe, and its Under-Secretary General for Counter-Terrorism, Vladimir Voronkov, fears that the group is once again a growing threat. "After their territorial defeat in Iraq and Syria in 2019, IS started to reconstitute in a covert network, and this strength has continued," he told the BBC. Some fear that with much of the world preoccupied with the Covid-19 pandemic the situation could get even worse. Among them is Amira. She insists that unless more effort is put into fighting the jihadist threat, growing numbers of local people may take the view that if you can't beat them, join them. "If the situation continues as it is, I think people will go back to actually supporting IS in the area. Because when IS was in control, yes it was scary and yes, they were killing people, but there was some kind of safety in a way, compared to the current situation." © 2021 BBC

In the countrywide protests against the coup, nobody is talking about the future of the persecuted Rohingya minority. By Mayyu Ali Daniel Zender COX’S BAZAR, Bangladesh — I have been living in a refugee camp here since 2017, after the campaign of murder, rape and arson by the military in Myanmar forced more than 750,000 people from the Rohingya community to flee our homes in Rakhine State. Since the military coup in Myanmar on Feb. 1, our camp has been abuzz with conversation and even more uncertainty about the future. Gen. Min Aung Hlaing, who ordered the genocidal violence against us, has taken charge of the country. Protests against the coup have spread across Myanmar, and I have been scanning news reports and social media posts about the gatherings — which have continued for days, some bringing together thousands of people — to find out whether the coup was making my countrymen rethink their indifference. I have been hoping to hear a few words about our predicament, about our future, as they speak about democracy and democratic rights. I looked at dozens of posts and images, and eventually I found one photograph, a young man on a street in Myanmar holding a banner that read: “I Really regret abt Rohingya crisis.” I found a few reports of a very small number of people in Myanmar expressing their regrets over supporting or defending the violence against the Rohingya. But I couldn’t find any leaders from Daw Aung San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy saying a word about the place of the Rohingya in the democratic system they are demanding. I was born in a Rohingya family in Maungdaw, a town in Rakhine State, in 1991. Decades before I was born, the military curtailed our rights and dismissed us as culturally and racially different Bengali illegal immigrants. In 1982, it passed a law to effectively deny us citizenship. Being a Rohingya in Myanmar meant living carefully and being resigned to limited access to education, health care and other social services. Yet I always found a glimmer of hope when I heard my grandfather speak admiringly of Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi and her party, which he had formally joined. He would tell me how he welcomed N.L.D. campaigners into our home by slaughtering the biggest cow in our herd when the military allowed national elections to be held in 1990. He would speak of leaving home for days, campaigning in other villages, persuading our people to vote for the N.L.D. (The military ignored her victory and placed her under house arrest until 2010, when a quasi-democratic transition began.) In the 2015 election, my family and other Rohingya still put our faith in Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi and the N.L.D., hoping she would help end the discrimination and violence we faced. But when the Rohingya arrived at the polling booths, we were turned away and denied the right to vote. Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi refused to speak about our disenfranchisement. The N.L.D. won in a landslide, but things only got worse for us. The deep-seated prejudice the Buddhist majority had for us only intensified after the quasi-democratic opening, as if a lid had been removed. By that time, internet service was widely available and cheap, and every third person in the country started using Facebook. The rhetoric, the hate and the violence against us was amplified after ultranationalist Buddhist monks and the military started hate campaigns against us on the social network. Every day I logged in I came across hateful posts calling us “Kalar,” “Bengalis” and “Terrorists.” The exhortations to kill us followed. Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi and her government looked the other way. And then, in 2017, the military crackdown came. Thousands of Rohingya civilians were killed, and hundreds of women and young girls were raped. On Aug. 28, 2017, my parents and I were at home in Maungdaw when dozens of military trucks arrived and the soldiers formed a cordon around our village. My parents and I hid by a creek. We watched our friends and neighbors being shot by the soldiers and our village set on fire. I couldn’t muster the courage to look back at my burning home, but I watched the flames rising high in the sky. We crossed the Bay of Bengal in boats to seek refuge and safety. Kutupalong refugee camp in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh. Credit...Sergey Ponomarev for The New York Times In our refugee camp in Cox’s Bazar, I live with my family of seven in a 16-foot tarpaulin structure. More than 100,000 people are crammed in a square mile. There have been protests in the refugee camp against the military coup, but no tears are being shed for Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi, who has defended the military and its genocidal violence. After the coup, General Min Aung Hlaing spoke about his intention to bring back Rohingya refugees from Bangladesh. We have no faith in him. He talked about our repatriation for the benefit of the United States and the European Union, to avoid sanctions. The general has already deployed troops from the military’s light infantry divisions — the forces that carried out the genocidal violence against us — in Yangon. I fear for the terrible violence to come and worry about the fate of the 600,000 Rohingya who are still living in Myanmar. Thousands of them are confined to camps in Rakhine State. I managed to reach one of my friends, who still lives in my hometown, by phone. “The military has banned Facebook, WhatsApp and other social media,” he told me. “Markets and shops are closed. Mosques have been shut down in Maungdaw after the military coup. “No one goes outside. We are extremely fearful. We do not know what can happen next.” © 2021 The New York Times Company

The government, strongly tied to the military, is blocking inquiries into wartime atrocities, undermining efforts to learn the fates of thousands of missing people. By Mujib Mashal The families of the missing hold small roadside sit-ins or canvass the scarred villages of Sri Lanka’s ravaged north, hugging photos of the tens of thousands who disappeared during the country’s brutal civil war. In each place, the parents and grandparents ask the authorities a simple question: Where are our children? The protests have continued virtually uninterrupted for more than four years, allowed by a government open to an accounting of the human toll of the war. Now, the already desperate protests seem hopeless. Sri Lanka has a new government that has turned even remembering into an act of resistance. Since Gotabaya Rajapaksa took charge as president in late 2019, the authorities have raided news outlets, harassed and investigated journalists and activists, and dragged human rights lawyers and writers to jail and held them for months without charges, rights watchdogs like Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch say. Investigators looking into wartime abuses have been jailed, forced to flee the country or put under travel bans, in a clear message that the government sees accountability for past crimes as an affront. That’s no coincidence. Sri Lanka’s new government is led by the same people who brought the three-decade war to a brutal end in 2009, then squelched discussion of it for half a decade after. During the final, brutal phase of the civil war, Mr. Rajapaksa, a former army officer, served as the defense minister. “We don’t have hope anymore,” said Leeladevi Anandanadaraja, the secretary to the Association for the Relatives of the Enforced Disappearances, whose own 34-year-old son went missing after his arrest by the military in 2009. “That is why we think we need international interference in this issue.” The deterioration of Sri Lanka’s human rights situation will be high on the agenda when the United Nations Human Rights Council meets on Wednesday. The government’s critics want Sri Lanka to return to its recently abandoned commitment to cooperate with investigation of war crimes committed by all sides during the war. They also hope to curb the heavy-handedness of a government dominated by the largely Buddhist Sinhalese ethnic majority. Human rights groups have accused Mr. Rajapaksa’s government of alienating and discriminating against ethnic and religious minorities, including the predominantly Hindu Tamils in the north. Such policies evoke some of the same tensions that fueled the civil war in the first place, when Tamil rebels responded to oppression by trying to establish a breakaway state. The U.N. council will consider the findings of Michelle Bachelet , the High Commissioner for Human Rights, who in a Feb. 9 assessment expressed deep concern about the direction of the country and even floated the possibility that the case could be referred to the International Criminal Court. “Developments over the past year have fundamentally changed the environment for advancing reconciliation, accountability and human rights in Sri Lanka, eroded democratic checks and balances and the civic space, and permitted the resurfacing of a dangerous exclusionary and majoritarian discourse,” Ms. Bachelet wrote in the report. In opening remarks to the Human Rights Council on Tuesday, Sri Lanka’s foreign minister, Dinesh Gunawardena, called the scathing U.N. report the work of “elements working against Sri Lanka” and decried it as infringing on the country’s sovereignty. Mr. Gunawardena called on member states not to adopt a resolution against Sri Lanka based on the report, as it would result in a “loss of morale among countries engaged in the struggle against terrorism.” “The council must hold the scales even,” he said. For a brief period, Sri Lanka, along with Myanmar, was seen as a success story for emerging from the shadows of conflict as a blossoming democracy. In 2015, an unlikely political coalition defeated Mahinda Rajapaksa, the sitting president whose government had crushed the Tamil insurgency in 2009, and the older brother of the current president. The new government committed to accountability for wartime abuses, began addressing wartime grievances and opened space for civil society to emerge, putting the country on the path to healing some of the wounds of the devastating war. The families of those who had disappeared during the war began to clamor for an accounting of what had happened. “The surveillance didn’t exactly stop completely. They did not demilitarize,” Ambika Satkunanathan, a former member of Sri Lanka’s human rights commission, said of the security structures during that period. “But because there was the space, the civil society felt emboldened to challenge it.” But the next four years were marked by messy infighting within the coalition, which paralyzed the government. That discord contributed to a lapse of security that allowed a major terrorist attack on Easter Sunday in 2019, when coordinated bombings killed more than 250 people. In that moment of fear, Gotabaya Rajapaksa projected himself as the strongman the country needed. He won elections later that year , despite criticism of his defense ministry leadership during the war. His brother, Mahinda, the former president, became prime minister. The civil space that had emerged “is gone now,” said Ms. Satkunanathan, adding that the recent return of Myanmar to full-fledged military dictatorship was a warning. “The lesson is that sometimes being satisfied with scraps and not calling out a government when they don’t meet agreements — that does not work,” she said. Reports by human rights watchdogs say that Gotabaya Rajapaksa, who stacked his government with former military officers, obstructed investigations into past crimes and called those efforts “political victimization” of security officers. They also accused him of adopting policies that favor the country’s Sinhalese but are offensive to minority communities. One policy that has drawn heavy criticism is the forced cremation of people who have died of Covid-19, over the protests of Muslims who say it disrespects their faith and its insistence on burial. The government continues the practice, saying that burial poses a health risk, despite assurances from medical experts and the World Health Organization that it does not. M.S.M. Fahim, whose 20-day-old son died of Covid-19 at a hospital, said the government went ahead with the cremation even when he objected. “I waited for six years to have a son,” Mr. Fahim said. “When he died, I was very sad, and when he was cremated, it made things worse for me. I was not even able to say goodbye to my son properly.” Much of the fear for the direction of the country stems from the increasing intolerance of free speech and remembrances of past atrocities. Gotabaya Rajapaksa paints the continued protests for the disappeared and the calls for justice as disrespect for a military that defeated an insurgency that resorted to brutal acts of terror . Activists say harassment by security officers has caused the ranks of protesters to dwindle, though many persist in their campaign to get answers about the fate of their loved ones. Sandya Ekneligoda, who has been campaigning for justice for her missing husband, the political cartoonist and columnist Prageeth Ekneligoda, said those who had provided her a network of support for years now fear associating with her. To mark 11 years since Prageeth disappeared, Ms. Ekneligoda — who is raising two teenage sons on her own — is sharing an archive of his work, including his unfinished cartoons. At the launch last month, she laid out his paintbrushes and other drawing tools. “I don’t feel lonely because I keep myself occupied with the campaign and with gardening — everything is expensive now, so I plant vegetables in the garden to make ends meet,” Ms. Ekneligoda said. “I still share everything with Prageeth. I talk to him in my head when I am alone. It helps.” “I never wondered if Prageeth is alive or not,” she added. “In reality he could be dead, but for me he is very alive.” © The New York Times 2021

Militants have killed at least 10 people in Nigeria by using rocket-propelled grenades, which local officials describe as a "new trend". By Mayeni Jones Suspected Boko Haram militants fired from the outskirts of the north-eastern city of Maiduguri into densely populated areas, according to Borno state governor Babagana Zulumon. He said the use of these weapons "has to be stopped". It is the worst attack of its kind in Maiduguri in a year. The city is the birthplace of Boko Haram. The militants came through Boboshe village, a known Boko Haram enclave, AFP news agency quotes eyewitness Sama'ila Ibrahim as saying. They then crossed the ditch fortification around Maiduguri and started shooting sporadically which sent people scrambling for safety, he added. Explosives began to rain down near the University of Maiduguri at around 18:00 local time on Tuesday, Reuters news agency quotes witnesses as saying. One of the grenades hit a children's playground, Mr Zulumon said. It is not clear if any of the children are among the casualties. The sound of gunfire died down by 19:30 as the military fought the attackers, Reuters reports. Attack signifies a breach of city's extensive defences This strike in the heart of the capital of Borno state is a reminder that insurgents can still cause serious harm to civilian populations. Attacks using rocket-propelled grenades have been rare in Maiduguri, but are becoming more common. A similar attack on the city took place in July 2020 when three rockets left four dead and three wounded. It had a much lower death toll but suggests a pattern may be forming. The city is heavily guarded and is seen as one of the safest places in the besieged state of Borno. But launching bombs from a distance enables militants to reach targets that they couldn't otherwise access. The militants' ability to strike a densely populated neighbourhood has spooked many of Maiduguri's residents and raises questions as to how they were able to breach the city's defences. No group has yet claimed responsibility for the attack, but Maiduguri has frequently been targeted by the insurgents. The Boko Haram insurgency, which has lasted for more than a decade, has killed at least 36,000 people and displaced two million in north-eastern Nigeria. Boko Haram is not the only active jihadist group in the region - the Islamic State West Africa Province (Iswap) emerged as a splinter group in 2016. © BBC 2021

By Nathaniel Hill April 24th, 2021 marks the 106th Anniversary of the Armenian Genocide. In 1915, the Ottoman Empire began a systematic campaign of deportation, rape, and extermination of the Armenian population of Eastern Turkey. An estimated 1.5 million Armenians were killed alongside the Ottoman Greek and Assyrian populations. The genocide eventually created the large Armenian Diaspora around the world today and is a painful memory that all Armenians carry. For the past 105 years, the Turkish government has refused to call the events in 1915 a "genocide" and has since created a large-scale campaign to deny the Armenian Genocide. So far only 32 countries recognize the Armenian Genocide. Help Genocide Watch fight genocide denial by reading and sharing our handout on the Armenian Genocide attached below: Forget-Me-Not Flower--Symbol of Remembrance for Armenian Genocide: The black dot symbolizes the past and the suffering of the Armenian people Light purple petals symbolize the present and unity of all Armenians Five purple leaves symbolize the future, and the five continents Armenians fled to Twelve yellow sections represent hope and the twelve provinces lost to Turkey

By Nathaniel Hill Greek Refugees after the Smyrna fire, 1922. Photo: Albert Kahn Following Joe Biden's recognition of the Armenian Genocide, Genocide Watch would like to draw attention to the Greek Genocide, which happened at the same time and circumstances, yet receives little international recognition. From 1914 to 1923 over 1 million Cappadocian, Pontic and Asia Minor Greeks were murdered by Ottoman authorities and over 800,000 are estimated to have been deported. Turkey still refuses to recognize the events as "genocide" and currently only six countries (Armenia, Cyprus, Greece, Austria, Netherlands, Sweden) have recognized the Greek Genocide. May 19th marks the 107th anniversary of the Greek Genocide, Genocide Watch has produced a brief educational handout and commemorative logo that can be used to spread awareness and campaign for the recognition of the Greek Genocide. The Symbolism of the Logo: The ionic column represents the ancient historical legacy that Greeks left behind and was destroyed in Turkey. The gold flowers are called Helichrysum Stoechas or the "eternal flower" which is local to the Pontus region along the Black Sea. These flowers represent the growth and resilience of the Greek communities affected by the genocide The three groupings of flowers represent the three regions of the Ottoman Greeks (Pontus, Asia Minor, and Eastern Thrace) This project received invaluable expertise from our Alliance Against Genocide Member, the Greek Genocide Resource Center Also, please view our previous handout on the Armenian Genocide

By Nathaniel Hill From April 28th to May 1st, violent clashes along the border between Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan killed dozens of people. Initially starting in the Kyrgyz town of Kök-Tash, mobs of Tajiks and Kyrgyz began throwing stones, scuffling, and trading insults. Over the course of the week, the violence spread to a dozen villages along the border. Eventually Kyrgyz and Tajik security forces joined the fighting, armed with heavy weapons. Forty-one people were killed, with the majority being ethnic Kyrgyz. Approximately 40,000 people were evacuated or displaced from the border zone. Several sources reported that Tajik forces used mortars and machine guns against both Kyrgyz troops and civilians. Tajik troops used bulldozers and firebombs to destroy Kyrgyz homes, shops, and hospitals. A ceasefire was called on May 1st . Each side agreed to withdraw troops built up along the border. There have long been tensions between Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan over the demarcation of the border. During the Soviet Union , Communist Party officials created arbitrary and irregular borders that divided ethnic groups between several Soviet republics. Following the collapse of the Soviet Union, conflicts broke out as ethnic minorities found themselves cut off from their newly independent national homelands. Fierce competition over the limited water and agricultural resources in the rich Fergana Valley has long contributed to ethnic violence. The current round of violence began with an incident in April, when a group of Tajiks attempted to put up a security camera on a shared water intake station along the border. While the fighting has now stopped, tensions along the border remain high and the potential for violence has not abated. Genocide Watch considers the border area between Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan to be at Stage 6: Polarization and Stage 7: Preparation . Genocide Watch Recommends: 1. An independent border commission should be appointed to resolve border disputes left over from the breakup of the Soviet Union. Preferably, the commission would be appointed by a multinational organization such as the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), the Eurasian Union, or the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS). 2. A face-to-face meeting should be convened between Tajik President Emomali Rahmon and Kyrgz President Sadyr Japarov, preferably on neutral territory, to discuss de-escalation of violence, distribution of resources along the border, and other issues in dispute. Image Source :

By Nathaniel Hill Captives taken after the Herero rebellion were either killed or subjected to appalling brutality ( Image Source ) On May 28, 2021 Germany became the first colonial-era regime to recognize its destruction of colonial subjects as "genocide". From 1904 to 1908, Germany killed hundreds of the thousands of ethnic Herero and Nama in a genocidal campaign of extermination , imprisonment, and deportation. The descendants of the Herero and Nama have long attempted to gain reparations and recognition from the German government. Germany's recognition of the Herero and Nama Genocide comes with a financial aid package of $1.34 Billion paid to the Namibian government over thirty years. Herero and Nama descendants of the genocide survivors remain unsatisfied with the German apology calling it "hollow" because it refuses to pay reparations to the Herero and Nama. Questions over the size of the payment, as well the lack of consultation with local communities by the German authorities have caused outrage in Namibia. Furthermore, Germans in Namibia still control vast amounts of land and resources and still deny that a genocide ever took place. There is clearly more work to be done to gain proper and adequate reparations for the Herero and Nama people. Please read Genocide Watch's Namibia Country Report

By Nathaniel Hill Journalists stand next to a yellow police cordon near the residence of Haiti's President Jovenel Moise after he was shot dead by unidentified attackers, in Port-au-Prince, Haiti July 7, 2021 Image Source: Reuters Genocide Watch is issuing a Genocide Warning for Haiti. Early in the morning of July 7, an unidentified group of gunmen assassinated Haitian President Jovenel Moïse in his home. The assassination is a dramatic development in the ongoing political and economic crisis that has plagued Haiti this year. Large-scale protests and opposition rallies have taken place across the since February 2021. Haitians are protesting the large-scale corruption and authoritarianism of the Moïse presidency, with the state often violently repressing these acts of dissent. The recent assassination in Haiti also coincides with an increase in gang violence, a large-scale surge in COVID-19 cases, and an imminent hurricane season; all factors that could see the country spiral into further chaos. Genocide Watch Considers Haiti to be at Stage 6: Polarization and Stage 7: Preparation Read the Full Report Below: