Defence`s Feeds

A number of Western intelligence services have reached the same conclusion over the last few weeks. While Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney, in office since last March, has opted for a more open policy towards China than his predecessor, Justin [...]

The SAMP/T NG air defence system promised to Ukraine on Friday during the meeting between Volodymyr Zelensky and Emmanuel Macron [...]

Israeli investigations group Shibumi Strategy is believed to be owed a six-figure sum from its former, now defunct client Builder.ai, [...]

Foreign powers are having to come up with increasingly imaginative ways of gaining influence within the INALCO school of Oriental [...]

French National Police (DGPN) Director General Louis Laugier has appointed [...]

US President Donald Trump, who has been pressing Japan and [...]

Le président tchadien, Mahamat Idriss Déby, a ordonné à l’armée de « riposter à compter de cette nuit à toute attaque ». Une roquette propulsée fin février depuis le Soudan avait déjà tué fin février 15 militaires et 8 civils dans la ville frontalière.

The Escalation Trap works like this: pic.twitter.com/AeJwoYzkEO

— Robert A. Pape (@ProfessorPape) March 15, 2026

Most wars escalate beyond what leaders intend.

I study this dynamic — the Escalation Trap.

The Iran war is now showing the same strategic patterns seen in Vietnam and Kosovo.

I write short strategic briefings explaining what to watch next.

Subscribe:
https://t.co/JdhoWKJ5P0 pic.twitter.com/kOijVQFtpI

— Robert A. Pape (@ProfessorPape) March 13, 2026 I don't see the connection he's making with past wars BUT I DO agree with his premise. So what is the "escalation trap" here? I believe its the same as we found in Iraq and Afghanistan. We can win the battles, but controlling the populations while fighting a counter insurgency is the main risk I think.
We've been incredibly successful up to this point in the war.  The Iranian Navy is done.  The Army is on its back foot and the elite forces are hollowed out.
Uprisings by the people are increasing and local security forces are in a bind.
My worry is that once they setup a replacement govt the call will go out to provide "stabilization" forces.
The Israelis can't participate.
The Europeans won't participate.
That leaves the US (we broke it, we own it) and in essence UN peacekeepers (mercenaries) from undeveloped or developing countries to be paid a price to provide troops.
This means years on the ground while every terrorist group in the region attempts to flood in to kill Americans trying to rebuild the country.  It means holders on from the previous regime trying to reclaim power.
It means terror attacks on our home soil as muslims are further radicalized.
It won't be a typical escalation trap but the sad old tale of how America gets its shit pushed in despite having the most powerful military in the world, even after we literally destroyed the enemy.
Hope I'm wrong.
But one thing is true.
We can take out any country on this planet.  We just can't rebuild after we tear it up.

« Cette Coupe d’Afrique des nations est bousillée par des décisions complètement incohérentes », fustige Claude Le Roy, ancien sélectionneur français de plusieurs équipes africaines.

Washington avait parfaitement assumé, début décembre, la nature transactionnelle de l’accord en le liant à une « contrepartie en matière de collaboration dans le secteur minier ».

L’ancien entraîneur français revient, dans un entretien au « Monde », sur la décision du jury d’appel de la Confédération africaine de football, qui a retiré, mardi 17 mars, au Sénégal son titre de vainqueur, pour l’attribuer au Maroc.

La mise sous scellés des bureaux de SOS Disparus confirme la volonté du régime d’effacer la mémoire de la guerre civile des années 1990 ayant opposé l’armée et les maquis islamistes.

On 12 March in the night sky over Dubai, several Shahed-136 kamikaze drones were intercepted before reaching their targets. According [...]

DRAFT REPORT on the proposal for a regulation of the European Parliament and of the Council on establishing a framework of measures to facilitate the transport of military equipment, goods and personnel across the Union
Committee on Security and Defence
Committee on Transport and Tourism
Michał Szczerba, Roberts Zīle

Source : © European Union, 2026 - EP

Length of video : 75'

Disclaimer : The interpretation of debates serves to facilitate communication and does not constitute an authentic record of proceedings. Only the original speech or the revised written translation is authentic.
Source : © European Union, 2026 - EP

Length of video : 75'

Disclaimer : The interpretation of debates serves to facilitate communication and does not constitute an authentic record of proceedings. Only the original speech or the revised written translation is authentic.
Source : © European Union, 2026 - EP

By CIVICUS
Mar 18 2026 (IPS)

 
CIVICUS discusses China’s tech-enabled repression with Fergus Ryan, a Senior Analyst at the Australian Strategic Policy Institute (ASPI), where he specialises in how the Chinese Communist Party shapes global information environments through censorship, propaganda and platform governance. His research includes a major study on China’s AI ecosystem and its human rights impacts, as well as investigations into China’s use of foreign influencers.

Fergus Ryan

China’s authoritarian government is deploying AI at scale to censor, control and monitor its population. As these tools grow more sophisticated and are exported abroad, the implications for civic space extend far beyond China’s borders.

What AI systems is China developing?

Based on our research, China is rapidly developing a multi-layered AI ecosystem designed to expand state control.

Tech giants are building multimodal large language models (LLMs) such as Alibaba’s Qwen and Baidu’s Ernie Bot, which censor and reshape descriptions of politically sensitive images. Hardware companies including Dahua, Hikvision and SenseTime supply the camera networks that feed into these systems.

The state is building what amounts to an AI-driven criminal justice pipeline. This includes City Brain operations centres such as Shanghai’s Pudong district, which process massive surveillance data, as well as the 206 System, developed by iFlyTek, which analyses evidence and recommends criminal sentences. Inside prisons, AI monitors inmates’ facial expressions and tracks their emotions.

AI-enabled satellite surveillance, such as the Xinjiang Jiaotong-01, enables autonomous real-time tracking over politically sensitive regions. Additionally, AI-enabled fishing platforms such as Sea Eagle expand economic extraction in the exclusive economic zones of countries including Mauritania and Vanuatu, displacing artisanal fishing communities.

How does China use AI for censorship and policing?

China relies on a hybrid model of censorship that fuses the speed of AI with human political judgement. The government requires companies to self-censor, creating a commercial market for AI moderation tools. Tech giants such as Baidu and Tencent have industrialised this process: systems automatically scan images, text and videos to detect content deemed to be risky in real time, while human reviewers handle nuanced or coded speech.

In policing, City Brains ingest data from millions of cameras, drones and Internet of Things sensors and use AI to identify suspects, track vehicles and predict unrest before it happens. In Xinjiang, the Integrated Joint Operations Platform aggregates data from cameras, phone scanners and informants to generate risk scores for individuals, enabling pre-emptive detention based on behavioural patterns rather than specific crimes.

On platforms such as Douyin, the state does not just delete content; it algorithmically suppresses dissent while amplifying ‘positive energy’. AI links surveillance data directly to narrative control and police action.

What are the human rights impacts?

These AI systems erode the rights to freedom of expression, privacy and a fair trial.

Historically, online censorship meant deleting a post. Today, generative AI engages in ‘informational gaslighting’. When ASPI researchers showed an Alibaba LLM a photograph of a protest against human rights violations in Xinjiang, the AI described it as ‘individuals in a public setting holding signs with incorrect statements’ based on ‘prejudice and lies’. The technology subtly engineers reality, preventing users accessing objective historical truths.

AI also undermines the right to a fair trial. In courts that lack judicial independence, AI systems that recommend sentences or predict recidivism act as a black box that defence lawyers cannot scrutinise.

Pervasive surveillance changes behaviour even when not actively used, so its chilling effect may be as significant as direct deployment. Knowing their conversations may be monitored, people self-censor online and in private messaging. Emotion recognition in prisons takes this further: people can theoretically be flagged for their internal states of mind. It’s not just actions that are punished, but also thoughts.

Which groups are most affected?

While AI-enabled surveillance affects all people, ethnic minorities such as Koreans, Mongolians, Tibetans and Uyghurs are disproportionately targeted.

Mainstream LLMs are trained primarily in Mandarin, leaving little commercial incentive to develop AI for minority languages. The Chinese state, however, views those languages as a security vulnerability. State-funded institutions, including the National Key Laboratory at Minzu University, are building LLMs in minority languages, not for cultural preservation, but to power public-opinion control and prevention platforms. These scan text, audio and video in Tibetan and Uyghur to detect cultural advocacy, dissent or religious activity.

Feminist activists, human rights lawyers — particularly since the 709 crackdown in 2015 — labour activists and religious minorities including Falun Gong practitioners face disproportionate targeting. Chinese models consistently adopt state-aligned narratives about such groups, labelling Falun Gong a cult and avoiding human rights framing. Since 2020, Hong Kongers have also been subject to National Security Law surveillance using many of the same tools deployed on the mainland, a reminder that this infrastructure can be rapidly extended.

How can activists in China protect themselves?

Protecting oneself inside China is increasingly difficult. AI leaves very few blind spots. But the system is not perfectly omniscient.

Activists have historically relied on coded speech, euphemisms and satire, the classic example being the use of ‘Winnie the Pooh’ to refer to President Xi Jinping. Because AI struggles with cultural nuance and evolving memes, new linguistic workarounds can temporarily bypass automated filters. But this is a relentless game of Whac-a-Mole: Chinese tech companies employ thousands of human content reviewers whose only job is to catch new memes and feed them back into the AI.

The most practical steps are to use VPNs to access blocked platforms, secure communications apps such as Signal and separate devices for sensitive work. None of these are foolproof. VPN use is technically illegal and increasingly detected and Signal can only be accessed via VPN. It helps to keep a minimal digital footprint and communicate face-to-face on sensitive matters. For activists in Xinjiang, however, surveillance is so pervasive that individual precautions offer little protection. Strong international networks and rigorous documentation practices are essential.

Is China exporting these technologies?

China is the world’s largest exporter of AI-powered surveillance technology, marketing these systems globally, particularly to the global south.

The Chinese state is purposefully expanding its minority-language public-opinion monitoring software throughout Belt and Road Initiative countries, effectively extending its censorship apparatus to monitor Tibetan and Uyghur diaspora communities abroad. Chinese companies including Dahua, Hikvision, Huawei and ZTE have deployed surveillance and ‘safe city’ systems across over 100 countries, with Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates among the most significant recipients. Critically, these companies operate under China’s 2017 National Intelligence Law, which requires cooperation with state intelligence, meaning data flowing through these systems could be accessible to Beijing as well as to purchasing governments.

China is also exporting its governance model through the open-source release of its LLMs, embedding Chinese censorship norms into foundational infrastructure used by developers worldwide.

What should the international community do?

The international community must recognise that countering this requires regulatory pushback.

First, democratic states should set minimum transparency standards for public procurement. This means refusing to purchase AI models that conceal political or historical censorship and mandating that providers publish a ‘moderation log’ with refusal reason codes so users know when content is restricted for political reasons.

Second, states should enact ‘safe-harbour laws’ to protect civil society organisations, journalists and researchers who audit AI models for hidden censorship. Currently, doing so can breach corporate terms of service.

Third, strict export controls should block the transfer of repression-enabling technologies to authoritarian regimes, while companies providing public-opinion management services should be excluded from democratic markets. Existing targeted sanctions on companies such as Dahua and Hikvision for their role in Xinjiang should be enforced more rigorously.

Finally, the international community must recognise that Chinese surveillance extends beyond China’s borders. Spyware targeting Tibetan and Uyghur activists in exile is well-documented, as is pressure on family members remaining in China. Rigorous documentation by international civil society remains essential for building the evidentiary record for future accountability.

CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent.

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SEE ALSO
Technology: innovation without accountability CIVICUS | 2026 State of Civil Society Report
The silencing of Hong Kong CIVICUS Lens 25.Jun.2025
The long reach of authoritarianism CIVICUS Lens 20.Mar.2024

 

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Muslim History Month poster- artist Siddhesh Gautam

By Mariya Salim
DELHI, India, Mar 18 2026 (IPS)

In public discourse today, Muslims often appear as subjects of debate rather than authors of their own histories. Discussions about Muslim societies tend to revolve around geopolitics, security or conflict, leaving little space for the cultural, artistic and intellectual traditions that have shaped Muslim communities across centuries.

Reclaiming these narratives is therefore about reclaiming narrative authority. As a Muslim woman, I have often seen how Muslim voices are sidelined even when conversations centre on our own communities and pasts. It was within this context that I started Muslim History Month, together with my friend and colleague Ashwini KP, currently UN Special Rapporteur on Racism, in 2020, choosing to mark it during the month of Ramadan. Hosted on www.zariya.online, the initiative emerged from a simple conviction: communities must have the space to document and narrate their own histories.

Mariya Salim

Muslim History Month also draws inspiration from earlier community-led initiatives such as Black History Month and Dalit History Month. These movements have long shown how marginalized communities can reclaim pasts and their present, that have been ignored or distorted.

They remind us that history is not only about remembering the past but also about challenging exclusion and reshaping how societies understand themselves. Muslim History Month builds on this legacy by creating a platform where Muslims, and others who are allies, themselves reflect on the diversity, complexity and richness of their historical and cultural experiences.

What began as a modest collaborative project has since developed into a global platform bringing together writers, scholars, artists and activists to explore overlooked dimensions of Muslim histories. Contributors have written from Egypt, the United States, Palestine, Nepal and Russia, among others, representing a range of communities including Pasmanda, Tsakhurs, Roma and Uyghur Muslims. This year alone there are contributors from over 6 countries, from Lebanon and Palestine to India, Egypt and Indonesia.

The urgency of documenting these histories is reflected in the commitment of the contributors themselves. Rima Barakat, an academic in Islamic Art History from the Lebanese American University (LAU), wrote her contribution this year from Beirut. Explaining why she chose to participate in our endeavour despite living amid ongoing conflict, she observed:

“War always incites me to act culturally and to contribute amidst political turmoil. Historically, during World War I and World War II, artists and writers produced prolifically and contributed to sustaining a cultural economy. That is what I do today and how survival is measured by cultural and artistic endurance.”

Mihrab at the Jami Masjid, 17th century, Bijapur, India. Photo- Author Rajarshi Sengupta

Her words capture something fundamental about the role of culture in difficult times. Artistic expression is often treated as secondary to more immediate political realities. Yet history repeatedly shows that culture can become one of the most powerful ways communities endure, remember and rebuild.

The first edition of Muslim History Month brought together writers from different parts of the world to document overlooked aspects of Muslim communities. Contributors wrote about subjects ranging from Sheedi Muslims in Pakistan to what Ramadan/Ramzaan means. The second edition shifted the focus toward Muslim women from across the world who are no longer with us, many of whose contributions have faded from historical memory, from architect Zaha Hadid to Indian Spy Noor Inayat Khan. By revisiting their lives and work, the edition sought to address the erasures that often shape how Muslim women’s life and experiences are recorded.

The third edition, launched this year, turns its attention to Muslim art and architecture. Rather than limiting the discussion to monumental structures or gallery-based art alone, the edition explores a wider spectrum of creative practices. Art and architecture here include performance traditions, Calligraphy and mosque architecture, craft practices like Rogan Art, cultural rituals like wearing Amulets and everyday acts of creativity through which communities’ express faith, identity and belonging.

One of the contributions by Kawther Alkholy Ramadan in Canada for instance reflects on the aftermath of the Afzaal family murders in London, Ontario. In 2021, the Afzaal family was deliberately targeted and killed in an act of anti-Muslim violence that deeply affected the local community. Rather than focusing solely on the violence of the attack, Ramadan’s piece examines how Muslim women responded through creative and cultural expression.

Stories such as these challenge conventional assumptions about what counts as art. They show how creativity often emerges most powerfully in moments of crisis, when communities search for ways to process trauma and reaffirm their presence.

Another contribution from Indonesia by Adzka Haniina Albarri, for instance explores the performative art known as Shalawat Musawa. Shalawat refers to devotional invocations offered by Muslims in honour of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) The article examines how Shalawat Musawa has become a space where discussions around gender equality can be articulated. By encouraging women’s participation in a devotional practice historically dominated by men, performers are using art to engage with evolving debates about gender and social justice.

Across the edition, similar stories emerge from different parts of the world. Some pieces engage with contemporary artists, including an interview with world renowned Tunisian calligrapher Karim Jabbari, articles by Palestinian jewellery designer Mai Zarkawi and Egyptian academic Balsam Abdul Rahman Saleh. Others explore artistic traditions shaped by migration, diaspora and local cultural histories.

Muslim History Month III highlights how artistic expression remains embedded in everyday life. From neighbourhood cultural initiatives, architectural marvels, discussions on the Bihari Script Quran in Dallas Museum, to devotional performances, these practices reveal how creativity continues to shape the social and spiritual landscapes of Muslim communities.

They also illustrate the diversity within Muslim cultural production. Muslim societies are far from monolithic, and neither are their artistic traditions.

At a time when public discourse frequently reduces Muslims to political headlines or security narratives, these stories offer an important counterpoint. They remind us that Muslim histories are also histories of creativity, scholarship, craftsperson-ship and cultural exchange.

Documenting these histories is itself an act of preservation. History, and for that matter the present that remains unwritten, are easily forgotten or misrepresented. When communities claim authority to narrate their own pasts and present, they challenge the structures that have historically excluded them from broader cultural narratives. Therefore, Muslim History Month, then, is not only about looking back. It is also about shaping how Muslim histories will be understood in the future.

As Rima Barakat’s reflection from Beirut reminds us, even in times marked by war and uncertainty, cultural production persists. For many communities, it is precisely through artistic endurance that survival itself is measured.

Beyond the stereotypes and headlines that dominate public discourse lies a far richer narrative, one shaped by art, architecture, memory and the collective imagination of communities determined to tell their own stories.

Mariya Salim is co-founder of Zariya. She is a Human Rights activist and an international SGBV expert based in Delhi India.
https://zariya.online/category/muslim-history-month-iii/

IPS UN Bureau

 

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