#affaire de justice

[thebusylilbee]

what's even fucking crazier about the Mazan serial rapes case is that everybody is already so shocked by the basic facts of it (Dominique Pélicot drugs his wife for 10 years and gets her raped while unconscious by 73 men or more) that the medias literally often forget to mention that DNA testing suggest that the husband is actually a whole ass killer who killed and raped at least one woman in the 90's before getting married to Gisèle Pélicot

[genelvavirtualstudio-blog]

Affaire Bopda : La Famille Parle et Dénonce

Dans le sillage des récentes révélations choquantes sur les agissements présumés de Hervé Bopda, la famille Bopda Emmanuel a émis un communiqué afin de faire part de son point de vue face aux graves accusations qui secouent actuellement la sphère publique camerounaise. Dans un contexte où les réseaux sociaux ont servi de tribune aux témoignages accablants, ce communiqué vise à apporter une…

[someone-will-remember-us]

There is no collective noun for rapists but spend a week at the Pelicot trial and you wonder why. As the early morning queue of women who’ve come to support Gisèle Pelicot passes through security at the Palais de Justice, Avignon, you spy men with downturned faces scurrying across the lobby past the press. In court they sit on the left, clustered around a glass box containing more men, those in custody for the gravest crimes. Since there are 50 in total, the alleged rapists have been tried in batches and I’m just here for the final seven: Boris, Philippe, Nicolas, Nizair, Joseph, Christian, Charly.

Plus Dominique Pelicot himself, who invited them all into his marital bedroom, where he had his wife waiting, drugged and naked, and who joined in and filmed it all. Pelicot, 71, crumpled and fat now, but with a residual bulky power, sits sullenly alone with his guard in a separate glass box, protected from the other men who blame and detest him. Often after lunch he appears to doze off.

Such nondescript men. Grizzled, middle-aged (the mean is 47 years old), smart-casual in windcheaters or leather jackets and their best trainers, like minicab drivers waiting for fares. Ordinary men in many respects, not vagrants, junkies or career criminals. This week’s seven includes a fireman, an electrician and a journalist; several are fathers, two were keen weightlifters, one bred dogs. French trials helpfully begin with a personality profile formed from interviews with the men, their friends and colleagues. Poverty, domestic violence and mental breakdowns feature, but also that a man is “kind” or “gentle”, had a lovely childhood, adored his grandparents or is devoted to his mum.

Yet each one had sex with an unconscious woman, that is beyond doubt, thanks to Pelicot’s camera mounted on a tripod beside the bed, and by his own admission. “I am a rapist,” he has declared, “like the others in this room.”

From the Pelicot affair have come demands for reform to French rape law, for sexual violence to be treated more seriously, for an investigation into “chemical submission” — the coercive use of sedatives. But one question overshadows all others. How many men would have done the same? If Pelicot could recruit at least 70 willing participants (a number could not be identified) within a 25-mile radius of Mazan, the Provençal town where the couple retired, how many in the whole of France? As I walk through Avignon with Juliette Campion of radio station France Info, who bears the strain of reporting this case since September, she gestures to a bureau de tabac: “You think, ‘Would a guy in there have raped Gisèle? Or men in the boulangerie or those on the street?’ Women are looking at men differently: they’re asking, ‘Could you or you or you?’ ”

On the right of the court, behind her counsel of three serious, dark-haired young men, is Gisèle Pelicot with her female companion from victim support, leaning on the wall, as far from the men as the room allows, but facing her ex-husband. Her composure is remarkable. Although clearly tired and strained, she retains a quiet vivacity reflected in her clothes. Instead of shrinking away in black, she dresses each day as if meeting friends for drinks on a sunny terrace. A chic scarf, a faux fur bag, patent leather boots. Clothes that say, “I still have a life.” Every evening, when women line up to clap her out of court, she speaks to them warmly, neither reticent nor relishing the attention. Every day she walks through the cobbled streets past graffiti saying, “Gisèle, les femmes te remercient” (Gisèle, women thank you) to lunch at the same excellent brasserie, and people turn to gaze at her in awe.

The extraordinary woman who refused to be silenced

The humiliations of Gisèle Pelicot have a mythic quality. This is a woman who discovered the man she married aged 20, with whom she had three children and seven grandchildren, waited until she was deeply asleep before removing her pyjamas, dressing her in “sexy” underwear or writing on her buttocks, “I am a good submissive bitch,” then he let a stranger penetrate her inert body, filmed it, washed her intimately and replaced her pyjamas. This is a woman who thought she was going insane, had Alzheimer’s or a brain tumour, whose children thought she was dying, who stopped driving and going out alone, who slept all day and once woke puzzled why her hair was shorter. “But madame,” said her hairdresser, “you came in yesterday.” This is a woman who had mysterious gynaecological problems, including a swollen cervix (and still lives with four STDs), who thought her husband wonderful for accompanying her to medical tests, including an MRI.

This is a woman who, when her husband was arrested for “upskirting” in a Leclerc supermarket and police found the contents of his phone, discovered her whole 50-year marriage was a travesty, that he’d raped her in a service station car park, on Valentine’s Day and on her 66th birthday, and may have raped their daughter too. This is a woman who has listened to legal arguments about whether a man put his tongue inside or merely kissed her vagina, who heard another man say he’d only returned to rape her a second time because he couldn’t find anyone better, who sits in a courtroom while three giant TV screens show clips of her body being coldly humped by yet another “ordinary” guy.

Yet this is a woman who gathered up every scrap of her humiliation and with it constructed a mirror that she holds up defiantly to the court and to French society itself. “Shame must change sides,” she said, and in insisting the entire trial be conducted openly, that the worst men can do to women is witnessed by the whole world, she has done exactly that.

I ask many women I meet in Avignon how men in their lives regard the accused. They say they call them losers and freaks, that these are men on the margins, with no relation to themselves. But, along with the testimony I hear, the people I talk to believe this case raises many questions about French sexual mores. Whatever the decision later this month by five judges — there is no jury — Gisèle Pelicot will never be forgotten.

The court turns to Christian L, a fireman with a straggly castaway beard, who speaks from the glass box because after he was arrested, police found 4,000 child sex abuse and zoophilic images on his hard drive. We hear from his girlfriend, Sylvie, a small blonde in a grey hoodie, who says he’s a wonderful man, and is suspected of destroying evidence. Christian L recalls the victims he watched die in fires, the coffins of 11 colleagues he carried, the mental breakdowns that ensued. He was married but after his two daughters were born says he went off sex with his wife and turned to libertinisme. Strange, I think, that the French have coined this noble, philosophical concept, with its whiff of the barricades, to describe what we call swinging or dogging.

Like all the men, Christian met Pelicot through coco.fr — the murky, unmoderated site since closed down and now the focus of many major police investigations — on a forum called À son insu (without her knowledge). Christian L had already enjoyed “Sleeping Beauty” encounters with ten other couples. He spells out the rules: that you only dealt with the husband, sending him photos for approval, and during the sexual encounter he ran the show. Sometimes the wife woke up, other times not. How did he know, asked Gisèle’s lawyer, Stéphane Babonneau, that she consented?

“In a libertine encounter,” Christian L explained, “it is the husband’s responsibility to ensure consent.”

But how could you be sure?

“Are we expected to sign a contract?” Christian L spluttered.

“You could ask the woman,” Babonneau suggested.

How the case could change French law

Given the overwhelming video evidence, the defendants can only claim Pelicot deceived or drugged them, or they believed Gisèle was collaborating in a game. If this case were before a British court, rape would be decided by two tests: whether Gisèle had “capacity to consent” (tough to argue given Pelicot admits to drugging her) and whether the men had “reasonable belief” in her consent. Unlike most European countries, French rape law has no concept of consent. Rather, it is defined as penetration “by violence, constraint, threat or surprise”. (The prosecution case rests on a convoluted definition of surprise.)

But rather than demand consent be added to the law, French feminists are divided. Some agree with President Macron, who supports change; many others argue that consent would put the onus on the victim to prove her conduct was not an invitation. This seems an odd objection, especially as the whole purpose of the video evidence is to show no one could believe Gisèle capable of consent, given she was so lifeless one man asked Pelicot, “Is your wife dead?”

Alice Géraud is the author of Sambre, an investigation into how, due to the indifference and cruelty of police, a caretaker called Dino Scala in northern France managed to rape 54 women over a period of 30 years. “The Pelicot case with 50 defendants and one victim feels a strange inverse of Sambre.”

Géraud believes the Pelicot affair could provide the same impetus for change as a famous 1974 case of two Belgian tourists, Anne-Marie Tonglet and Aracelli Castellano, who, camping near Marseilles, were brutally raped by three local men. As was normal practice, the crime was downgraded from felony to misdemeanour on the basis the victims eventually stopped resisting. But the women, a lesbian couple, persisted and thanks to their feminist lawyer, Gisèle Halimi, it became the first rape case to be heard in the higher assizes court. Like Gisèle Pelicot, the women waived their anonymity. “We believe that it’s one thing for a man to rape,” said Halimi, “and another to know it’ll get around his village, his work, the papers.” Shame changed sides: the men were jailed and the French criminal code was rewritten defining rape as a serious offence.

For Géraud, the greatest current injustice is that whether a man has raped one women or 50, the maximum sentence is 20 years (here a serial rapist can be jailed for life). “This is law made by men,” she says, “with a grave lack of knowledge of rape culture.” She is scornful too about libertinisme as a universal excuse for male sexual exploitation. “Libertinisme was why Coco existed for so long,” she says. “It is the justification for prostitution, for the porn industry.”

Charly A is the youngest of all the defendants, just 22 when he first entered the Pelicot house. Small, bearded, now 30, we learn his childhood was chaotic, his father an alcoholic, his mother had many sexual partners; there are hints of abuse. “This is a family of secrets,” concludes the personality profiler. A psychiatrist adds he is immature, struggles to sustain relationships and instead consumes porn, “especially the Milf [Mother I’d like to f***] category with mature women”. In 2016, he made contact with Pelicot via Coco: “He said his wife would be lying there pretending to be asleep, he doesn’t tell me more.”

Over time Pelicot asks Charly if he knows anyone they could drug for sex and he proffers the only woman in his life — his own mother. Pelicot gives him pills (which Charly claims to have thrown away), shows him how to crush them, keeps pressing him to use them. “When can I come and we f*** your mother?” he asks in one video, but Charly keeps stalling, saying his brother is at home. Yet he returns to violate Gisèle, always with Pelicot, once with another man, a total of six times. “Did you feel like you were in a porn film?” asks Babonneau. Charly shakes his head.

Until this point, very late in the trial, the influence of internet pornography has barely been explored. The court only notes paedophiliac images, not “normal” usage. Yet Mathieu Lacambre, a psychiatrist who evaluates Charly A, remarks how porn sites not only push users to more extreme content but to enact porn fantasies in real life. “Until now Charly A was behind the screens,” he says. “Now [in Gisèle] he has an object served up on a platter a few miles from home. The sleeping princess Milf, voilà.”

A rented home in a quiet cul-de-sac

I drive out to Mazan, a lovely honey-stoned French village set in the vineyards below Mont Ventoux, where the Pelicots retired from Villiers-sur-Marne, a Paris commuter town where he was electrician and she was a manager at EDF. I imagine Gisèle browsing the little boutique, dropping into the beauty salon, sipping an aperitif outside the bistro. The home they rented for ten years is five minutes away in a quiet cul-de-sac of four houses behind tall cypress trees. It is lemon yellow with blue shutters, a pool, a very prominent alarm system, and new tenants. Given how many men knew her address, Gisèle fled four years ago for her own safety, with just a suitcase and her dog.

Today an immense cloud of migrating starlings swoops over the house like pixels in a photograph. This was where their grandchildren loved to visit in the summer, but also the centre of Dominique Pelicot’s porn operation. For what else was this grotesque man but a pornographic auteur?

We leave our car, just as Pelicot instructed the men, in the sports ground car park, by the bottle bank. I think of them texting their arrival, then creeping down the lane. (One man made his girlfriend wait in the car.) Pelicot would meet them at the door by the light of his phone, tell them to undress in the dark living room and warm their hands on a radiator. (They’d been instructed to be clean, not smell of cigarettes or wear cologne.) Then they were led into a bedroom with a TV, a chest of drawers, a bed with a naked Gisèle motionless on white sheets, and a mounted camera.

Whatever followed next was carefully orchestrated by Pelicot, a director urging on actors in stage whispers, since the objective was to do what they desired without waking Gisèle. Pelicot would tell them how and when to penetrate her, or hold his wife’s gaping mouth to facilitate oral sex. Given four Temesta (lorazepam), a powerful anti-anxiety drug he’d crushed into her wine or ice cream, his wife was like a patient on an operating table. Even so, if her arm gave an involuntary spasm,the men would scuttle from the room. A friend who has sat through many court videos says it was Pelicot ordering the humping men to go doucement — softly — that upset her, since she knew this was not out of tenderness for Gisèle.

All the while the camera rolled. Why did these men agree to have their crimes recorded? They say it was part of the deal, that Pelicot told them Gisèle was shy and liked to watch the sex later. But perhaps also because, in taking part, these men were promoted from porn consumers to creators. Filming was central to their fantasy. When Christian L finally climaxes he turns to give the camera a cheery thumbs-up.

For Pelicot, each film added to his oeuvre. Police discovered a carefully curated archive of 20,000 images and videos on hard drives and memory sticks showing 200 rapes. He gave each film a title like “Squirt on the ass”, “Cock in mouth” or “Jacques fingering”. This man, once caught by his daughter-in-law masturbating at his computer, was now a porn impresario.

The question at the centre of the case

Why did Pelicot do all this to a wife he professed to love, whom he called “a saint”? Was it to punish Gisèle for an affair early in their marriage (although he was serially unfaithful himself)? Or because when he’d asked her to join him in the libertinisme scene she’d refused — so he devised a way to make her. But Gisèle was not his first victim: Pelicot has admitted to the rape of an estate agent, using ether to drug her, in 1999, and will be tried for the rape/murder of another young estate agent, Sophie Narme, in 1991. The French police cold case bureau is investigating his possible links to many other unsolved crimes.

But as the “Without her knowledge” forum suggests, his was not a unique fantasy. The Pelicot case has illuminated the issue of “chemical submission”, not only drinks being spiked by strangers in bars, but drugs used to control partners within relationships. The French health service is noted for being blasé about prescribing heavy-duty medications, which is how Pelicot stockpiled his vast stash of Temesta.

Documentary-maker Linda Bendali has made a film for French TV about chemical submission, featuring seven cases, including a 13-year-old girl drugged by her father with medicine supposedly for her allergies, put in lingerie and raped over two years, and a 60-year-old woman drugged then raped at home by a man she was mentoring at work. “I’ve looked back at 30 years of press reports of rape,” says Bendali, “which includes dozens of women saying they woke up — mainly with men they know— unable to remember what happened.”

The Sleeping Beauty scenario, she says, is not merely a means for a man to get easy sexual access, but a way to enjoy absolute domination. “You are not even giving her the chance to consent,” says Bendali. “You can do anything you want to a drugged woman, for as long as you want. You can dress her how you want. These men want total power.” Pelicot is typical in filming his crimes: “Pictures are trophies. He was driven by a mix of desires for blackmail and voyeurism.”

Gisèle’s daughter, Caroline Darian, who was also drugged and photographed naked by her father, is heading a campaign on chemical submission, demanding police take samples of hair from rape victims, the only way sedation can be proved.

In court, I hear another psychiatrist tasked with assessing whether each of the final seven defendants has the profile of a sexual abuser. One by one, he exonerates the men, saying they are not dangerous or likely to reoffend, to the growing exasperation of Gisèle’s team. Then he reaches Charly A. “He doesn’t search [for victims] systematically,” says the psychiatrist. “He’s not a predator.” Finally, Babonneau explodes: “Six times with a sleeping woman and he’s not a sexual abuser?” The men do not identify as rapists because, like this psychiatrist, they define rape as frenzied sexual violence, not an opportunistic act performed to whispers in a private home. As one defendant put it, “It’s her husband, his house, his room, his bed, his wife.”

Women unite in the town of Mazan

Both in religious and political terms, Mazan is a conservative town: for 500 years it was part of a papal enclave and in the recent French election voted heavily for Marine Le Pen. Villagers regarded the Pelicot case with horror and sympathy which turned quickly to resentment when press named it l’affaire Mazan. Amid longstanding families who’ve known each other for generations, the Pelicots were outsiders who’d brought disgrace into a rural community. Tired of inquiries, the mayor, Louis Bonnet, 74, told the BBC, “It could have been far more serious. There were no kids involved. No women were killed.”

At the Lucky Horse Ranch outside Mazan, women victims of sexual violence receive equine therapy. I’m sceptical at first about how grooming and riding horses could help rape victims, but somehow these large, placid animals are calming and restorative. Here I meet Latika, 33, who at first was too timid to touch a Shetland pony, but now sits high on a saddle for our photograph.

Latika was separating from her husband, the father of her two children, but still sharing a house. He was violent, hitting her daughters, putting her in hospital with cuts and a broken rib. Two years after they’d last had sex, she woke to find him inside her. She believes the sweet tea he often gave her was laced with sedatives, but that night she hadn’t drunk it all. She realised he’d been drugging her for years — her mother recalls finding her deeply unconscious early in her relationship — and, worse, she was pregnant with a third child. She told the police, who addressed the domestic violence but ignored the rape. Her husband fled to Guadeloupe and she was left traumatised, fearful of leaving the house.

“I didn’t feel people really believed what had happened to me until Gisèle Pelicot spoke out,” says Latika, who has since made the police reopen her case. In October, as women across France holding white flowers protested in support of Gisèle, Latika headed the local march into Mazan and the next day Gisèle herself visited the ranch. “She said it is almost unbearable to return to this place where terrible things happened,” says Latika, “but she wanted to thank us. She told me, ‘I didn’t know the meaning of my life before this happened — but I do now.’ ”

Watching Gisèle take such sustenance from her supporters, you wonder how she will cope when the trial finally ends. She is writing a book and could, if she chose, become a global campaigner. “There is something particularly powerful,” says Linda Bendali, “about her being an older woman — she represents all our mothers. All generations identify with her.” But those close to Gisèle say that, at 72, she may just return to a quiet life of friends, grandchildren and her garden, in the secret location where she now lives.

But she is already an icon of courage for the women who come from across France and beyond just to watch the trial on a screen in an overspill room. Some want to witness history, a few enjoy the sensational evidence like tricoteuses at the guillotine, but many have risen at 5am, taking a day off work, to support a woman they deeply admire. Marion Spiteri and Amélie Planche, both 24 and law graduates, feel the case opened their eyes. “How can it be,” Spiteri says, “that so many men did this without her consent?” “It is terrifying,” Planche adds, “that a woman cannot even trust her own husband.” They tell me, astonishingly, that neither they nor their friends ever go to the toilet in a bar or club alone.

But then the nation of libertinisme lags behind in its attitude to violence against women. Until 2021, France did not even have an age of consent, effectively decriminalising even incestuous relations between children and adults, allowing several high-profile child abusers, including firemen who groomed a 13-year-old girl, to evade rape charges. Each time a prominent Frenchman is accused of rape — whether politician Dominique Strauss-Kahn or, currently, actor Gerard Dépardieu — famous French actresses leap to defend him. This is the nation that convicted child rapist Roman Polanski fled to from America, and is still fêted. The #MeToo movement was regarded by many as a wave of Anglosphere prudishness, contrary to the spirit of French seduction. So what can the Pelicot trial achieve?

I meet feminists from Les Amazones d’Avignon, the creators of graffiti across the city supporting Gisèle. (So as not to spoil the city walls, they write slogans on paper that can be removed.) Their latest reads “20 ans pour chacun” — 20 years for each one. I suggest a drink in a café nearby: “Not in there,” says one Amazone, “that’s where all the rapists go.” Blandine Deverlanges, 56, is part of the Coalition Féministe Loi Intégrale putting 130 proposals about sexual violence before the French parliament, including a ban on lawyers harassing victims in court. They are disgusted the defence asked Gisèle why she swam naked in her own swimming pool.

“This is a trial,” says Deverlanges, “of one extraordinary man, the monster Pelicot, and many ordinary men.” And as we talk I see a group of them emerge nervously from their favoured café and head back to the court. A collective noun for rapists? A violation, a banality, a shame.

(archive)

[stressfulsloth]

I've seen a couple of takes about Disco Elysium being copaganda going around recently, and beyond the fact that DE is relentlessly critical of the police force in general and makes explicit reference to the failures of the system that allow the officers in game to abuse their power, I also think it's important to note that there very literally is an in-world version of copaganda that the writers of the game use to parody that romanticised view of the brutality of policing. The RCM at their inception were structurally inspired by in-world copaganda- their culture, their "fashions, even weapon preferences, borrow heavily from classic Vespertine cop shows." Every investigation is it's own little drama, every officer imagining themselves to be the bad-ass hero of their own crime serial. Detectives name their cases like they're naming episodes of a TV series in a "robust but literary system"; a title that "draws inspiration from snoop fiction and Vespertine cop show staples". They give themselves nicknames to sound like cool, suave fictional officers- Ace, Dick Mullen, etc.- from the cool, suave world of copaganda.

The legend of the RCM's inception, the "point of contention" over its uncertain origins, is even an extention of that; the whole organisation is shrouded in this self-fictionalising mythos that allows for distance that in turn obfuscates much of its violence to the officers that participate in it. They get to convince themselves that they're not abusing their power; they're the hero of the story! The dichotomy of "good guy" taking out the "baddies," a manifestation of the libertarian fantasy of the "good guy with a gun" who does what it takes, just like in Annette's detective novels, and at the same time who rails against oversight bodies like Internal Affairs/'the rat squad' because due process slows down the immediate satisfaction of Swift Justice, despite Internal Affairs existing to protect the citizens from overreach on behalf of the police. "Wanton brutality" from police in their real world is a cold bitter reality but Dick Mullen was "made to crack skulls," "bend the rules and solve cases no one else can," and which version of that story is more comforting to the overworked, underfunded officers of the RCM?

The level of fantasy and detachment required for the cops to still see themselves as the good guys after everything that they do in the line of duty mimics The Pigs and her breakdown too; she parallels Harry so clearly. Both "did right by the kids" in the past, hoping for a better future- Marianne (The Pigs) by looking out for Titus and the Hardy boys when they were young, Harry in his role as a gym teacher. Both abandoned and left behind by the system that the RCM uphold- a brutal capitalist landscape with no safety nets. Both turning the source of their trauma into a costume, a performance, a shield, shaped by "radio waves and cop shows." The Pigs uses RCM items scavenged from the Esperance where they'd been thrown away, while Harry uses the Dick Mullen hat that Annette gives him but both are essentially in costume.

Harry identifies himself with the fictional detective as a kind of wish fulfilment; Dick Mullen is "wicked smart." He doesn't fuck up his cases and when he's sad it's not pathetic; it's effortlessly cool brooding and everyone sympathises. Everyone loves him. His violence- "skull crack[ing]"- is justified because he's a "good guy" enacting that violence against the victims of police brutality sorry "bad guys". He doesn't ever face repercussions; "Dick Mullen won't be sent to the clink for the sake of some legal niceties!" So if Harry is Dick Mullen then his failures, his breakdown, they're all just a part of being a "bad-ass, on-the-edge disco cop." He's not wrong, he's a hero! This idealised fictionalised idea of the police force, this "new, sadly better, reality" that both Harry and The Pigs cling to is "escapist stuff," "receed[ing] into a ludicrous fantasy world," so far removed from the brutal material reality that they're in.

My point is, idk. Disco Elysium is so far from being copaganda. It is a multi-million word long dissection of it, of the purpose of policing, of state sanctioned violence and its interaction with capital and the fallout experienced within the wider community as well as the trauma cycle created for individual officers. A dissection of how copaganda interacts with RCM culture and perception, and by extension how we interact with irl perceptions of police through that lens.

[withnofreetime]

HETALIA ☆ WORLD STARS (521)

Is there a problem/error? Please say so! And thank you for your support!

Spanish version ↓ and T/N.

T/N:

P.1.

"Cazzo", "f*ck!"

"Bastardo", "Bastard"

About Cost. (GDP; millions, aprox.)

Austria -> € 447 - $ 526 182

Netherlands -> € 941* - $ 1,092,748

Hungary -> € 188,443* - $ 203 829

Romania -> € 278,005* - $ 300,691

Bulgaria --> € 83,529 - $ 90,346

*not official, conversion ($ -> €)

P.2.

"Schengen Agreement" Overview, a kind of timeline.

"Conflict Bulgaria & Romania and Austria". Due to the increase in illegal inmigration and corruption in both countries, Austria had refused Bulgaria's entry many times.

"Schengen Area" because it was signed in Schengen, Luxembourg.

Another timeline! (2023)

Extract from Wikipedia: "On 8 December 2022 the Justice and Home Affairs Council voted to admit Croatia to the Schengen Area, but rejected Bulgaria and Romania. Austria and the Netherlands voted against the inclusion of Bulgaria and Romania, with Austria claiming that there had been a rapid increase in the number of migrants using the West Balkan route to enter the EU illegally. 20 On 30 December 2023 the EU agreed to include Bulgaria and Romania in the Schengen Area, with Austria no longer vetoing the enlargement of the area. Air and sea ports no longer conduct border checks from 31 March 2024, while the end of land border checks require further discussions."

"About Hungary & Bulgaria". If the information is correct, there was a "threat" from the Hungarian government to vote against Bulgaria's entry into the agreement if they didn't solve the Russian gas problem, yeah, taxes.

But they did it! Press realese, European Comission.

"Romanian Industry". Talks more about Poland and Romania's future struggles in the industry.

"Bulgaria, and 'rich kid' allegations" Probably talking about the Golden Age of Bulgaria, first Empire in the mid 19-century. Or the Second Golden Age. The Bizantine Empire and the Italian Kingdom had economic relationships with the first Bulgarian Empire.

P.3.

"Netherlands & Bulgaria". The Netherlands government was against Bulgaria and Romania's entry. And then not.

P.4.

"yправител" in Bulgarian. It might mean "general", "manager" or "administrator".

SPANISH VERSION

Italia habla de Bulgaria y Romania como si tuviera 80 años. Me saqué un 85% en mi examen de C2 de Español... no es una parodia por COMPLETO, pero tampoco lo tomen en serio.

¿Hay un problema y/o error? Por favor de comunicar, ¡y gracias por su apoyo!

[mezmer]

The straight woman is unsatisfied with straight studio porn. She wants to get off to something in which the actors actually emote and show passion beyond canned moans from the women and, at best, vacant grunts from the men. She turns to gay porn. She knows it's not "for her," but neither was the straight porn, and at least the actors look like they're enjoying themselves. And for a short while she is satiated by Sean Cody et al, but she runs into the same problems she had to begin with. She was not looking at sex but a simulacrum of sex, trapped in Plato's cave. Unsatisfied, she turned to vintage gay porn, harkening to a time when most gay bars still had darkrooms and reliably smelled of piss and Amyl Nitrite. Here was the real thing, in all its animalistic passion. But she still couldn't immerse herself in the fantasy. She wanted the media to engage with her own imagination and meet her half-way, rather than having it spoonfed to her onscreen. She turned to yaoi, with its elongated figures reminiscent of mannerist portraiture, then bara, including hardcore BDSM scenes. But the tactile sensations depicted in the pages didn't do justice to their real life counterparts. She turned deeper into her own imagination, this time reading erotica. No, not the poolside paperbacks sold at Barnes and Noble. The good shit. Why then, was she still not satisfied? She dug deeper, searching for the true meaning of eroticism. She studied the psychoanalysis of Freud, the cultural criticism of Susan Sontag, the feminist poetry of Audre Lorde. She took vacation time and flew to Europe, starting at the caves of Lascaux to explore the human urge to create, then traversed the Camino de Santiago on foot, along the way meeting a 56 year old carpenter from Burgos named Andrés, with whom she had an explosive affair. They both knew it couldn't last, which made them cherish each other's touch all the more. Upon flying home, she gave up. If her search for true eroticism never bore fruit this whole time, why would it now? It would take years before she stumbled upon the answer by pure happenstance: Progressive metal

[city-of-ladies]

Though Qutlugh Turkan (c. 1208/1213–1283) began her life as a slave, she rose to become a ruler in her own right, ushering in a golden age for her lands.

A resourceful wife

Qutlugh Turkan was likely born in Transoxania between 1208 and 1213. She was enslaved as a child, purchased by a merchant from Isfahan, and given an excellent education. In 1235, she married Qutb al-Din Muhammad, the nephew of Buraq Hajib, the founder of the ruling dynasty of Kerman (in present-day Iran), a local power that emerged after the Mongol invasions.

After Buraq’s death, the Mongol Great Khan Ögedei granted Kerman to Buraq’s son, prompting Turkan and her husband to move to Transoxania. During this period, her intelligence and resourcefulness proved vital to her husband’s survival, earning him the of the local nobility.

In 1252, Qutb al-Din was installed as the ruler of Kerman. When he died five years later, it was time for Turkan to step into power.

Queen of a golden age

Turkan assumed control of Kerman in 1257, even though her husband’s male heirs were alive. The transition appears to have been smooth, with little opposition to a woman ascending the throne. She quickly established her authority, dispatching gifts to secure recognition of her rule.

Initially, Hulegu Khan granted her authority only over civil affairs, but Turkan’s persistence won her full control, including military oversight. She ruled independently for 26 years, a period celebrated as a golden age for the region of Kerman. The khutbah (Friday sermon) was proclaimed in her name in mosques, and her name appeared on coins.

Her reign brought stability and economic prosperity. Turkan was known for her equitable administration of justice and her benevolence. During times of famine, she opened the granaries to feed her people. She also initiated major building projects, including a madrasa, a hospital, a mosque, and fortified borders with new fortresses.

Coin minted during Turkan's reign

Challenges and Deposition

Turkan forged alliances with the Mongols, even marrying her daughter Padishah Khatun to Abaqa Khan, the ruler of Iran starting in 1265. She also sent troops led by her stepson (or possibly her biological son) Hijaj Sultan to support Abaqa.

However, Hijaj turned against her, publicly mocking her with this verse:

Young are your destiny and star, but old is your fortune; the one that is old should make way for the young.

Turkan sought Abaqa’s support and was reaffirmed as the ruler of Kerman. Hijaj’s attempt to depose her failed, forcing him to flee to Delhi, where he died a decade later.

Turkan’s fortunes changed with Abaqa’s death. His successor, Tegüder Ahmad, granted Kerman to her stepson, Suyurghatmish, ending her rule in 1282. Her efforts to reclaim the throne were unsuccessful and she died shortly afterward in a city in northern Iran.

Turkan’s daughter, Padishah Khatun later reclaimed the throne and ruled Kerman in her turn.

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Further reading 

De Nicola Bruno, Women in Mongol Iran: The Khatuns 1206-1335

Mernissi Fatima, The Forgotten queens of Islam

“QOTLOḠ TARKĀN ḴĀTUN”, Encyclopedia Iranica

[apricitystudies]

what i read in dec. 2023:

(previous editions) bold = favourite

class, race, gender, & sexuality

a good prospect

damages (usa)

the moral panic against uk drill is deeply misguided

i survived a lot of edwards and now i'm team bella

death on a dairy farm (usa)

the fence (canada)

politics & current affairs

'weapons of mass migration': how states exploit the failure of migration policies

president's war against 'fake news' raises alarms in south korea

in the shadow of the holocaust

justice from below

where are they? in remembrance of victims of indonesia's enforced disappearance

culture & essays

raising the dead

one swedish zoo, seven escaped chimpanzees

the cult next door

what kind of future does de-extinction promise?

the battle over dyslexia

palestine

palestinian men are not 'terrorists in the making'

israel: starvation used as weapon of war in gaza (human rights watch)

atrocities present, past, and future

israel working to expel civilian population of gaza (un ohchr)

inhumane treatment and enforced disappearance of palestinian detainees from gaza (amnesty international)

[decayedgloria]

Madame Neuvillette Masterlist

The young and vivacious Madame Neuvillette, who shied away from Fontainian society for far too long, enters the world of scandalous affairs and open secrets as she tries to mediate her brother's failing marriage. Only, she finds herself in the midst of perhaps the biggest scandal high society has ever had the pleasure of seeing- with none other than the Duke of Meropide himself.

Pairing: Wriothesley x fem!reader, Neuvillette x fem!reader

Tags: mature and suggestive themes, anna karenina au, infidelity, toxic relationships, established relationships, age difference, tags will be added as the fic is updated

Author's note: as mentioned, it is an anna karenina inspired story. Meaning there will be time period-accurate violence and actions (smoking, some misogyny, etc.) Set in Teyvat, just without the visions and its the 1800s. Mostly follows Anna's storyline, not really Konstantin's. I can't promise frequent updates so bear with me. Everything is listed is subject to change, and things will be added as the story progresses: both tags and characters.

Cast of Characters

Reader, the protagonist of the story married to Neuvillette. Younger than him and quite charismatic, yet impulsive.

Neuvillette, the chief justice of Fontaine and a busy, yet loving family man. Is well-respected for his impartiality.

Wriothesley, the dashing Duke of Meropide who has just returned from his station in Chenyu Vale. Marchioness Clorinde's cousin and is courting Navia.

Ajax, a baron and the reader's brother whose marriage is falling apart because of his infidelity. Married to Navia's sister.

Navia, a young aristocrat who is promised to Wriothesley. Reader's sister-in-law, both are quite close to each other.

Clorinde, Marchioness de Champion. Cousins with Wriothesley, and knows him better than anyone else.

Sigewinne, reader and Neuvillette's teenage daughter. Is spoiled rotten by both parents, though mostly by her mother.

Chapters

❥Part One: Decadent Collision

Taglist: feel free to ask! @wriosmilk

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Lyn Julius

The burning of a Christmas tree by gunmen in the Syrian city of Hama is a sinister portent of what minorities might expect under the evolving situation in the country.

The dominant group in charge, Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, has sent out messages reassuring religious and ethnic groups that they will be protected. It blamed “foreign fighters” for the tree burning, but can HTS be trusted? Its leader, Abu Mohammad al-Julani, has jettisoned his nom de guerre and his Kalashnikov rifle, preferring to be known by his real name of Ahmed al-Sharaa. Projecting his new image of moderation and respectability, he has donned a suit to receive visiting diplomats. The United States has recently scrapped a $10 million bounty on his head.

Is it being too hasty?  HTS is an Islamist group with roots in Al-Qaeda and has been designated as a foreign terrorist organization by the United States, United Kingdom, United Nations and European Union.

A BBC reporter asked al-Julani if Syria would become another Afghanistan for women, and he said there was no reason to ban women’s education. He did not specify if they would be segregated. When asked if he would ban alcohol, however, al-Julani hedged, saying it would not be up to him but to a committee of legal advisers. He was not asked about his jihadi past.

To understand what the future might lay in store for minorities, look no further than the treatment of Christians in Idlib province, which slipped into HTS’s control about 10 years ago. Properties were confiscated and religious rituals restricted, although there was more freedom in recent times, one Christian told the BBC.

The system has been plagued by corruption, nepotism and arbitrary rule and is policed by militias who are only answerable to themselves.

According to a report by the Atlantic Council published in 2016, the judicial system in Idlib “is akin to jungle law, in which the powerful use it to impose their rule on the others. The military factions use the judiciary to encroach on civilian affairs. Traditional Islamic concepts like sharia and ijtihad (freedom for judges to make new rulings not based on precedence) are exploited to eliminate armed groups’ enemies and reinforce the control of militants and their associates.”

Judgment in a case depends on whether you can influence the judge. “The law has turned into a weapon to settle scores, imposing the rule of military factions, and undermine civil institutions,” said the article. “The situation under Bashar al-Assad’s reign was not much better, the only difference is that extremist groups rely, at least theoretically, on Islam and sharia law to justify their arbitrary rule.”

So, what might happen to the minorities now? The Alawites, the ethnic group to which the Assad family belonged, are the most vulnerable to revenge attacks.

The Kurds are already in HTS’s sights, as their aspirations to self-determination are diametrically opposed to those of HTS’s Turkish patron.

Syria’s Christian community has dwindled from 11% to 2% of the population in the last 15 years. They could find themselves as subjugated dhimmis under sharia law.

Indeed, their fate could mirror that of the Jewish minority, whose tragic story has barely been told—until now.

A Jewish population of 30,000 in 1948 has declined to just three people. A new report by Justice for Jews from Arab Countries charts the extinction of this millennial-old Jewish community, which suffered decades of human-rights abuses, torture and dispossession. It puts a figure on their material losses at $10 billion in today’s prices. If taken together with the losses of Jews in nine other Arab countries, the total could run to hundreds of billions of dollars.

Not only have the Jews lost their property, they have lost their roots and their history. The region is the poorer for having lost its Jews.

The Jews’ plight might seem marginal in the bigger picture, given that 500,000 Syrians have died in the country’s brutal civil war. Now that Assad’s Syria has been revealed as a slaughterhouse, one could argue that minority rights are a luxury that only democracies can afford. But state abuse of its minorities did, and can still, degenerate into the abuse of everybody’s rights. The treatment of minorities is the litmus test of the health of a society.

It is too late to save the Jews, but the Christmas tree burning is a wake-up call. The global community must not just stand by: It should keep a close watch on the treatment of minorities, safeguard the Christians’ right to practice their religion and hold Syria’s new leaders to account for the slightest deviation.

[mapsontheweb]

Italy from 1796 to 1805

Cartes 1-4 & 6 : « Atlas de la révolution française », Beaurepaire & Marzagalli, Autrement, 2016

Carte 5 : « Atlas de l’empire napoléonien », Chappey & Gainot, Autrement, 2e éd., 2015

by cartesdhistoire

The incursion of Bonaparte's army into Italy in the spring of 1796 was primarily a diversion to relieve pressure on the Rhine front. However, its success quickly opened up new possibilities: French support and the activism of local patriots led to the establishment of sister republics. Over three years (1796-1799), known as the Triennio, the political landscape and institutions of the peninsula underwent significant changes. This period, marked by reforms and democratic achievements, as well as the involvement of individuals previously excluded from public affairs, is crucial for understanding how the Triennio influenced the attitudes of both elites and the general populace during and after the Napoleonic era.

However, the sister republics collapsed in the spring of 1799 in the face of the successes of the Austro-Russian armies of the Second Coalition and the armed uprisings of peasants incited by the clergy and angered by French abuses. Naples surrendered in June 1799, and the repression there was severe.

The political landscape of the peninsula was once again reshaped by France following the Second Italian Campaign, which began in 1800. The Cisalpine Republic, reinstated after the Battle of Marengo and expanded during the Peace of Lunéville, gave way to the Italian Republic in 1802, then became a kingdom in 1805. The kingdom's territory expanded to include Veneto and Istria (1805), the Marche region (1808), and South Tyrol (1810). Thanks to the Vice-President of the Italian Republic, Francesco Melzi d'Eril, the political efforts during these years resulted in the establishment of a modern state and significant reforms in administration, justice, and the military.

The Napoleonic experience helped to politically educate the Italian elites, providing them with a shared institutional and legal framework, as well as standardized administrative practices, which made the idea of unity feasible.

[rosemary-rothlorein]

Victor Hugo: not relevant but there is an urgent need for a close-up shot of Enjolras.

Text was copied and pasted from wikisource.

3.4.1, introduction paragraph

Woe to the love-affair which should have risked itself beside him! If any grisette of the Place Cambrai or the Rue Saint-Jean-de-Beauvais, seeing that face of a youth escaped from college, that page's mien, those long, golden lashes, those blue eyes, that hair billowing in the wind, those rosy cheeks, those fresh lips, those exquisite teeth, had conceived an appetite for that complete aurora, and had tried her beauty on Enjolras…

Poor Enj, walks on the street and gets harassed by random passers-by.

Also Victor Hugo, next paragraph: now let’s talk about Combeferre, “He was less lofty, but broader. That’s all. Thank you.”

Enjolras, the believer, disdained this sceptic; and, a sober man himself, scorned this drunkard. He accorded him a little lofty pity. Grantaire was an unaccepted Pylades. Always harshly treated by Enjolras, roughly repulsed, rejected yet ever returning to the charge, he said of Enjolras: "What fine marble!"

Grantaire, are you sure you are there for Enjolras’s faith and (chaste, healthy, firm, upright, hard, candid) nature NOT FOR HIS FACE???

3.4.5, Combeferre’s être-libre big show

Enjolras, whose blue eye was not fixed on anyone, and who seemed to be gazing at space, replied, without glancing at Marius:

Thanks, Victor, for reminding us of something you said four chapters ago.

4.12.3, basically Grantaire’s love confession

Enjolras, who was standing on the crest of the barricade, gun in hand, raised his beautiful, austere face. Enjolras, as the reader knows, had something of the Spartan and of the Puritan in his composition.

Maybe the reader also knows Enjolras has a beautiful and austere face.

4.12.7, Javert’s identity is discovered.

"Spy," said the handsome Enjolras, "we are judges and not assassins."

Javert: …Why?

4.12.8, Le Cabuc’s execution

Enjolras, pale, with bare neck and dishevelled hair, and his woman's face, had about him at that moment something of the antique Themis…

Victor Hugo: I know one minute ago you were not doing anything intense, merely talking to Javert, but now I need you to cosplay Themis, so please get rid of your cravat and dishevel your (beautiful, golden, shining) hair.

Enjolras: …okay.

His dilated nostrils, his downcast eyes, gave to his implacable Greek profile that expression of wrath and that expression of Chastity which, as the ancient world viewed the matter, befit Justice.

Victor Hugo: Killing in the name of justice can easily get us into endless and heated ethical debates, and the issue is further complicated by the very situation, given it is a revolution, where a judicial system has not really been established. Let’s not get into deep water but make our life easier: this is divine justice.

Le Cabuc attempted to resist, but he seemed to have been seized by a superhuman hand.

Le Cabuc: I am armed, and I am evil and impetuous enough to murder someone without a second thought. Am I not supposed to fight this schoolboy?

Victor Hugo: No. You are supposed to be shocked by his beauty. And chastity.

Le Cabuc: Is that something I can tell by LOOKING AT HIM?

Enjolras ceased. His virgin lips closed; and he remained for some time standing on the spot where he had shed blood, in marble immobility.

Marble x2.

Jean Prouvaire and Combeferre pressed each other's hands silently, and, leaning against each other in an angle of the barricade, they watched with an admiration in which there was some compassion, that grave young man, executioner and priest, composed of light, like crystal, and also of rock.

5.1.3

Enjolras reappeared. He returned from his sombre eagle flight into outer darkness. He listened for a moment to all this joy with folded arms, and one hand on his mouth. Then, fresh and rosy in the growing whiteness of the dawn, he said:

…He literally says hey guys, we are going to die now.

Victor Hugo: Yeah I know. But light technician, light on Enjolras please!

5.1.5 barricade speech.

All at once he threw back his head, his blond locks fell back like those of an angel on the sombre quadriga made of stars, they were like the mane of a startled lion in the flaming of a halo, and Enjolras cried…

How can Victor Hugo forget to highlight his revolutionary gold boy’s beauty?

Enjolras paused rather than became silent; his lips continued to move silently, as though he were talking to himself, which caused them all to gaze attentively at him, in the endeavor to hear more. There was no applause; but they whispered together for a long time. Speech being a breath, the rustling of intelligences resembles the rustling of leaves.

No virgin lip this time. Good thing that Victor is learning self-restraint (but not for long, apparently).

5.1.8 the death of sergeant of artillery

And a tear trickled slowly down Enjolras' marble cheek.

Marble x3.

Victor you are using Grantaire’s vocabulary.

5.1.23 the martyrdom of Enjolras

The audacity of a fine death always affects men. As soon as Enjolras folded his arms and accepted his end, the din of strife ceased in the room, and this chaos suddenly stilled into a sort of sepulchral solemnity. The menacing majesty of Enjolras disarmed and motionless, appeared to oppress this tumult, and this young man, haughty, bloody, and charming, who alone had not a wound, who was as indifferent as an invulnerable being, seemed, by the authority of his tranquil glance, to constrain this sinister rabble to kill him respectfully. His beauty, at that moment augmented by his pride, was resplendent, and he was fresh and rosy after the fearful four and twenty hours which had just elapsed, as though he could no more be fatigued than wounded.

(The most obvious evidence that this guy is divine. Human biology DOES NOT work in this way.)

It was of him, possibly, that a witness spoke afterwards, before the council of war: "There was an insurgent whom I heard called Apollo."

Were you at the barricade for the revolution or for something (someone) else???

A National Guardsman who had taken aim at Enjolras, lowered his gun, saying: "It seems to me that I am about to shoot a flower."

Le Cabuc symptom: brain stops functioning properly at the sight of Enjolras’s beauty.

Noise does not rouse a drunken man; silence awakens him. The fall of everything around him only augmented Grantaire's prostration; the crumbling of all things was his lullaby. The sort of halt which the tumult underwent in the presence of Enjolras was a shock to this heavy slumber. It had the effect of a carriage going at full speed, which suddenly comes to a dead stop. The persons dozing within it wake up.

Now we have music fading into a suffocating silence, light focuses on Enjolras, twelve guns arranged in a way according to the rules of one-point perspective. Your turn Grantaire!

[liketwoswansinbalance]

Dear Rafal:

As some spirit swans shapeshifter angel possession thingy do you create souls and ship them off to the real world?

I have a case where I know someone very well and he just seems to be very similar to you. (cough cough)

Also if Rhian was a girl (or some genderbend AU) would you let me be her gf?

Rafal: [peers down at you from the sky through slitted eyes] I'm not a "thingy" as you claim. Nor am I possessed, and if you'd like to see a man possessed, turn no further than downwards, at my aging mirror image. He's bound to die eventually and I doubt he'll be joining me. [He grins.]

As for your query, the answer is no. Not currently. When I did involve myself in... low, earthly affairs, every mortal soul I had a part in creating was apparently deficient in some way or another. Always, it was: [said in a mocking tone] this one's imbued with an excess of "spite" or "hubris," that one is just plagued with "instability," and a third was impacted by a so-called "disregard for its own species" and a "malcontent temperament"—why should I care?

Amid those general issues, the few souls of mine that had been placed in the Woods were reported to be "cursed," what we call our failed projects, those who can't descend to the Woods and live "ordinary lives." They had to be reworked by my colleagues, who discovered that many of those restless mortals held unconscious, fully-formed vendettas against pirates, Seers, and blond men. Don't ask.

All of my creations have been scrapped thus far, including a potential distant relative I devised for my Stymphs: the razor-beaked, flesh-eating sparrow. It was marvelous, and I'm sure my living students would've found it just lovely. Unfortunately, Heaven didn't approve of my vision for a new and greater Woods, which is pointless, seeing as the Blue Forest is already populated with killer, puffball rabbits. My Woods would've been built upon cautionary tales, to whittle away at the simpletons who believe that as long as they're Good, they "deserve the world" as they're constantly told. The Evers were always entitled as they always received the benefit of the doubt automatically, a privilege my Nevers will never live to get for themselves. It's why they must take what the world deprives them of, which I can understand to an extent. [resentment creeps into his voice.] After all, I nearly got what I wanted, only for it to slip through my fingers. So, instead, my Nevers are trapped with a daft leader and just languish under a losing streak, as far as I can tell.

Besides, my title isn't "guardian angel." Heaven wanted to assign me to a post as a patron of travelers and physicians, but I declined, and took up record-keeping duties since, for the time being, I don't wish to see anyone. I'm not content with menial tasks, but there haven't been any other offerings worth my time, aside from staging a coup, whether it be a coup d'état or coup de grâce for a certain someone, well... I haven't decided yet.

However, I do hope that my brother's still around when the Second Coming rolls around. I'd be all too satisfied to see the dire look on his face as he trembles when I tap him on the shoulder. Then, I'd drag him to a punishment equal to his worldly crimes in whichever circle of Hell happens to be his final destination, all while the rest of the apocalypse roars around us... Something to look forward to, I suppose. The other angels tell me not to be so sure, or that I won't want justice by that point. But however long it takes, I'll be here. Waiting for my moment in that dying sun.

[Rafal likes to think he's moved past earthly proceedings, but in reality, he's still probably bitter, begrudging, and unforgiving (so far), and would prefer to think of himself as beyond trifles like mortal lives that aren't his. He probably just needs time to settle and accept his death. Eventually, he'll reform further though, and grow into his Goodness.]

Rafal: Who is this case of yours? [You don't have to elaborate if you don't want to.]

Do whatever you'd like with Rhian. I'm not his protector any longer, and he’s more than capable of "defending" himself. Just let me take his soul once he dies, and we'll have a deal. [He extends a hand pulsing with sorcery to you to shake.] A contractually-sealed deal.

[stardustndreamsofsilver]

Inferum

Part Two

Jake x OC (f)

Warnings: potentially scary themes, talk of murder and desecration of human remains

Find All Parts Here

Arrête! C’est ici l’empire de la mort.

Pip led me down corridor after corridor. As we walked, I couldn’t help but notice how alone we were. We’d passed fellow visitors on our way to both the theater and Gens Beaux, but now there had been no one for what felt like hours. It didn’t help that Pip had remained almost completely silent except for the occasional, “Watch your step.” Something felt off in the silence, almost as they knew my true intentions. But I tried my best to shake it off.

I was lost in my thoughts when they said, “Just a bit further to the druids, mon cher.”

Startled by the sudden break in the silence, my heart leapt in my throat before I replied, “Perfect.”

Glancing down at my watch, I saw it was nearly ten at night. We were early. But perhaps the trek to the true destination would kill that time. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the strap of my bag, adjusting it on my now sore shoulder, and continued following Pip. It had been perhaps ten more minutes when I glanced forward and saw a figure up ahead. It looked like it was stepping out of the wall. Pip didn’t seem to pay it any mind so I tried to do the same. But as we got closer, the more the feeling of dread took over my body. The figure was perhaps two yards ahead when I noticed it was made of stone.

“What is that?” I asked, pointing at the statue.

“Oh him. He is Le Passeur. Would you like to hear his story?”

“Sure, why not?” I reply as I stare at the life-like figure.

“Le Passeur is a victim of Louis-Étienne Héricart de Thury. It is said that he and Louis’ wife, Maire Christiene I believe was her name, were having a… Ah, affaire d’amour. A little tryst. Louis found out about it and brought the poor man here. He killed him, of course. Then he cast his body in plaster and cement and mounted him to the wall so that he would always search for his way out.” Pip says gesturing to the statue.

“Are you serious?” I whisper, all color draining from my face.

“Oui, bien sûr, je suis très sérieux! Why would I lie about something like that?” They looked offended that I would even question them. “It’s brilliant, no? His punishment. To wander the catacombs for eternity,” He says, gazing admiringly at the dead man’s cast.

“Don’t you think it’s sad though? To be damned to the catacombs over an affair?” I ask.

“No, he got what he deserved,” Pip shrugs. “Now come, the druids await.” Disturbed by their nonchalance, I say nothing and just nod my head. With that, Pip turns on their heels and continues on down the tunnel. 

When we approach the room of the druids, I can see light coming from the entryway. As we enter, I notice a group of people standing in front of the mural admiring it. I’d hoped we’d be alone, but there was no harm as long as the others didn’t follow us. I adjust my headlamp and walk closer to the mural. It is absolutely beautiful. The picture of women with long flowing hair in delicate chemises dancing under the moon with crowns of lilies atop their heads. Something about the mural brings a sense of peace over me, yet it is the kind of peace that is teetering between a lasting one and one that will crumpled.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it," I hear an unfamiliar American voice say.

I turn and look toward its owner when I see that it’s the man from Gens Beaux. Feeling heat rise to my cheeks, I turn back to the mural and say, “Yes, the pictures online don’t do it any justice.”

“They really don’t,” He whispers, as he stares admiring the piece. 

I sigh, taking in one last look before I dip my head at the stranger and find my way back to Pip. “Pip,” I start, “There’s somewhere else I’d like you to take me tonight. I’ll pay you whatever you want.”

Pip furrows their brow. “You wanted to see the druids, no? We are here.” Then with understanding, they take a step back raising their hands and beginning to shake their head. “Non, mon cher. I do not think that is wise.”

“I need to see them, Pip. If you will not take me, then tell me the way to them from here,” I plead.

With a heavy sigh, Pip puts their hands in their pockets and says, “Tell me why you must go.”

My breath catches and my heart pounds. “It’s personal.”

Narrowing their eyes, they say, “It is personal. You ask me to take you to your death but cannot share why?”

“You wouldn’t be taking me to my death. I can promise you that. But I cannot tell you why I have to see them,” I say firmly.

“Non,” They reply, lips in a thin line and eyes stern. They’re about to say something else when a woman comes up behind them and whispers in their ear. Turning, they whisper to the woman and they seem to be arguing. Pip is becoming frustrated when I hear them say, “Très bien, qu’il en soit ainsi!” as they throw up their hands in defeat.

“We will take you madame. You and them,” The woman says to me while pointing to the others.

This makes my stomach sink. I’d never planned for this. So few know that I hadn’t thought there would be anyone else.

“They know about Les Gaules?” I ask, not quite believing.

“Oui, ils le savent,” She replies.

“Ils sont au courant de tout?” I question.

She tilts her head and shrugs, “Est-ce important?”

Shaking my head, I glance over to the others. They’re laughing and joking amongst themselves. They shouldn’t be coming, but I can’t help but feel that there is nothing I can say to dissuade them. Looking back at the woman I nod and say, “Okay.”

She nods and claps her hands. “Everyone! Gather here, s’il vous plaît!” The others walk over and wait for her to continue. “We will be traveling to Les Gaules together. Pip and Addey have agreed to this. But, you must do everything we say. If we tell you to be quiet and not breathe, you are silent and hold your breath, oui?” We look amongst ourselves and nod in agreement. “Magnifique! Come, we go.”

“So you’ll be joining us to see the ritual then?” The longhaired stranger asks.

“I suppose so.” I sigh.

“Nice to have you with us,” He grins before sticking out his hand. “I’m Jake.” 

I take his hand and can’t help but smile as I shake it. “Addey.”

As he lets go of my hand, we both move to follow Pip and the other guide. Nearly bumping into one another, Jake takes a step back and gestures for me to go first. I smile and do so. As I walk ahead, I can’t help but feel a pang of guilt. There’s no way he, or the rest of them know what we’re walking into. If they did, they wouldn’t be so at ease.

I try to shake the feeling of guilt and dread, and continue on through the halls of the dead.

taglist: @peaceloveunitygvf, @edgingthedarkness, @jakekiszkashangnail08, @writingcold, @vanfleeter, @gretavanfleetposts, @katuschka, @thewritingbeforesunrise, @wrldabomination, @lipstickitty, @takenbythemadness

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Access Now condemns the suspension of X in Brazil

On August 30, 2024, Minister Alexandre de Moraes of Brazil’s Supreme Court ordered the suspension of X, following a months-long legal confrontation. The conflict began in April when the court mandated the suspension of several X accounts for allegedly spreading disinformation and attacking democracy. X’s failure to comply with this order led to the court imposing fines and threatening to imprison company representatives in the country. In response to these measures, the company decided not to pay the fines and instead closed their offices in the country which eventually resulted in the suspension of the entire platform in Brazil. On September 2, First Chamber Justices unanimously endorsed Moraes’ ruling. We note that the text of the proceedings remain sealed and more information is needed for a comprehensive analysis.

Access Now opposes the suspension of X in Brazil and is concerned by the growing trend of blocking of entire online platforms and applications as a response to systemic non-compliance. Such extreme actions are rarely proportionate as they violate people’s fundamental human rights and negatively impact the most marginalized communities instead of ensuring meaningful accountability from the platforms and mitigating their negative impact on human rights.

The recent block on X—formerly Twitter —in Brazil is a clear example of this trend, where approximately 22 million users are caught in the crossfire of platforms and judicial decisions. Moreover, the platform has had a big influence on political affairs and information sharing in Brazil. Blocking a platform does not solve the underlying issues of disinformation and hate speech. Instead, it limits access to information and stifles free expression, broadly, and in particular here, will have major implications for democracy as Brazil prepares to hold local elections in October.

International human rights law considers blocking online platforms a last resort measure if backed by significant procedural safeguards. They include providing advance notification of the blocking measures to affected parties and conducting an impact assessment of the measures to avoid their arbitrary or excessive effects. In addition, a blocking order has to be issued by an independent and impartial judicial body, and the legal basis for ordering platforms’ blocking must, among other things, be clear and predictable. 

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[mlleclaudine]

Plainte d’Adèle Haenel : cinq ans requis contre Christophe Ruggia, pour « remettre le monde à l’endroit »

by Sophie Boutboul - Mediapart, December 10, 2024

Photo from France Dernières Nouvelles,France Actualités

[NB: My translation of the coverage of the first day of the trial can be found here.]

On the second day of the director's trial, the prosecutor called for him to be sentenced to five years' imprisonment, including two years for sexual assault of a minor, so that justice can be a tool in the «fight against silence» when confronting sexual violence against children.

«Shut the hell up!»  Tense and exhausted, Adèle Haenel finally exploded with anger in the courtroom on Tuesday December 10, the second day of director Christophe Ruggia's trial.  Since Monday, the director has been on trial for sexual assault of a minor, committed between 2001 and 2004, with the aggravating circumstance of having been a person in authority over her.  Adèle Haenel was between 12 and 14 years old.

In the middle of the proceedings, the actress rose and briefly left the courtroom of the Paris Criminal Court, followed by her lawyers.  The woman who had chosen to withdraw from the cinema could not bear to listen to the man against whom she had brought suit as he rambled in his defense.  At the stand, the director said he had suggested that Adèle Haenel change her last name «to protect her», saying «Adèle H reminded me of Truffaut.»  Adèle H  is the title of a film by Truffaut, released in 1975.  A film about a woman consumed by a passionate love affair.

Shortly prior to this, Adèle Haenel had explained at the stand: «Who was there to tell this child: “It's not your fault”?  Everyone says I should feel sorry for Mr. Ruggia’s plight, but there are consequences for sexually abusing children.»

At the end of a nine-hour hearing, prosecutor Camille Poch called for five years' imprisonment, including three years’ probation and a restraining order on contacting the actress, as well as an obligation to compensate her.  She specified that the two years' imprisonment could be convertible to house arrest under electronic surveillance.

She also requested a ten-year ban on working with minors, registration with the Fichier judiciaire automatisé des auteurs d'infractions sexuelles (FIJAIS) [Automated criminal record of sex offenders] and a provisional sentence.

Two witnesses on the stand

The day began with the testimony of two witnesses: director Mona Achache, who was in a relationship with Christophe Ruggia for a year around 2010-2011, and his sister Véronique Ruggia.

The former gave precise, detailed testimony.  As she had already done during the investigation, the filmmaker told the court about Ruggia's confidences during their relationship: once, Adèle Haenel was said to have had «her head»on his lap and his hand had «moved up to her breasts».  He then told her that he’d withdrawn his hand when Adèle looked at him with «fright».  «I think it's a laudable little confession that conceals a much more disturbing truth», said Achache.  A testimony that Ruggia disputes.

The director claims that in 2019, when the accusations against Ruggia were revealed in Mediapart, her own daughter told her that he «was very controlling, with a rather heavy-handed way» with her, when she was 11 years old and they were all living under the same roof.

Mona Achache also stated that while «he talked a lot about her talent as an actress, he was also fascinated by her body».  In her own relationship with him, she spoke of «a superior attitude», the fact that he had «a kind of hold» over her as a director who was «more powerful» than she was at the time.

Asked by Anouck Michelin, Adèle Haenel's lawyer along with Yann Le Bras, what had attracted Ruggia to her, she replied: «Obviously my youth [Ed. note: she is twenty-six years younger than he is], an inner fracture, my vulnerability.  And a kind of intelligence, to say something positive.»  She explained that when she became aware of the situation Christophe Ruggia was describing to her with a child, she «kicked him out» after being confronted with the disaster of a new «abuse» in her life.

Véronique Ruggia was also heard as a witness.  The director's sister was Adèle Haenel’s coach on Les Diables, a feature film in which she was also first assistant director.  Several years after the shoot, the actress allegedly told her that he had «tried to grope her», but also that he had «declared his love for her and tried to kiss her».  She told the court that Adèle Haenel had said: «It's horrible, he's old», it's «disgusting».

Véronique Ruggia explained that she was «shattered» when she heard this statement.  She recounted how she confronted her brother a few years later, and that he had «burst into tears».  According to her, he told her: «I've lost Adèle», and told her about an «unfortunate action while he was crying» and a scenario about which she would have been «offended».

The defendant's sister confided her uneasiness: «I see Christophe's downfall, banished from his profession, from Paris, and he blames me for having supported Adèle on the feminist principle of saying that if there are acts of control or power imbalance, we must denounce them.»

Anouck Michelin's closing arguments

Prior to the closing arguments, in a vast courtroom still packed with Adèle Haenel's family and friends and film personalities such as actresses Aïssa Maïga and Noémie Merlant who had come to support her, Anouck Michelin began her statement.

«It's often said that speech is silver while silence is gold.  In this chamber, silence is rarely golden; rather, it's more like death. [...]  To unburden this word, you have to face up to the shame you feel for not having said something sooner», began Ms. Michelin, already bringing tears to her client's face.

She targets the man «who rewrites history» in the 119 pages of his account «Adèle Killed Me», found in his computer and written after our investigation was published in 2019: «M. Ruggia tells us that it's the child who is completely to blame, that she's too sensual, too wild, too dangerous for his sofa.»

Adèle Haenel's lawyer stressed that, while she would only remember «filth» about the director, she described Adèle Haenel as a rough diamond whom Ruggia would have made a «puppet».  «The problem is, a diamond is tough, it’s strong», she said, eliciting a smile from Adèle Haenel, her face closed until then.

The lawyer extended the diamond metaphor to talk about a gemological term for the crack in a diamond called a flaw: «This is what you will always be, Mr. Ruggia, a flaw in a rough diamond.»

Anouck Michelin's last words are not for the director or the actress, but for «little Adele»: «You need to listen to me, you're 12 years old, it wasn't up to you to say no, to not get on the sofa...  None of this is your fault [...].  I know you were alone, but you're not anymore, and you know, Adèle, when you grow up, you'll be a great actress, and it’ll all be thanks to yourself and your talent.  Tonight, Adèle, go home proud because you were able to protect yourself, to free yourself from his stranglehold, his influence; tonight, free yourself for good.»

Her colleague Yann Le Bras followed up with an argument for his client, who «brings the humility of her memory to say: “I'm only denouncing what I'm absolutely sure of���».

He also spoke of a director who introduced a «permissive campaign» with regard to his actress: «He's neither the first nor unfortunately the last.»  Mr. Le Bras enumerated at least 120 Saturdays over three and a half years, excluding holidays.  At a rate of three or four hours per encounter, he arrives at «450 hours» in which «this man and this young child were behind closed doors»: «Fingers, Orangina and wandering hands on the breasts, on the stomach, in the panties of a little girl.»

«The only #MeToo that doesn't have a #MeToo»

For Ruggia's defense, led by lawyers Fanny Colin and Orly Rezlan, the Mediapart articles have been the target of numerous comments since they are, in their words, «a complementary indictment against Christophe Ruggia»

Colin said she understood the «anger and suffering» but that «history» had been «rewritten», since «all the witnesses either took part in [Mediapart's] investigation, or read it».  She spoke of a «contamination effect» among the witnesses.

To justify Christophe Ruggia's words about his love for Adèle Haenel, she talks about his «focus» in his letters, which she says are not love letters, but those «from an admirer to the actress», as he concludes one with: «I miss your friendship terribly.»

She insisted that in her expertise, there was no «abnormal attraction of the pedophilic kind».  And that his association on pornographic sites with the words «nice teen», «college teen with his professor», would be «pop-ups» (windows that are opened on the web page): as the police concluded, there was «no [history of] pedophilic searches», she said.

She also pointed out that her client would be «the only #MeToo that doesn't have a #MeToo» compared to the accusations against others that «are accruing». Since 2019, she assured that «not a single person has come forward to say that Mr. Ruggia has so much as looked the wrong way at a child or a young girl».

Colin's fear: «That the judiciary will have to dispense justice with a gun to its head.»  «By virtue of the principle that the accused must have the benefit of the doubt», she asked the court to acquit, as this principle was in her opinion «not a patriarchal principle designed to protect aggressors, but to protect the innocent».

Five years to «set the world straight»

For her part, prosecutor Camille Poch made a specific indictment for a conviction, to «set the world straight, to remind us of the forbidden, and who was the child, who was the adult».

She pointed out that Adèle Haenel had always been «clear and consistent» in her statements, whether in the Mediapart article or before the police, the examining magistrate or during confrontation.  «Adèle Haenel told us the story of a gradual influence, but just because the hold is subtle and insidious doesn't mean it's any less serious», asserted the prosecutor.

With the actress facing her, the representative of the public prosecutor's office spoke of the «collective abdication of adults, Adèle Haenel's terrible isolation during the time of the events, when Christophe Ruggia became and remained the only adult in her life».

She listed the many witnesses and confidants, including her first boyfriend, then her ex-girlfriend, the director Céline Sciamma, her own brother, and Mona Achache, who was interviewed that very morning.  She also recalled the «feeling of unease» described by Christel Baras, the casting director for the film Les Diables, when she ran into Adèle Haenel on two occasions at the director's home.

The prosecutor also described Ruggia's «modus operandi»: «their respective positions, the changes of location, the attitudes, the panting, the hand in the collar of the T-shirt, on the chest».  She recalled the «trigger» for the actress to speak out: fearing for new victims with the launch of [Ruggia’s] project in 2019 involving teenagers.

Camille Poch also pointed out that the acts denounced «will stop only through the efforts» of the actress.  She underlined the use of a «lexical field of love» that leaves little doubt: «My heart exploded once again in my chest», «Let her know that I loved her».

In asking the court to enter a guilty verdict, the prosecutor also relied on computer expertise, which she said confirms Christophe Ruggia's «sexualized view» of Adèle Haenel, notably through his Google search for «adele haenel hot», dating from 2011, and his words in one of his texts - «Adèle at 12 years was overflowing with sensuality».

Sexual violence, an «inoculated death»

Sexual violence, said the prosecutor, quoting Gisèle Halimi, is like «an inoculated death», which is reflected here in the «massive psychological repercussions» for Adèle Haenel: the «disruption of the construction of identity markers, a depressive episode after the fact, her desire to die, everything that makes up post-traumatic syndrome».

The representative of the public prosecutor's office criticized Ruggia's «improbable line of defense», which tends to emphasize «revenge on the actress’ part».  She also highlighted Ruggia's «inability» to recognize the «inappropriate nature of these encounters between an adult man and a pre-teen girl twenty-four years his junior».

«Regarding the absence of consent, coercion is characterized», asserted the prosecutor, by Adèle Haenel's age, the age difference [between them], the total absence of acknowledgement of Adèle Haenel's sexuality, the director's hierarchical advantage and the «obvious domination» in relation to an actress, the occurrence of psychological manipulation, the description of her state of «stupefaction» and her attitude of physical refusal.

In asking the court to convict him, she drew on the actress' «particular vulnerability» in facing an adult who «doesn't acknowledge the facts»: «Sentencing means putting guilt back in the right place.»  Camille Poch was also keen to respond to Adèle Haenel's phrase - «Justice ignores us, we ignore justice» - to send a message to her and all other victims seeking this conviction: “Justice must also be the tool of this other enemy which is silence, justice must be there to condemn the act, it must remain as leverage for all those who have no one else.»

[Please don’t repost this anywhere, in part or in whole.  Feel free to reblog, or at least cite your source and provide a link back here.  Asking permission would be nice in an ideal world, but I’m a realist – I know far too well how easy it is to appropriate stuff on Tumblr.  I would be the first to admit that my translations are not perfect – there are some words and phrases that simply do not drop neatly into an equivalent in English, and I constantly fix typos and make changes or corrections in older posts – but they do take a lot of work and time.  Thanks for understanding. - C.]

h/t to @thexfridax for the article! Thank you, Ros!