#her family had to take to get stuff into the two islamic dictator countries

[terrasu]

I know my dad's side of the family left (fled?) tsarist russia, and no one talks about specifically why (antisemitism likely), but like how am I supposed to wrap my head around my maternal grandmother/and later my mom

-surviving the great depression

-surviving the dust bowl

-surviving LA VIOLENCIA from possibly the mid forties onward to the Columbian Internal Armed Conflict's start (the latter of which my mom has faint childhood memories of)

-Gaddafi (family left 74)

-Sudharto

[antoine-roquentin]

Denmark’s center-left Social Democrats came in first in the country’s June 5 parliamentary elections—the third Nordic country where voters recently backed a left-leaning party in a Europe otherwise marked by social democracy’s decline.

Wednesday’s outcome broke with the past two decades of Danish politics. Social Democrats leader Mette Frederiksen, 41, is set to become the country’s youngest-ever prime minister and the second woman to hold the job. Her coalition’s success—91 of the parliament’s 179 seats—upended a political landscape long dominated by the right. And on the heels of the European Parliament elections, in which populist, xenophobic parties saw important gains in France, Hungary, Italy, and Poland, the far-right Danish People’s Party saw its votes cut by more than half, after an unprecedented score in 2015.

But this week’s vote says less about the far right’s demise than about its steady creep into the mainstream. In something of a paradox, the center left returned to the scene only by lurching to the right. The Social Democrats, faced with waning support in the past two decades, have parroted the Danish People’s Party on immigration, backing hard-line policies they characterize as necessary to save the country’s prized welfare state.

Social-democratic parties across Europe have opted for that strategy, but in Denmark the dynamic is particularly pronounced. “While other social-democratic parties have adopted tougher immigration laws in times of ‘crisis’ and used anti-immigration and Islamophobic language, no party has so openly ran on a nativist and welfare-chauvinist agenda as the Danish Social Democrats,” Cas Mudde, a political scientist at the University of Georgia who specializes on populism, said by e-mail.

Take, for example, the so-called “ghetto package,” a series of policies aimed at improving integration and reducing crime in low-income areas that the state categorizes as “ghettos” because, among other criteria, more than half of their residents are of “non-Western” background. The package, introduced by the Danish People’s Party but backed by the Social Democrats, included measures ethnic minorities consider discriminatory: One law doubles punishments for crimes committed in “ghettos”; another requires “ghetto children” from age 1 to 6, the age when public education is required for the general population, to attend mandatory courses in Danish values and traditions, as well as language courses. Families that refuse to comply risk being stripped of government benefits.

The “ghetto package” is among the slew of policies targeting immigrants—particularly Muslims—that Denmark has embraced in the past few years, often with the Social Democrats’ support. These include a 2016 law that allows authorities to seize cash and valuables from asylum-seekers ostensibly to help the state finance their benefits, or a 2018 ban on the burqa—the full-face veil worn by only about 200 Muslim women nationwide. A law making handshakes a mandatory requirement for citizenship followed, clearly targeting Muslims who refuse to shake hands with the opposite sex. Plans are underway to isolate foreigners who have criminal records and served their sentences—asylum-seekers among them—on a far-off island, currently home to a center for researching highly communicable animal diseases. In 2005, the government required UN resettlement to be based on “integration potential,” and in 2016 it withdrew from the UN resettlement program entirely, with the Social Democrats’ support. 

“The Social Democrats have made it very clear: They realize they’ve lost elections since the late 1990s by being outflanked by the right on immigration,” Rune Stubager, a political scientist at Aarhus University, told me. “They knew they’d have to change their position on the issue to win.” 

The Social Democrats’ rightward shift has earned it the moniker “Danish People’s Party lite” among some Danes, disillusioned with what they see as the party’s betrayal of its progressive ideals. “There’s no question: They saw that, without anti-Islam as a central part of their platform, they have no chance of success,” Naveed Baig, an imam and the vice-chair of the Islamic-Christian Study Center in Copenhagen, told me, noting that Islam and immigration have become synonymous in current political debates. The climate has become so toxic, he said, that some Muslim families have considered leaving Denmark altogether.

Natasha Al-Hariri, a lawyer and minority-rights advocate, agreed. “It’s disturbing to see Frederiksen in the prime-minister spot,” she said. “She’ll adopt whatever position gets the most votes, even if that means aligning with the far right. When is enough enough?”

The Social Democrats say they’ll stick to their new line on immigration, which they describe as critical to maintaining Denmark’s welfare state, one of the most robust in Europe. “We need to have enough money and enough room in our country, to take care of our citizens,” Nanna Grave Poulsen, a party chairwoman, told me. “All of our immigration policies need to be put in the context of the welfare issue.”

But the number of migrants and asylum-seekers Denmark has admitted has actually declined in recent years, and its overall acceptance rate has been far below the EU average. The country’s economy is strong, and research indicates that strains to the welfare state stem from an aging population, not migrants, refugees, or Danes of “non-Western background.”

The mainstreaming of far-right views—and anti-immigrant rhetoric’s ability to capture the national attention—is evident in the emergence of two new parties to the right of the Danish People’s Party: the Hard Line and the New Right, the latter of which managed to enter parliament, just exceeding the 2 percent threshold. In the months leading up to the elections, the media fixated on Hard Line leader Rasmus Paludan, a lawyer who campaigned on a platform to deport all Danish Muslims. Paludan sparked riots in April when he threw the Quran in the air and let it hit the ground during a rally in a multicultural neighborhood in the capital. Since then, the state has spent around $6 million protecting him at his campaign rallies, during which he burns the Quran or stuffs it with bacon.

Although Paludan’s Hard Line didn’t end up entering the parliament, the media’s focus on his provocations propelled him to national significance. Before the April riots, he had garnered only around 5,000 of the 20,000 signatures necessary to present his candidacy; in the days that followed, he managed to multiply his following and enter the race.

The Hard Line and New Right have both solidified the Danish People’s Party’s position as a mainstream party and undermined its appeal. “It’s terrifying that these Nazis, knocking on Parliament’s door, make the Danish People’s Party look ‘meh,’” Al-Hariri said. “But at the same time, it would be incorrect to say it’s not part of the establishment.”

“All the focus on Paludan squeezed the Danish People’s Party, which suddenly seemed moderate on immigration,” Karina Kosaria-Pedersen, a political scientist at the University of Copenhagen, told me. Electorally speaking, the party’s transformation—from the margins to the mainstream—didn’t work in its favor. Its cooperation with major parties and success in dictating immigration policies made it look “more like the elite it had claimed to challenge,” she said. That new dynamic, plus an ongoing scandal over allegations of misused EU funds, have curbed the party’s steady ascent.

[biofunmy]

With Joko Widodo’s Re-election, Indonesia Bucks Global Tilt Toward Strongmen

MANDALIKA, Indonesia — The woman threw herself on the road in front of the motorcade, forcing the vehicle with the license plate “Indonesia 1” to slam on the brakes.

“Jokowi, I love you,” she cried, as President Joko Widodo of Indonesia, re-elected with the release of Tuesday’s vote count, rolled down his window to clasp hands with the sobbing fan on a rural roadside on the island of Lombok.

Commonly known by the nickname Jokowi, Mr. Joko seems an unlikely figure to command such rock-star reverence. His oratory depends less on grand vision or populist rhetoric and more on statistics about road building or village financing down to the 10th decimal place.

He favors plain white collared shirts and black trousers. He speaks softly.

Yet Mr. Joko’s re-election to a second and final term as president of the world’s fourth most populous nation is a powerful counterweight to the democratic weakening and strongman politics that have recently dominated the global electoral landscape.

“I’m president of all of Indonesia, and democracy protects pluralism,” Mr. Joko told The New York Times in an interview. “My government is about harmony and opposing extremism.”

Just by the numbers, of which Mr. Joko is so fond, Indonesia is a nation of political superlatives. The country has the world’s largest Muslim population, but it is also a secular state with sizable religious minorities. It is the planet’s third-biggest democracy, behind India and the United States.

And it is the biggest island nation on earth, composed of 17,000 islands where more than 300 languages are spoken, according to the president’s count.

“For the continued existence of our country,” Mr. Joko said, “we have to rely on Indonesia’s culture, which is diverse and tolerant.”

Yet the challenges of holding together such a sprawling nation mean that Indonesia often seems to retreat into itself rather than project its weight on the global stage. Mr. Joko, 57, demurred when asked whether Indonesia, which overthrew a dictatorship two decades ago, might serve as a model for Muslim-majority nations ruled by family diktat.

“Islam and democracy are compatible,” Mr. Joko said. “But let others come and see with their own eyes. I cannot tell them.”

Instead, he began listing the finer points of cutting red tape to acquire business permits. Focusing on a lagging infrastructure that has hobbled the nation’s economic growth, he spent nearly 10 minutes talking about the more than 1,100 miles of new roads built during his first five-year term.

Then he moved on to the merits of mass transit. The country’s traffic-choked capital, Jakarta, struggled for years to build a subway, its first part opening only recently.

“Transportation maybe is not sexy,” he said. “But if we don’t have good infrastructure, we cannot be a developed country. We are behind in building roads and airports.”

[Jakarta is sinking so fast, it could end up underwater.]

A onetime furniture maker before becoming a mayor, Mr. Joko is the first true commoner to be elected president of Indonesia. He took power in 2014, promising to uphold the rights of minorities and women. In addition to improving Indonesia’s woeful infrastructure, he pledged to combat deep-rooted corruption.

“I’ve been working on public works for 40 years,” said Basuki Hadimuljono, the minister for public works and people’s housing. “This is the first time we’ve had commitment from the president to do all this.”

Mr. Joko’s opponent in last month’s elections, Prabowo Subianto, was the same old-guard opponent he faced in 2014. A former army general who was once married to the daughter of Indonesia’s longtime dictator, Mr. Prabowo is expected to challenge Tuesday’s election results.

Despite his taste for wine and a Christian mother, Mr. Prabowo aligned himself with hard-line Muslim forces that have called for the country to jettison its syncretic Islam for a more austere form of the faith as practiced in its Middle Eastern birthplace. He allowed rumors to flourish that Mr. Joko, who fasts twice a week in a pious Muslim tradition, was a closet Christian.

Mr. Joko has defended Indonesian Muslim traditions, which incorporate elements from other faiths, including local nature worship. As president, he banned a hard-line group intent on creating a global Islamic caliphate to replace democratic governance.

“Our Islam is modern, moderate and different from others,” he said.

But as Indonesia has hewed to a global trend of growing Islamic conservatism, Mr. Joko picked as his running mate this election a Muslim cleric who has spoken out against yoga and gay rights.

When his former political protégé, an ethnic Chinese Christian, was imprisoned for blasphemy in 2017, a charge that human rights activists saw as politically motivated, Mr. Joko declined to defend him.

Asked about his failure to speak up for his old political ally, Mr. Joko said after a long pause, “Sometimes in politics, it’s difficult to say,” adding, “You must decide the priorities for the country.”

Mr. Joko’s critics say his silence betrayed the religious minorities who overwhelmingly voted for him in both presidential elections.

“I thought that Jokowi missed the golden moment to strengthen the human rights regime that has been enshrined in the Constitution and other human rights laws,” said Nursyahbani Katjasungkana, a human rights lawyer and women’s rights advocate.

Mr. Joko’s supporters say that his second term will allow him to pursue a reformist agenda without having to worry about re-election because of term limits.

And in a country where political elites are often dogged by whispers of lavish corruption, Mr. Joko’s family is ascetic. One of his sons is a blogger who dabbles in a business of treats made of banana, while the other owns a pancake chain. His daughter failed to pass the civil service exam. Mr. Joko has only one wife.

He enjoys heavy metal, and once traveled to Singapore for a Judas Priest concert.

In a Muslim-dominated society, Mr. Joko has called for greater female participation in the work force. Eight of his 34 ministers are women, and they handle important portfolios like the foreign and finance ministries.

“It’s very important for our economy to empower women,” Mr. Joko said.

Walking through a food market on the tourist island of Bali last weekend, Mr. Joko noted that more than 90 percent of the stall owners were female. He talked up microfinancing initiatives for women.

The market was spotless. Hillocks of guavas, avocados and hairy rambutan fruit were perfectly placed. A few years ago, the space was filthy, slick with fish guts and rotting produce underfoot, stall owners said.

This year, Bali banned the use of single-use plastics, like plastic bags and straws, to tackle the tsunami of waste washing up on Indonesia’s once pristine beaches. The country is the second-largest producer of plastic waste in the world.

Mr. Joko bought a pair of papayas from Made Warti, a 68-year-old fruit seller. Delighted that the president had stopped at her stand, she tried to stuff the fruit in a plastic bag before a member of the presidential entourage instructed her to use a cloth tote.

She shrugged when asked about government initiatives for female entrepreneurs like herself; she had never heard of such a thing.

In a country as scattered and corrupt as Indonesia, much can get lost between the highest levels of government policy and a shopkeeper trying to make a living.

The crowds jostled Mr. Joko as he caressed fruit and posed for a seemingly endless procession of selfies. The day before, he had spent hours in a mall and other venues doing the same. Smile, smile, smile.

Sometimes, his admirers were so nervous that their sweaty fingers could not activate the buttons to trigger their phone cameras. Mr. Joko was happy to take over the controls.

“I’m your president so I work for you,” he joked as one fan handed over his cellphone. “That’s my job.”

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