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Quannah ChasingHorse on Joyful Resistance

Quannah’s joyful resistance embodies the beauty of being the revolution. She embodies strength, beauty, power and we are here for it. Quannah ChasingHorse (she/her) is a Han Gwich’in and Sicangu/Oglala Lakota land protector, climate justice activist, and fashion model from Eagle Village, Alaska, and South Dakota tribes. Born on the Navajo Nation, she grew up in various locations and raised in a subsistence lifestyle with her family, Quannah’s connection to her homelands and people guides her activism. Quannah is a model who uses her platform to promote Indigenous representation and sustainability. She has worked with top fashion houses and appeared on the covers of Vogue Mexico, Vogue China, and has received numerous accolades, including Teen Vogue’s Top 21 under 21, Forbes 30 under 30, and USA Today’s Women of the Year. In June 2022, she premiered “Walking Two Worlds” at the TriBeCa Film Festival, a documentary about her family’s fight to protect their sacred lands and Indigenous representation.
Quannah was in conversation with her Auntie, Princess Daazhraii Johnson, an Emmy-nominated writer/producer of Gwich’in and Ashkenazi descent, who lives on the traditional territory of lower Tanana Dene lands in Alaska. A co-founder of Deenaadàį’ Productions, Princess is dedicated to narrative sovereignty for Alaska Native filmmakers. She serves on the boards of Native Movement and NDN Collective, is a 2023 Grist 50 Climate Leader, and has been deeply involved in protecting Native Ways of Life. With a background as a Sundance Film Alum, SAG-AFTRA and Television Academy member, and credits including the Peabody Award-winning PBS Kids series “Molly of Denali” and HBO’s “True Detective: Night Country”, she is currently developing her first feature film, an adaptation of “Two Old Women,” which she will direct.

Quannah
I really appreciate this platform because it gives us an opportunity to reach out to people, especially within the Native community. Just yesterday, a Native guy got upset with me and Dallas Goldtooth for speaking out about Palestine, the Congo, Sudan, and other places where people need voices right now. He told us we should focus on our own people, saying those others don’t do anything for us. This is what it looks like—connecting, building bridges, and recognizing the similarities in our struggles.
Princess
You’re diving right into the question of what collective liberation really is. I think you’re highlighting a crucial aspect: creating a shared understanding. Given how our histories have been so intentionally suppressed, introducing people to the true histories is essential for reaching that shared understanding and for us to see ourselves in each other. So, I’m curious, what else does collective liberation look like to you?
Quannah
To me, collective liberation looks like what many of us are already doing—looking beyond our immediate experiences and making connections with what’s happening elsewhere. We recognize that if the same events were unfolding in our communities, as they have throughout history, we have a responsibility not just to uplift those voices but to show the world that we stand in solidarity.
Collective liberation means not just standing together but also utilizing tools like social media to access and share information. It’s alarming to see not only uninformed individuals but also political figures spreading misinformation and perpetuating harm, often through internalized racism. Collective liberation is about showing up and doing your part, whatever that looks like. It’s important for people to understand that there’s no one way to show up.

Princess
As you were talking, I was reflecting on a recent trip I took to Arctic Village and Circle, where I had an incredible interview with our elder, First Traditional Chief Trimble Gilbert. We were at a Gwich’in gathering, and I interviewed him about our traditional dances, like the fiddle dances and the rope dance, where everyone ends up holding hands. He talked about how we’ve made these dances our own—how the way we play the fiddle is uniquely Gwich’in, and those dances are uniquely ours. It’s a metaphor for how, in our community, coming from a background of survival, we had to work together and unify.
As someone who is both Gwich’in and Ashkenazi Jewish, and born in the West Bank, I think a lot about borders—physical fences and walls, and how people and animals around the world have been displaced.
Collective liberation is also about our animal relatives, our waterways. If we could take away nationalism, weapons, bombs, and all the things that cause destruction, I think we’d see more clearly that we are in a climate crisis.
Quannah
Exactly. Growing up, I learned not just through words, but by example, that we see ourselves as part of nature—not above or below it, but as nature itself. When we protect nature, we’re protecting ourselves, our bloodlines, and our animal relatives. That teaching is deeply ingrained in me, and it’s hard to comprehend that others don’t see the world that way.
As you mentioned, we need to rematriate society—how we move and show up in this world. The world could truly benefit from our teachings, which are rooted in love. But that’s what’s missing today—humanity and love.
You don’t have to post every five minutes or put your life on the line, but many have, and that’s the strength of our people—we’ll put our lives on the line for what we believe in, for our community’s right to clean water, clean air, and control over our lands.
Being raised in a matriarchy, I was taught to amplify women’s voices and to stand behind strong, knowledgeable women who represent us well. Everything we do is fueled by love. I see that love in you, in my mom, my aunties, and that’s how I navigate the world—with love for my people, my community, our animals, our waters, and other Indigenous communities that need to be heard.
Princess
Yes, everything truly does happen for a reason, and it’s essential to acknowledge that we’re riding the wave of thousands of years of Indigenous knowledge and wisdom. I see our lands, our animals, our mountains—everything we hold sacred. You carry all of this with such care and power, and that’s absolutely vital.
Listening is something we both value deeply, and in a world full of noise, we’ve been blessed to find quiet moments on the land, on the Yukon River, listening to the river’s song, receiving messages from the Creator. These moments ground us and remind us of our responsibility to educate others, to help them see that our liberation is interconnected with the liberation of all beings.
I agree that our Gwich’in worldview brings a unique blend of emotional and spiritual intelligence. This is where our humanity comes in. Each of us has a role, and sometimes it’s not about finding the perfect words but about making connections through storytelling, poetry, or images that resonate with others.
Collective liberation means having the freedom to love as we choose, to love who we want in the way we want. This is especially significant for Indigenous women, given our history—forced sterilization, the removal of our children. To be comfortable and aligned with our power as Indigenous women, to make choices for ourselves, is a profound political statement.
Your words are powerful, and they articulate the deep connections we have to each other, our lands, and our responsibilities.

Quannah
Absolutely. The ongoing crisis of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and People (MMIW/P) starkly illustrates how our very existence as Indigenous people is deeply political. The fact that thousands of Native women have gone missing or been murdered, with so many cases unresolved, highlights a systemic disregard for our lives.
This is why you see Native people advocating so fiercely for our communities. We are the ones who carry the weight of these issues, not just because they affect us, but because we have a responsibility to our ancestors, our communities, and future generations. We’ve all witnessed the effects of the climate crisis and that we are truly dependent upon one another. We’ve seen how politics has infiltrated every aspect of our lives, where even the fight for clean air and water, which should be a fundamental right, has become a political battleground. When we feel liberated, when we reclaim our power, we challenge the very foundations of that system.We are still here, and we are more than our struggles.
We are a people of strength, wisdom, and love, and that’s something no system can take away from us.
Princess
It’s mind-blowing to witness the devastation in Palestine, especially in Gaza, where the destruction has created an environmental and climate disaster affecting all living beings in the region.
You mentioned MMIW, and it struck me because violence against the land is intertwined with violence against women—it’s all connected. I think about the extractive resource industry and how deeply it ties into the dehumanization we’ve faced in the media, going back to dime novels and cartoons that depicted Indigenous and Muslim people as less than human.
I want to draw a parallel for our Indigenous brothers and sisters: what has been happening to the Palestinian people for generations mirrors what’s happened to us on Turtle Island. It’s maddening, especially knowing our tax dollars fund this genocide.
In these moments, we have to channel our rage and frustration, stay committed to our love, and hold onto the vision of collective liberation. Even if progress seems incremental, we must keep pushing in that direction.
Quannah
Mic drop.
I think about environmental racism a lot—how it’s playing out in every Indigenous community through extreme forms of extraction. It’s heartbreaking to see the direct impact on our communities and to realize how it’s spreading across the world. You start by thinking about how it affects your people, but then you realize, if we don’t stop this, it will spread like wildfire, and that’s exactly what’s been happening everywhere.
People are missing this crucial point, like with what’s happening in Gaza. Do you really think they’ll stop? They’ve destroyed everything, and yet they continue. “
Princess
I heard a quote from an older man who said, “It’s just a matter of time before we’re all Palestinians.” We have the opportunity to say no, to refuse to allow genocide to happen. The United States could have intervened by not arming Israel, but they didn’t. Now, it’s up to us, the people, to keep pressuring political leaders. Mother Earth can’t sustain much more of this destruction and bombing.

Quannah
Mother Earth can’t sustain much more. Just the other day, on the second of this month, we officially over-consumed to the point where Earth can’t regenerate. It’s terrifying to think about how we keep taking without giving back or fulfilling our responsibilities as a community of humans. Yes, Indigenous people are doing the work—80% of the world’s biodiversity is protected by Indigenous communities. The teaching of considering the next seven generations guides everything I do. Our identities and how we walk in this world are political.”
Princess
There’s also the element of threat—how simply existing can be seen as a threat, especially when you remind others of the deep ties we have to our lands. This is particularly true when standing against big oil or, as I often compare, the Palestinian people. Their very existence is a reminder of the ongoing Nakba, a symbol of resistance against the occupation and extraction of their lands.
I want to uplift the voices of those on the ground working toward peace, even though it’s hard. Peace cannot come without justice. I follow both Palestinian and Israeli individuals who are striving to have these difficult conversations, despite not being popular. It’s essential to try and reach a place where we see each other as full human beings because right now, that’s what’s missing—recognizing each other’s humanity.
Quannah
Social media is a powerful tool, but it can also expose you to hate, especially when you have influence.
It’s vital to support one another, especially when facing such hatred. When we heal ourselves, we contribute to healing our communities. I try to communicate this to our Native men, who may struggle with seeking help. Getting help doesn’t just benefit the individual—it strengthens the community because, as we heal, we naturally give back.
Often, those who express hate are themselves deeply hurt, raised in environments that foster hatred and ignorance. While it’s not our responsibility to help them unlearn their racism, I believe it’s important to approach them with love. I’ve had conversations with people raised in very right-wing, racist households, and by giving them grace and educating them, I’ve seen them change.
Princess
Exactly. What you’re saying is crucial. It’s disturbing how many people, even within our circles, have remained silent on what’s happening in Palestine and Gaza. When we reflect on historical atrocities like the Holocaust, people often say, “How could that have happened? I wouldn’t have acted that way.” But the truth is, many of us are complicit through our silence. We need to examine our relationship with capitalism, money, and the ways in which fear governs us.
Fear is powerful—whether it’s fear of not being able to feed our families, fear of being doxxed, or fear of the consequences of speaking out. But it takes a deep, spiritual perspective to push past that fear and say, “Despite my fear, I need to speak up.”
Quannah
As you’ve highlighted, Indigenous teachings and values are crucial in understanding the broader context of our struggles. Speaking as a Two Spirit, Indigenous person inherently intertwines with these issues, and it’s a powerful testament to our resilience and dedication.
Reconnecting with the land and our ancestors is indeed a profound way to ground oneself and find clarity in advocating for what’s right. Your strength and commitment are evident, and it’s this dedication that drives meaningful change.
Princess
That’s so beautiful, Quannah. I hope that one day we can all come together to help the Palestinian people rebuild and heal. We’ve discussed many intense issues and brought our ancestors into the conversation. Let’s take 20 seconds of silence to honor all those lives that are transitioning.
Moment of silence…

In Conversation:
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{
"article":
{
"title" : "Quannah ChasingHorse on Joyful Resistance",
"author" : "Quannah ChasingHorse, Princess Daazhraii Johnson",
"category" : "interviews",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/quannah-chasinghorse-joyful-resistance",
"date" : "2024-09-20 00:00:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Thumb-QuannahRose_EIP_FILM_087.jpg",
"excerpt" : "",
"content" : "Quannah’s joyful resistance embodies the beauty of being the revolution. She embodies strength, beauty, power and we are here for it. Quannah ChasingHorse (she/her) is a Han Gwich’in and Sicangu/Oglala Lakota land protector, climate justice activist, and fashion model from Eagle Village, Alaska, and South Dakota tribes. Born on the Navajo Nation, she grew up in various locations and raised in a subsistence lifestyle with her family, Quannah’s connection to her homelands and people guides her activism. Quannah is a model who uses her platform to promote Indigenous representation and sustainability. She has worked with top fashion houses and appeared on the covers of Vogue Mexico, Vogue China, and has received numerous accolades, including Teen Vogue’s Top 21 under 21, Forbes 30 under 30, and USA Today’s Women of the Year. In June 2022, she premiered “Walking Two Worlds” at the TriBeCa Film Festival, a documentary about her family’s fight to protect their sacred lands and Indigenous representation.Quannah was in conversation with her Auntie, Princess Daazhraii Johnson, an Emmy-nominated writer/producer of Gwich’in and Ashkenazi descent, who lives on the traditional territory of lower Tanana Dene lands in Alaska. A co-founder of Deenaadàį’ Productions, Princess is dedicated to narrative sovereignty for Alaska Native filmmakers. She serves on the boards of Native Movement and NDN Collective, is a 2023 Grist 50 Climate Leader, and has been deeply involved in protecting Native Ways of Life. With a background as a Sundance Film Alum, SAG-AFTRA and Television Academy member, and credits including the Peabody Award-winning PBS Kids series “Molly of Denali” and HBO’s “True Detective: Night Country”, she is currently developing her first feature film, an adaptation of “Two Old Women,” which she will direct.QuannahI really appreciate this platform because it gives us an opportunity to reach out to people, especially within the Native community. Just yesterday, a Native guy got upset with me and Dallas Goldtooth for speaking out about Palestine, the Congo, Sudan, and other places where people need voices right now. He told us we should focus on our own people, saying those others don’t do anything for us. This is what it looks like—connecting, building bridges, and recognizing the similarities in our struggles.PrincessYou’re diving right into the question of what collective liberation really is. I think you’re highlighting a crucial aspect: creating a shared understanding. Given how our histories have been so intentionally suppressed, introducing people to the true histories is essential for reaching that shared understanding and for us to see ourselves in each other. So, I’m curious, what else does collective liberation look like to you?QuannahTo me, collective liberation looks like what many of us are already doing—looking beyond our immediate experiences and making connections with what’s happening elsewhere. We recognize that if the same events were unfolding in our communities, as they have throughout history, we have a responsibility not just to uplift those voices but to show the world that we stand in solidarity.Collective liberation means not just standing together but also utilizing tools like social media to access and share information. It’s alarming to see not only uninformed individuals but also political figures spreading misinformation and perpetuating harm, often through internalized racism. Collective liberation is about showing up and doing your part, whatever that looks like. It’s important for people to understand that there’s no one way to show up.PrincessAs you were talking, I was reflecting on a recent trip I took to Arctic Village and Circle, where I had an incredible interview with our elder, First Traditional Chief Trimble Gilbert. We were at a Gwich’in gathering, and I interviewed him about our traditional dances, like the fiddle dances and the rope dance, where everyone ends up holding hands. He talked about how we’ve made these dances our own—how the way we play the fiddle is uniquely Gwich’in, and those dances are uniquely ours. It’s a metaphor for how, in our community, coming from a background of survival, we had to work together and unify.As someone who is both Gwich’in and Ashkenazi Jewish, and born in the West Bank, I think a lot about borders—physical fences and walls, and how people and animals around the world have been displaced.Collective liberation is also about our animal relatives, our waterways. If we could take away nationalism, weapons, bombs, and all the things that cause destruction, I think we’d see more clearly that we are in a climate crisis.QuannahExactly. Growing up, I learned not just through words, but by example, that we see ourselves as part of nature—not above or below it, but as nature itself. When we protect nature, we’re protecting ourselves, our bloodlines, and our animal relatives. That teaching is deeply ingrained in me, and it’s hard to comprehend that others don’t see the world that way.As you mentioned, we need to rematriate society—how we move and show up in this world. The world could truly benefit from our teachings, which are rooted in love. But that’s what’s missing today—humanity and love.You don’t have to post every five minutes or put your life on the line, but many have, and that’s the strength of our people—we’ll put our lives on the line for what we believe in, for our community’s right to clean water, clean air, and control over our lands.Being raised in a matriarchy, I was taught to amplify women’s voices and to stand behind strong, knowledgeable women who represent us well. Everything we do is fueled by love. I see that love in you, in my mom, my aunties, and that’s how I navigate the world—with love for my people, my community, our animals, our waters, and other Indigenous communities that need to be heard.PrincessYes, everything truly does happen for a reason, and it’s essential to acknowledge that we’re riding the wave of thousands of years of Indigenous knowledge and wisdom. I see our lands, our animals, our mountains—everything we hold sacred. You carry all of this with such care and power, and that’s absolutely vital.Listening is something we both value deeply, and in a world full of noise, we’ve been blessed to find quiet moments on the land, on the Yukon River, listening to the river’s song, receiving messages from the Creator. These moments ground us and remind us of our responsibility to educate others, to help them see that our liberation is interconnected with the liberation of all beings.I agree that our Gwich’in worldview brings a unique blend of emotional and spiritual intelligence. This is where our humanity comes in. Each of us has a role, and sometimes it’s not about finding the perfect words but about making connections through storytelling, poetry, or images that resonate with others.Collective liberation means having the freedom to love as we choose, to love who we want in the way we want. This is especially significant for Indigenous women, given our history—forced sterilization, the removal of our children. To be comfortable and aligned with our power as Indigenous women, to make choices for ourselves, is a profound political statement.Your words are powerful, and they articulate the deep connections we have to each other, our lands, and our responsibilities.Quannah Absolutely. The ongoing crisis of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and People (MMIW/P) starkly illustrates how our very existence as Indigenous people is deeply political. The fact that thousands of Native women have gone missing or been murdered, with so many cases unresolved, highlights a systemic disregard for our lives.This is why you see Native people advocating so fiercely for our communities. We are the ones who carry the weight of these issues, not just because they affect us, but because we have a responsibility to our ancestors, our communities, and future generations. We’ve all witnessed the effects of the climate crisis and that we are truly dependent upon one another. We’ve seen how politics has infiltrated every aspect of our lives, where even the fight for clean air and water, which should be a fundamental right, has become a political battleground. When we feel liberated, when we reclaim our power, we challenge the very foundations of that system.We are still here, and we are more than our struggles.We are a people of strength, wisdom, and love, and that’s something no system can take away from us.PrincessIt’s mind-blowing to witness the devastation in Palestine, especially in Gaza, where the destruction has created an environmental and climate disaster affecting all living beings in the region.You mentioned MMIW, and it struck me because violence against the land is intertwined with violence against women—it’s all connected. I think about the extractive resource industry and how deeply it ties into the dehumanization we’ve faced in the media, going back to dime novels and cartoons that depicted Indigenous and Muslim people as less than human. I want to draw a parallel for our Indigenous brothers and sisters: what has been happening to the Palestinian people for generations mirrors what’s happened to us on Turtle Island. It’s maddening, especially knowing our tax dollars fund this genocide.In these moments, we have to channel our rage and frustration, stay committed to our love, and hold onto the vision of collective liberation. Even if progress seems incremental, we must keep pushing in that direction.QuannahMic drop.I think about environmental racism a lot—how it’s playing out in every Indigenous community through extreme forms of extraction. It’s heartbreaking to see the direct impact on our communities and to realize how it’s spreading across the world. You start by thinking about how it affects your people, but then you realize, if we don’t stop this, it will spread like wildfire, and that’s exactly what’s been happening everywhere.People are missing this crucial point, like with what’s happening in Gaza. Do you really think they’ll stop? They’ve destroyed everything, and yet they continue. “PrincessI heard a quote from an older man who said, “It’s just a matter of time before we’re all Palestinians.” We have the opportunity to say no, to refuse to allow genocide to happen. The United States could have intervened by not arming Israel, but they didn’t. Now, it’s up to us, the people, to keep pressuring political leaders. Mother Earth can’t sustain much more of this destruction and bombing.QuannahMother Earth can’t sustain much more. Just the other day, on the second of this month, we officially over-consumed to the point where Earth can’t regenerate. It’s terrifying to think about how we keep taking without giving back or fulfilling our responsibilities as a community of humans. Yes, Indigenous people are doing the work—80% of the world’s biodiversity is protected by Indigenous communities. The teaching of considering the next seven generations guides everything I do. Our identities and how we walk in this world are political.”PrincessThere’s also the element of threat—how simply existing can be seen as a threat, especially when you remind others of the deep ties we have to our lands. This is particularly true when standing against big oil or, as I often compare, the Palestinian people. Their very existence is a reminder of the ongoing Nakba, a symbol of resistance against the occupation and extraction of their lands.I want to uplift the voices of those on the ground working toward peace, even though it’s hard. Peace cannot come without justice. I follow both Palestinian and Israeli individuals who are striving to have these difficult conversations, despite not being popular. It’s essential to try and reach a place where we see each other as full human beings because right now, that’s what’s missing—recognizing each other’s humanity.QuannahSocial media is a powerful tool, but it can also expose you to hate, especially when you have influence.It’s vital to support one another, especially when facing such hatred. When we heal ourselves, we contribute to healing our communities. I try to communicate this to our Native men, who may struggle with seeking help. Getting help doesn’t just benefit the individual—it strengthens the community because, as we heal, we naturally give back.Often, those who express hate are themselves deeply hurt, raised in environments that foster hatred and ignorance. While it’s not our responsibility to help them unlearn their racism, I believe it’s important to approach them with love. I’ve had conversations with people raised in very right-wing, racist households, and by giving them grace and educating them, I’ve seen them change.PrincessExactly. What you’re saying is crucial. It’s disturbing how many people, even within our circles, have remained silent on what’s happening in Palestine and Gaza. When we reflect on historical atrocities like the Holocaust, people often say, “How could that have happened? I wouldn’t have acted that way.” But the truth is, many of us are complicit through our silence. We need to examine our relationship with capitalism, money, and the ways in which fear governs us.Fear is powerful—whether it’s fear of not being able to feed our families, fear of being doxxed, or fear of the consequences of speaking out. But it takes a deep, spiritual perspective to push past that fear and say, “Despite my fear, I need to speak up.”QuannahAs you’ve highlighted, Indigenous teachings and values are crucial in understanding the broader context of our struggles. Speaking as a Two Spirit, Indigenous person inherently intertwines with these issues, and it’s a powerful testament to our resilience and dedication.Reconnecting with the land and our ancestors is indeed a profound way to ground oneself and find clarity in advocating for what’s right. Your strength and commitment are evident, and it’s this dedication that drives meaningful change.PrincessThat’s so beautiful, Quannah. I hope that one day we can all come together to help the Palestinian people rebuild and heal. We’ve discussed many intense issues and brought our ancestors into the conversation. Let’s take 20 seconds of silence to honor all those lives that are transitioning.Moment of silence…"
}
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"relatedposts": [
{
"title" : "From Sabra & Shatila to Gaza: The UN’s Century of Failure and the Rise of Alternatives",
"author" : "Collis Browne",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/from-sabra-and-shatila-to-gaza",
"date" : "2025-09-16 10:47:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/2025_9_16_UN_Genocide_1.jpg",
"excerpt" : "On the 43rd anniversary of the massacres committed under Israeli authority at Sabra and Shatila camps in Beirut in 1982, a United Nations Commission Of Inquiry has concluded, as would any rational observer, that Israel has been committing genocide in Gaza since October 2023.",
"content" : "On the 43rd anniversary of the massacres committed under Israeli authority at Sabra and Shatila camps in Beirut in 1982, a United Nations Commission Of Inquiry has concluded, as would any rational observer, that Israel has been committing genocide in Gaza since October 2023.This is not news. It could, however, be a turning point, . The UN’s declaration cracks open the conservative West’s long-standing wall of denial about the genocidal intentions and actions of the U.S.–Israel military machine. What happens next matters.A Century of Genocidal IntentFor those who have been watching Palestine with clarity long before 2023, this genocide is not an aberration — it is the project itself. From its inception, every major Zionist leader and Israeli politician has openly articulated the goal of erasing the Indigenous people of Palestine, whether through forced expulsion or mass murder.More than a hundred years of speeches, policies, and massacres testify to this intent. The so-called “War on Gaza” is simply the most visible and livestreamed stage of an ongoing colonial project.The UN’s Empty WordsIs this UN report different? The UN has made declarative statements for decades with no action or enforcement. In 1975, the UN declared Zionism is racism, citing the “unholy alliance” between apartheid South Africa and Israel. Yet Zionists continued to enjoy privileged status across Western institutions. Since 1967, the UN has passed resolution after resolution denouncing illegal Israeli settlements on stolen Palestinian land. Still, the theft continues unchecked. In December 2022, the UN General Assembly demanded Israel end its “unlawful presence” in the Occupied Territories within one year. That deadline expires this week, September 18, 2025. Israel has ignored it completely, as expected — with no consequences. Declarations without enforcement are not justice. They are fig leaves for impunity.What Good Is the UN?The Geneva Convention obliges all states to intervene to stop and punish genocide. Yet no country has deployed forces to resist Israel’s military slaughter in Gaza. No sanctions. No accountability.If the UN cannot stop one of its own member states from carrying out genocide in full public view — in “4K” as the world watches live — then what is the UN for?The Rise of AlternativesThe cracks are widening. The government of China has announced a new Global Governance initiative, already backed by dozens of countries. Without illusions about its motivations, the concept paper at least addresses three of the UN’s structural failures: Underrepresentation of the Global South — redressing centuries of colonial imbalance. Erosion of authoritativeness — restoring the credibility of international law. Urgent need for effectiveness — accelerating stalled progress on global commitments like the UN’s 2030 Agenda. The question is not whether the UN will reform. It is whether it can survive its own irrelevance.Toward a New Global OrderFrom Sabra and Shatila to Gaza, the UN has failed to prevent — or even meaningfully resist — genocide. Its reports and resolutions pile up, while the graves in Palestine multiply.If the international body tasked with “peace and security” cannot act against the most televised genocide in history, then the world has to ask: do we need a new United Nations? Or do we need to build something entirely different — a system of global governance that serves the people, not the powerful?"
}
,
{
"title" : "France in Revolt: Debt, Uranium, and the Costs of Macron-ism",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/france-in-revolt",
"date" : "2025-09-14 22:39:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Bloquons-Tout.jpg",
"excerpt" : "France is burning again—not only on the streets of Paris but in the brittle foundations of its political economy. What began as a mass revolt against austerity and public-service cuts has become a national convulsion: roads blocked, train stations occupied, workplaces shut down under the call to “Bloquons Tout” (Let’s Block Everything). The collapse of François Bayrou’s government is only the latest symptom. At the root of the crisis is a political project: Macronism—the steady, decade-long tilt toward pro-business reforms, tax cuts for the wealthy, and austerity by default—that has hollowed out public revenue and narrowed citizens’ options.",
"content" : "France is burning again—not only on the streets of Paris but in the brittle foundations of its political economy. What began as a mass revolt against austerity and public-service cuts has become a national convulsion: roads blocked, train stations occupied, workplaces shut down under the call to “Bloquons Tout” (Let’s Block Everything). The collapse of François Bayrou’s government is only the latest symptom. At the root of the crisis is a political project: Macronism—the steady, decade-long tilt toward pro-business reforms, tax cuts for the wealthy, and austerity by default—that has hollowed out public revenue and narrowed citizens’ options.Tax Cuts, Corporate Giveaways, and Rising DebtSince Emmanuel Macron took office in 2017, his administration rolled out a suite of pro-market reforms: the abolition of the broad wealth tax (ISF), replaced by a narrower property wealth tax (IFI); a sustained reduction of the corporate tax rate to about 25%; and a raft of tax measures framed as competitiveness fixes for companies and investors. Economists now estimate that Macron’s tax cuts account for a significant share of France’s rising public debt; his reforms helped widen deficits even before pandemic and energy-shock spending pushed them higher. Today France’s public debt sits near 113–114% of GDP, and ratings agencies and markets are watching closely. (Le Monde.fr)These policies did not produce the promised boom in broadly shared prosperity. Investment did not surge enough to offset lost revenue, and growth remained sluggish. The political consequence was predictable: when the state has less to spend, the burden of balancing budgets falls on cuts to pensions, healthcare, and social programs—measures that overwhelmingly hurt working-class and vulnerable communities. (Financial Times)Pension Reform, Social Fracture, and the Limits of ConsentMacron’s government pushed a controversial pension reform—raising the retirement age from 62 to 64—which sparked nationwide strikes and mass protests in 2023. The reform illustrated a defining feature of Macronism: when public consent falters, the state still presses forward with market-oriented restructuring, deepening social fracture and anger. The pension fight didn’t create the crisis so much as expose it. (Al Jazeera)Colonial Hangover: Uranium, Energy, and GeopoliticsFrance’s energy model has long rested on nuclear power—once a source of national pride for its emission-free nature, and geopolitical independence. Behind that story, however, is another: the colonial era’s extraction of uranium in places like Niger, where French companies (notably Orano/former Areva) secured resource access under unequal terms. As Niger reasserted sovereignty over its resources after the 2023 coup and pushed back on French access, the illusion of seamless “energy independence” began to crack. Losing preferential access to Nigerien uranium has widened France’s energy insecurity and amplified the fiscal squeeze: higher energy costs, the need to secure new supply chains, and political pressure to maintain subsidies for households. The politics of extraction are now returning home. (Le Monde.fr)Climate, Austerity, and the Moral EconomyAdd the climate emergency to the mix—record heatwaves, floods, and wildfires—and the picture becomes even more bleak. Infrastructure strain and rising costs of climate adaptation demand public investment, yet the government’s posture has been to trim and reprioritize spending to satisfy markets. In practice, that means the people least responsible for climate harm—low-income communities, migrants, and precarious workers—are asked to pay the price. The result is a moral and political rupture: climate vulnerability plus fiscal austerity equals radicalized grievance. (Financial Times)A Convergence of FailuresThis is why the current uprising cannot be reduced to a single grievance. It is the convergence of multiple failures: Economic: tax policy that favored the wealthy while starving the public purse; rising debt and cuts that fall on the poor. (Financial Times) Colonial: the unraveling of extractive arrangements that once propped up French energy and power. (Le Monde.fr) Ecological: climate shocks that amplify social need even as public services are stripped back. (Financial Times) The revolt has therefore drawn a broad constituency—students, unions, public-sector workers, and neighborhoods long marginalized by austerity. It is not merely a labor dispute; it is a crisis of legitimacy for a model of governance that privatized gains and socialized pain.What Macronism Tells Us About the Global MomentFrance is a cautionary tale for democracies worldwide. When political leaders prioritize tax breaks for capital and cut public goods to placate markets, they borrow political stability against the future. The bill eventually comes due—in rising debt, in weakened social cohesion, and in violent backlash. Where resource dependencies meet neoliberal retrenchment, the risk of social rupture grows.Three Questions for What Comes Next Will the French state return to a redistributive project—taxing wealth, reclaiming revenues, and investing in climate resilience—or double down on austerity? Can movements translate street power into institutional change that addresses colonial legacies (resource sovereignty) as well as domestic inequality? Will climate policy be woven into social policy—so that adaptation and justice go hand in hand—or will they remain separate priorities, deepening vulnerability? France stands at a crossroads: continue a model that funnels benefit to capital while exposing citizens to climate and economic shocks—or imagine a social contract rooted in redistribution, de-colonial resource politics, and ecological justice. The choice will not be made in the Élysée alone. It is being argued in the streets, in workplaces, and across borders where the costs of extraction were first paid.Everything is Political—and in France today, that truth has never been clearer."
}
,
{
"title" : "Nepal’s New Reckoning",
"author" : "Tulsi Rauniyar",
"category" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/nepal-reckoning",
"date" : "2025-09-11 18:11:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/nepal1-IMG_5694.jpg",
"excerpt" : "From September 8-11, 2025, a massive popular uprising has taken place in Nepal, forcing the resignation of the Prime Minister and much of the government. We present some description and first reflections on the protests and riots, which were sparked by a social media ban and anger over government corruption and nepotism.",
"content" : "From September 8-11, 2025, a massive popular uprising has taken place in Nepal, forcing the resignation of the Prime Minister and much of the government. We present some description and first reflections on the protests and riots, which were sparked by a social media ban and anger over government corruption and nepotism.September 8In the white glare of a late summer morning, the broad avenues of Kathmandu, Nepal’s modern capital, are usually thrumming with traffic and smog. But on this sweltering day, the streets were crowded with chanting protesters, all of them demonstrating against the government of KP Sharma Oli. The largest crowd by far was made up of Gen-Z youth, most in their twenties, many still in school and college uniforms.For Nepal, such eruptions aren’t new: generations have risen before—against Rana autocrats in the 1950s, against royal rule in 1990, against King Gyanendra’s coup in 2005—only to watch hard-won freedoms erode. But for many of the protestors I spoke to, this was likely their first gathering. Their mission, organised on Instagram, Facebook, and Discord, was grand. They had gathered to protest the dismal state of the country, where the powerful and their children lived in luxury while countless Nepalis laboured abroad in countries like Qatar, Saudi Arabia, and Malaysia, sending remittances home to sustain their families. They marched in loose coordination, some singing protest songs, others dancing to drumbeats, and many chanting slogans. Handmade signs bore slogans carefully daubed in black paint.The last straw had come days earlier when the government imposed a blanket ban on social media platforms, cutting off main channels through which young Nepalis expressed frustration and organised politically. Tensions were already high, fueled in part by viral chatter about “nepo-babies,” the young faces that have long been symbols of privilege fast-tracked into positions of power because of their family connections. For Nepal’s youth, social media became a stage to mock them, question their merit, and call out a system where politics often feels like a family business.As the protesters pushed past the barricades outside Parliament, the police unexpectedly fell back rather than delivering the usual baton charge. A few tear gas canisters hissed through the air, and a lone water cannon swept the crowd, but the confrontation seemed restrained. People snapped selfies amid the haze, their chants echoing off the old brick walls, and for a brief moment, it felt almost ordinary, as if the protest might remain just another turbulent day in Kathmandu.According to reports, a cluster of older men mumbled about storming Parliament, while a few young riders, adrenaline surging, tore recklessly through the crowd on motorbikes, shouting insults. Near the complex itself, the energy shifted, protesters began hammering at the outer walls, some scrambling up the gates as flames flickered near the main entrance. The Armed Police Force advanced, their body armour and riot shields glinting under the dimming light, first launching tear gas canisters, then rubber bullets. In moments, the demonstration’s creative, almost celebratory tone disintegrated. Rocks and debris flew back toward the police lines. Gunfire—allegedly live rounds—cracked above the din. Chaos engulfed Kathmandu’s political heart.Videos soon flooded social media of unarmed students in school uniforms bleeding from head wounds, men collapsing unconscious, and disturbing claims that security forces had even fired tear gas into hospital grounds and beat the injured. What began as students chanting against corruption was quickly slipping into something far more volatile.By nightfall, nineteen people were dead in Kathmandu—a toll that already exceeded the casualties from Nepal’s 2006 People’s Movement, which had taken nineteen days to claim thirteen lives. Hospitals across the capital struggled with hundreds of injured protesters, many still in school uniforms. Blood banks reported critical shortages as medical staff worked through the night, treating gunshot wounds and head injuries from what had begun, just hours earlier, as a peaceful demonstration. Across the rest of Nepal, deaths and injuries were also reported, though full numbers remain unrecorded as events continue to unfold.The scale of the violence was unprecedented in Nepal’s modern democratic history. Even during the monarchy’s final, desperate attempts to maintain power nearly two decades earlier, the state had not deployed lethal force with such devastating efficiency against its own citizens. For a generation that had known only the republic, however flawed, the sight of young people bleeding in the streets represented a profound rupture in their understanding of what their government was capable of.To understand why thousands of teenagers and twenty-somethings would brave tear gas and rubber bullets, one must consider a long history of frustrated hopes for reform. Nearly two decades after the civil war ended, Prachanda, the former Maoist insurgent, once seemed a beacon of change. Millions voted for him, hoping for a fairer voice for the marginalised, a more just Nepal. But hope gave way to compromise, personal gain, and the slow churn of the same familiar leaders. The constitution, progressive on paper, was watered down. A new constitution, progressive in Nepal’s historical context, was stalled and diluted, and subsequent elections delivered a familiar cycle. The same discredited leaders rotating through power, swapped like pieces on a chessboard, their promises of reform fading with each turn.Public services remain poor. Tax burdens are high. Corruption scandals implicating politicians, bureaucrats, and businessmen piled up like grim milestones in the failure of the state. For decades, Nepal’s elites had looted land, siphoned public funds, and promised reforms that never came, leaving ordinary citizens disillusioned.It is this long pattern of systemic rot that now fuels the anger spilling onto Kathmandu’s streets—the young protesters demanding, in word and in action, that Nepal finally deliver on the change that generations have been promised but never seen.September 9The smell hit you first—acrid smoke from burning tires laced with petrol, hanging in Kathmandu’s September air like a toxic fog. Dawn on September 9th brought no respite. If anything, the deaths of nineteen protesters had transformed grief into something more volatile. Thousands defied hastily imposed curfews, emerging into streets still lingering with smoke from the previous day’s violence. What had begun as a youth-led movement against corruption now metastasised into something broader and more destructive—an utter rejection of Nepal’s political establishment.The targets were systematic. Party offices, politicians’ residences, and government buildings all came under attack. By afternoon, thick columns of smoke rose across the Kathmandu Valley, and the tint in the sky shifted from clear blue to a smoky haze that hung over the entire capital. Tribhuvan International Airport suspended operations, diverting flights as the capital descended into chaos. In the newer ministerial quarters south of the city, helicopters shuttled back and forth, evacuating officials in what appeared to be a tacit admission that the government could no longer hold pressure.The political collapse was swift and total. Ministers resigned in cascading waves, following the home minister, who had tendered his resignation the previous evening. Opposition parliamentarians abandoned their posts en masse, demanding fresh elections. By three o’clock in the afternoon, even K.P. Sharma Oli, in his third stint as prime minister and renowned for his political durability, announced his resignation and fled to Dubai.But resignation could not restore order. As the day moved, things spiralled completely out of control.This was no longer the Gen Z protestors of the previous day. In their place, an unruly mob surged through the streets. Outside Singha Durbar, Kathmandu’s sprawling government hub, protesters smashed windows, looted buildings, and seized weapons from the police as they pushed deeper into the complex. In the chaos, prisoners were freed, fires consumed the President’s residence, the Supreme Court alongside Parliament, and police stations burned alongside shops. The line between symbol and target had vanished. In just forty-eight hours, Nepal had witnessed its bloodiest civil unrest in modern memory, and the civilian government had unravelled before the nation’s eyes.“This is not us,” the Gen-Z groups leading the movement, Hami Nepal, posted on their social media. “Our struggle is for justice, dignity, and a better Nepal, not for chaos and theft.”Only well into the night, the Army chief appeared, urging restraint and calm. The military would be deployed to restore order.September 10All this upheaval would have been unimaginable even a month ago.A heavy, almost unnatural silence hung over the city. Curfew had been imposed, the streets were empty, and the Army patrolled in rigid lines. The roar of burning tires, the chants that shook walls, and the smoke that had choked the air yesterday had faded, leaving only a lingering haze and the metallic tang of uncertainty. Sunlight struggled through the smog, casting the streets in a dim, uneasy glow. The city felt suspended, caught between yesterday’s chaos and whatever tomorrow might bring, and we awoke with nothing but questions and the weight of uncertainty pressing down on every corner.The Nepal Army still mans checkpoints across Kathmandu, its soldiers stationed at every major intersection. Any gathering of more than a handful of people is broken up, an officer steps forward, offers an unmistakable “move on,” and the cluster dissolves.Questions hung in the air with the smoke. Who would answer for the bloodshed? Who now held authority? And in the absence of clear leadership, how would life move forward? The deaths of more than thirty protesters could not go unanswered. Yet even among those who had demanded change, the scale of destruction stirred unease. Nobody could say who truly held power, or what would come next.The revolution’s fever has broken; now comes the harder, less visible work. The only institutions left standing, the Presidency and the Army, have invited Gen-Z representatives to the table to sketch a path forward. But even in these early overtures, the Army’s hand is visible, its preferences for who might lead flickering through measured, strategic negotiation.Gen-Z in Nepal remains unmoored, bound more by digital fluency than by shared leadership or vision. Amid the chaos of Discord debates and clashing ideas, the movement is experimenting with ways to assert influence in a leaderless uprising. On a bustling Discord server, young protesters held their own vote for an interim leader, selecting Sushila Karki, Nepal’s first female Chief Justice. The proposal followed an extensive discussion on the platform, lasting nearly five hours, where over 10,000 participants shared their opinions. The server buzzed with debate, dissent, and deliberation, a digital agora where ideas clashed and alliances formed, revealing both the potential and uncertainties of a leaderless uprising. Other names, such as Balen Shah, Kathmandu’s independent mayor who rose from rapper to reform-minded politician, and Harka Sampang, Dharan’s grassroots-focused mayor, also surfaced in discussions, signalling the generation’s appetite for leaders who break from the recycled elite and embody accountability, visibility, and boldness. Though no formal appointment has been made, these debates offer a glimpse of a generation seeking new pathways, negotiating authority and vision in real time.This is the third great convulsion to shake South Asia since 2022—after Sri Lanka and Bangladesh—prompting some observers to whisper of a ‘South-Asian Spring,’ a phrase that carries the echo of the Arab Spring’s long shadow. The Nepali youth-led uprising has even borrowed the aesthetics of dissent from Indonesia as protesters waved the Straw Hat Pirates flag from One Piece, an emblem that has become a shared shorthand for rebellion in both countries. In Bangladesh, Sheikh Hasina’s government fell to similar youth-led protests just months earlier; in Sri Lanka, the 2022 uprising forced out the Rajapaksa dynasty. The same fault line ran across the region, crooked governments, restless citizens, and revolt spread across borders.Yet across and within these territories, the road ahead remains murky, the outcomes anything but certain. Bangladesh’s interim government struggles to reform entrenched systems. Sri Lanka’s new leadership has already retreated from promises that once stirred hope. These movements have excelled at toppling regimes but have struggled to build lasting alternatives.Nepal now faces the same daunting test its neighbours have confronted, struggling to turn a swell of popular fury into durable political reform rather than merely swapping one weary cadre of power brokers for another. Whether this generational uprising can finally crack the cycle of disappointment that has long defined South Asian politics, or whether it will join the list of movements that changed everything and nothing at all.September 11By Thursday morning, steady rain slicked Kathmandu’s streets, but the scars of upheaval were impossible to miss. Charred cars leaned against curbs, and the husks of looted buildings smouldered faintly under the drizzle. The capital was calm, almost eerily so, yet the quiet felt provisional, like a held breath. With the prime minister and his cabinet gone, Parliament effectively leaderless, and ministries shuttered, Nepal now stands without a functioning civilian government. The President and the Army, the only intact institutions, continue to act as de facto authorities, signalling interest in forming an interim arrangement. The old guard has vanished, leaving a power vacuum that multiple actors with competing interests are eager to fill. Political parties that seemed fractured just days ago are quietly regrouping, issuing statements of solidarity with Gen Z to distance themselves from their past complicity. Opportunists linger in the shadows, hoping to redirect the uprising’s momentum for personal gain. At the same time, misinformation spreads online, clouding clarity and amplifying confusion. Former Chief Justice Sushila Karki is seen as a frontrunner. Still, no consensus has been reached among protest groups, leaving the country in a state of suspended expectation.The old guard has vanished, leaving a power vacuum that multiple actors with competing interests are eager to fill. Political parties that seemed fractured just days ago are quietly regrouping, issuing statements of solidarity with Gen Z to distance themselves from their past complicity. Opportunists linger in the shadows, hoping to redirect the uprising’s momentum for personal gain. At the same time, misinformation spreads online, clouding clarity and amplifying confusion. After days of silence, Nepal’s President Ram Chandra Paudel issued a statement on Thursday assuring citizens that every effort is being made to navigate the crisis and find a way forward within the constitutional framework. Former Chief Justice Sushila Karki is seen as a frontrunner, but no consensus has been reached among protest groups, leaving the country in a state of suspended expectation."
}
]
}