The air grew particularly suffocating between September and October 2025, when local authorities reported 122 cases of intoxication and asphyxiation caused by toxic fumes. Gas leaks from GCT’s facilities are widely blamed. 

On 15 October, the civil movement Stop Pollution mobilized 40,000 residents for a mass demonstration, followed by a general strike called by the national trade union UGTT, which drew more than 130,000 participants. The city of Gabès has around 150,000 citizens. 

The last protest took place on 17 December 2025, the anniversary of the 2011 Tunisian Revolution.

The Little Tunisian Chernobyl

Phosphate, one of Tunisia’s key natural resources, is largely destined for export. In 2023, Tunisia ranked as the world’s tenth-largest exporter of phosphate fertilizers, earning 61.7 million US dollars. The main destinations were Bangladesh, Brazil, France, Italy and the United Kingdom.

Phosphate fertilizers are widely used in intensive agriculture to boost crop yields. The practice can lead to the accumulation of toxic heavy metals such as cadmium in both soil and crops. And if these are the risks downstream, the dangers upstream are far greater. The combination of extractivism and export-oriented production has compromised Gabès as a whole, to the point that it is now dubbed the “Little Tunisian Chernobyl.” 

Today, the gulf the city overlooks is polluted by phosphogypsum, an industrial by-product of phosphoric acid production. It is generated by treating phosphate rock—extracted from the Gafsa mines, 150 kilometers from Gabès—with sulfuric acid. Studies have shown that phosphogypsum contains high levels of uranium and radium, both radioactive elements.

Dying Meadows of the Sea

According to a 2021 study by Oréade-Brèche on biodiversity loss in Tunisia, every ton of phosphoric acid produced generates between four and five tons of phosphogypsum. Over the past 25 years, an estimated 70 million tons of phosphogypsum have been discharged into the Gulf of Gabès, contaminating sediments across roughly 60 square kilometers. 

Marine flora and fauna have borne the brunt of this pollution. Combined with rising sea temperatures driven by climate change, the contamination is causing the progressive disappearance of Posidonia oceanica, a Mediterranean seagrass that serves as a vital refuge for fish species, crustaceans, and mollusks. 

Posidonia also plays a crucial ecological role: it helps prevent coastal erosion and oxygenates seawater by absorbing CO₂. These seagrass meadows account for 10% of the ocean’s carbon storage capacity—twice as much per square kilometer as terrestrial forests. 

At the beginning of the 20th century, the Gulf of Gabès hosted the largest Posidonia meadows in the Mediterranean; today, phosphogypsum discharges are estimated to have destroyed around 90% of them. In their place, the invasive alien algae Caulerpa has taken hold.

The disappearance of Posidonia has dealt a severe economic blow to small-scale fisheries, causing losses that exceed the added value of Gabès’ phosphate-processing industry.

Once known for its rich fisheries, the sea off Gabès is now grappling with a drastic decline in fish stocks. Pollution has coincided with industrial trawling by large fishing vessels, progressively stripping artisanal fishers of their livelihoods. 

Suffocating Protests

Moreover, as a 2018 European Commission study on the economic impact of industrial pollution in the region illustrates, there is a correlation between rising cases of chronic bronchitis and asthma in the neighborhoods of Ghannouch, Chott Essalem, and Gabès city, and the pollution generated by GCT’s activities.

Air pollution from sulfur dioxide, ammonia, fine particulate matter, and fluorides lies at the root of the region’s cases of intoxication and asphyxiation. According to the European Commission, concentrations of these substances near the GCT plant far exceed both Tunisian and international standards. 

Confronted with this reality, the people of Gabès began to raise their voices. Already in 2012, a group of residents founded Stop Pollution, a social movement demanding the dismantling of GCT’s polluting facilities. Since then, the group has organized protests, raised awareness, and informed the public on issues related to energy transition.

In 2017, the movement achieved its first major breakthrough: then–prime minister Youssef Chahed approved a plan to dismantle the six phosphate-processing units in Gabès and rehabilitate the sites in line with international standards. Yet the decision was never implemented. Instead, the government reversed course entirely.

Last March, the restricted Ministerial Council decided to raise phosphate production from under 3 million tons a year to 14 million by 2030, including expanded transport and processing capacity. The move comes amid a surge in global fertilizer prices. The plan also sets the stage for a pilot unit to produce green ammonia in Ghannouch. 

In 2024, Tunisia signed six memoranda of understanding (MoUs) with several European multinationals for the production of green hydrogen. The national green hydrogen strategy sets an annual production target of 8.3 million tons by 2050, with 6.3 million tons intended for export to Europe. This strategy has been supported since 2022 by the German Agency for International Cooperation (GiZ) through the project “Green Hydrogen for Sustainable Growth and a Low-Carbon Economy in Tunisia (H2Vert.TUN).” 

The exported hydrogen would be transported via the SoutH2 Corridor, which will connect Tunisia and Algeria to Italy, Austria, and Germany.

Environmental obstacles were swiftly sidestepped: phosphogypsum was removed from the list of substances classified as hazardous to human health.

Meanwhile, Gabès continues to suffer. On 17 October last year, Gabès’ citizens filed a petition before the Gabès First Instance Tribunal requesting the immediate closure of GCT’s polluting units. The preliminary hearing was scheduled for 23 October; however, the examination of the case has been postponed several times. 

The next hearing is expected to take place on 12 February. Assisted by the regional section of the Bar Association and the Regional Council of the Medical Association — which will present health data collected in Gabès — Stop Pollution and the people of Gabès have launched an unprecedented legal action. As Amir Ammar, a PhD student in Law, states in Village de la Justice, this is the first class action that “directly targets a major industrial actor (and a public one at that) in order to stop environmental harm in Tunisia.”

To understand what the people of Gabès endure each day—and how upcoming industrial projects could worsen the environmental crisis—we spoke with Aziz Chebbi, researcher in international law and political science, and activist with Stop Pollution.

Nadia Addezio: How have residents’ health and the state of the environment in Gabès changed over the years? 

Aziz Chebbi: Since 1972, since the Groupe Chimique Tunisien began operating in the Gabès region, the area has suffered environmental damage across three fronts: air, land and sea. First, marine pollution: phosphogypsum waste is discharged daily into the waters of Chott Essalem in Gabès. These discharges have had a direct impact on the livelihoods of local fishers, many of whom have lost their jobs and been forced to abandon a profession passed down through generations.

Then there is soil pollution: heavy metals in the land around Gabès have severely compromised local agriculture. The region’s emblematic oases have been deteriorating steadily, and farming activities have been deeply affected for more than 50 years. Finally, air pollution has taken a dramatic toll on residents’ health. The area records very high cancer rates, as well as frequent fainting episodes among students, especially in September and October.

Pollution across these three fronts devastates daily life in Gabès, undermining people’s health, their economy, and their dignity. Every day, residents simply aspire to breathe clean air and live in an environment that respects human dignity, as guaranteed by the principles of the Tunisian Constitution.

Between 2012 and 2017, numerous grassroots mobilizations helped secure a government decree—issued on 29 June 2017—ordering the dismantling of the polluting plants in the Gabès region. However, the decree was never published in the Official Gazette by the then-President of the Republic Béji Caïd Essebsi. As a result, the authorities failed to acknowledge the scale of the harm caused by the GCT and neither acted on nor upheld that decision.

Unfortunately, from 2017 to today, no government has shown real political will to enact or advance this measure. No significant progress has been made, leaving residents in a constant state of waiting for a sincere political commitment to environmental justice in Gabès.

NA: How did you respond to the government’s decision to revive phosphate production and remove phosphogypsum from the list of hazardous substances? Do you have any direct dialogue with the government or with the GCT?

AC: For years, the government has failed to consult civil society organizations or citizens when drafting its decisions and administrative decrees. In March 2025, it adopted a measure stating that phosphogypsum would no longer be classified as a hazardous substance, paving the way for its “valorization” and for the creation of a pilot plant to produce green ammonia. Faced with this decision—which we consider extremely worrying—we organized several demonstrations.

Because the announcement came during Ramadan, we held a protest in Tunis in April 2025, followed by a large march in the Gabès region in May. At the same time, we published statements and held several press conferences to spark public debate about these government decisions. We also carried out awareness campaigns among Gabès residents to explain the environmental and health risks associated with these policies. 

These efforts culminated in September 2025, a period marked by numerous fainting incidents among students and by heightened toxic emissions from the GCT’s facilities. More and more citizens are adopting our narrative and mobilizing with growing determination toward our shared goal: the complete dismantling of these polluting plants.

NA: The paradox is that the GCT provides jobs. What do GCT workers think? 

AC: In reality, GCT workers are themselves residents of the Gabès region, with children who attend local schools. During recent demonstrations, we noticed a significant development: a growing number of workers—through their unions or individually—support our actions and take part in mobilizations on the ground. Recently, there have even been fainting incidents among workers inside the GCT itself.

NA: As you mentioned, there is now talk of a possible green transition for the industrial hub. Among the proposed projects is the production of green ammonia, part of Tunisia’s national energy strategy and its plans for green hydrogen. How is this project perceived in Gabès? 

AC: There are two essential points on this issue. The first concerns our refusal, as a social movement, of any new installation within the Groupe Chimique Tunisien complex. Establishing a new entity on that site would mean completely disregarding the citizens’ core demand: the environmental rehabilitation of the Gabès region.

The second point concerns the national green hydrogen strategy, which includes the production of green ammonia. We view this strategy as a neo-colonial dynamic, imposed by GIZ, and designed exclusively to meet German energy needs. 

Berlin is seeking to externalize its energy production to countries in the Global South—Namibia, Tunisia, Morocco, Egypt—turning them into suppliers of green energy. Producing green ammonia requires green hydrogen, which demands vast amounts of water and renewable energy. It is an extremely energy-intensive process. Tunisia does possess abundant natural resources such as sun and wind, but these resources should meet our own energy needs, not feed German power grids.

Moreover, Tunisia currently has no real domestic demand for green hydrogen within its industrial sector. If, in the future, industries arise that require it, the decision should be made collectively, through a participatory process involving citizens, experts, and civil society, based on a transparent assessment of benefits and risks. It should not be dictated by a strategy conceived in ministerial offices in partnership with a German cooperation agency that has no stake in Tunisia’s needs or priorities.

This project is therefore not an opportunity but a real threat: it risks worsening the environmental crisis in Gabès, particularly through the seawater desalination projects required for green hydrogen production. The discharge of brine into the sea will have severe consequences for marine biodiversity and for numerous local species already weakened by decades of industrial pollution.

NA: What will be the collective’s next steps?

AC: So far, the public authorities have shown no reaction. In the face of this governmental silence, we will continue our mobilizations and maintain our demand for the dismantling of the polluting facilities in the Gabès region. Residents fully support our actions and share our demands. Every time we call for mobilization, the population responds. We will go all the way to obtain a clear political decision and a concrete response from the authorities, one that meets the legitimate expectations of the region’s inhabitants.

Gabès could be a paradise on earth: the oasis system that surrounds the sea, the mountains and the desert is an exceptional national heritage that must be preserved and valued. Alternatives do exist. Agricultural development, ecological and community-based tourism, and activities linked to the sea can offer new, sustainable job opportunities.

The GCT, by contrast, brings nothing but harm and threats to the environment and health of the Gabès region. The current jobs tied to this industry can be replaced by local, sustainable and non-colonial economic alternatives.

The post Gabès Is Suffocating: Breathing Under Phosphate, Protest, and Green Colonialism appeared first on Untold.

The mass mobilizations challenged autocratic structures, thereby disrupting or attempting to disrupt hegemonic state-society relations and catalyzing a shift towards participatory contestation and demands for democratic reform. 

The new context of heightened socio-political volatility was exploited by regime elites and non-state actors, particularly fascist and fundamentalist factions, to proliferate discourses based on othering, social conservatism and ultra-nationalism often reinforced through securitization regimes, the proliferation of digital surveillance, and restrictive legislation. 

What emerges is a form of digital fascism: the algorithmic extension of state power that invisibly shapes public discourse, weaponizes data and not only silences dissent but also “preemptively works to erase the very possibility of rebellion”.

Social media, Hate Speech and Anti-Black Violence in Tunisia 

Anti-rights ideologies in the SWANA region, including anti-immigrant and xenophobic rhetoric, are interconnected with far-right currents in the global north, as seen for example in the alignment between Tunisian President Kaïs Saïed and Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni. This ideological synergy is reinforced through formal political cooperation: Meloni’s visits to Tunis and EU-led negotiations on “enhanced cooperation on migration management” illustrate how European powers leverage Tunisia’s economic and political vulnerabilities to outsource border control. 

In practice, these anti-rights ideologies are not merely rhetorical: they translate into concrete state-sanctioned repression. While Meloni has mobilized fears of demographic change and the influx of ‘illegal’ immigration to consolidate power in Italy, President Kaïs Saied has adapted parallel narratives to target Black African migrants within Tunisia. 

Saied’s racist and xenophobic rhetoric, including his February 2023 speech describing “hordes of irregular migrants from Sub-Saharan Africa” as part of a criminal plan to alter Tunisia’s demographics, triggered widespread anti-Black violence, with mobs attacking migrants and asylum seekers and police complicit in arbitrary arrests and deportations. Social media amplified these narratives, providing platforms for hate speech and conspiratorial ideologies, particularly those propagated by groups like the Tunisian Nationalist Party. The combination of state-sanctioned incitement, online amplification, and impunity for perpetrators has created an environment where egregious anti-Black violence is normalized.

One of the most critical issues fueling technoviolence is the inadequacy of content moderation systems, especially those relying heavily on automation. In the region, the linguistic complexity of dialects such as the Maghrebi Arabic dialects confounds these systems. Internal Facebook surveys reveal that only 6% of hate speech in the SWANA region was detected by Instagram’s automated moderation. Such a failure could be explained, as per the findings of Mona Elswah’s 2024 report Moderating Maghrebi Arabic Content on Social Media, by the lack of diversity in natural language processing teams that develop automated content moderation systems at social media companies, combined with insufficient training datasets for Maghrebi Arabic dialects and the recruitment of non-native annotators.

Livestreaming Death in Sudan

In the meantime, Meta has become even less safe. In early 2025, CEO Mark Zuckerberg unveiled a series of policy changes including the “simplification” of content policies, removing restrictions on topics such as immigration and gender, ending its third-party fact-checking program, and relaxing its filtering algorithms. While these changes were framed as promoting free expression, Amnesty International echoed the warnings of various human rights experts who have raised concerns about Meta’s role in fuelling mass violence and genocide in fragile and conflict-affected societies. Researchers have highlighted that these rollbacks could be particularly dangerous in fragile democracies and conflict contexts, where the absence of fact-checking and robust moderation allows political actors, state-backed influencers, and coordinated campaigns to exploit social media for harassment, racialized violence, and disinformation.

A recent investigation by Sudanese independent platform Beam Reports revealed how the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) in Sudan are using TikTok to glorify atrocities during the genocide in Darfur. Following the takeover of Al-Fashir, RSF fighters committed widespread massacres and civilian-targeted violence have occurred, with fighters like the notorious commander “Abu Lulu” openly boasting on TikTok Live about killing thousands. These livestreams, often featuring RSF uniforms and direct claims of violence, attract thousands of viewers who send virtual gifts and comments praising the attacks. Clips are then reshared across TikTok, Facebook, X (Twitter), and Telegram. 

TikTok’s platform and algorithms have played a central role in amplifying these atrocities. Despite earlier warnings from Sudalytica in May 2025 about monetized hate speech and propaganda networks, the company has mostly failed to remove accounts or moderate content in Sudan. According to Beam Reports co-founder Raghd Orsud, while TikTok has banned RSF commander Abu Lulu’s account following the report, the broader harm persists, as months of atrocity-glorifying and hate content spread unchecked. Orsud clarifies how a single takedown is insufficient and calls for systemic action: “TikTok must deploy moderation teams fluent in Sudanese Arabic, establish a crisis-response channel for Sudan, preserve and securely archive violating content for accountability while preventing further spread, and proactively block re-uploads”.

The Complicity of Big Tech in Palestine 

In Palestine, researchers and digital rights advocates have documented a longstanding pattern of systemic censorship and bias on Meta platforms, which disproportionately removes Palestinian content while under-moderating hate speech and dehumanizing rhetoric targeting Palestinians, as 7amleh and Sada Social reported. This includes the deletion of posts documenting war crimes, photos of victims, and even content flagged simply for including Palestinian symbols, while similar content from Israeli sources often remains untouched. As documented by Palestinian organizations 7amleh and Sada Social, and highlighted in the 2021 Business for Responsibility (BSR) report and subsequent advocacy by the Stop Silencing Palestine coalition, these practices are embedded within the company’s algorithms and policies, reinforced by high compliance with Israeli government takedown requests. 

A more recent report by 7amleh criticizes Meta for failing to adequately protect Palestinians from incitement and hate speech in Hebrew. It highlights that Meta’s policies are biased and have contributed to enabling harmful discourse during Israel’s genocidal actions in Gaza. The report also points out Meta’s disregard for the provisional measures issued by the International Court of Justice on January 26, 2024, which explicitly called for preventing and punishing “direct and public incitement to commit genocide”.

Social media platforms’ role is embedded in the “Empire stack”, where Big Tech operates in tandem with state power, extending digital forms of domination. This alliance merges with the interests of the military-industrial complex, and in the SWANA region, technologies are not only tested on marginalized populations but also generate enormous profit, as these tools are then marketed and exported to governments and security agencies around the world. 

The region has been both a laboratory and a lucrative marketplace for powerful corporations, profiting from the global circulation of surveillance systems, predictive policing tools, and AI-enabled warfare technologies, a dynamic that has fueled the accelerating AI arms race, where innovations tested in the region are deployed worldwide in both military and civilian contexts.

Silicon Valley has been actively enabling Israel’s occupation and genocide of Palestinians by recruiting Unit 8200 veterans, investing in Israeli surveillance and AI-driven military technologies, and integrating these tools into global cloud and cybersecurity infrastructure. Grassroots worker-led advocacy initiatives such as No Tech for Apartheid and NoAzure for Apartheid have emerged to challenge the complicity of Big Tech in apartheid, settler-colonialism and genocide particularly in Palestine, calling on companies like Microsoft, Google, and Amazon to end all ties to the Israeli military.

In August 2025, an investigation by the Guardian, +972 Magazine, and Local Call revealed that Israel’s Unit 8200 was using Microsoft’s Azure cloud to collect and analyze vast amounts of Palestinian phone communications in Gaza and the West Bank. Following the report and protests by human rights organizations and the No Azure for Apartheid campaign, Microsoft announced on September 25 that it had suspended certain subscriptions and access to its cloud and AI services for the military unit while reviewing the allegations. 

While Microsoft’s decision to disable specific Israeli military subscriptions and services in response to the Guardian’s reporting was welcomed by human rights NGOs as a positive step, it remains insufficient. The organizations have called on Microsoft to conduct a comprehensive review of all its business relationships with Israeli government and military bodies, suspend or terminate any products or services contributing to human rights abuses, increase transparency about its due diligence and the scope of its review, and rigorously apply its AI and acceptable use policies to ensure it does not become complicit in mass surveillance, targeting of civilians, or other violations of international law. 

However, efforts to hold Big Tech accountable remain limited, as documents published in October 2025 revealed that when Google and Amazon negotiated a major $1.2 billion cloud contract with the Israeli government in 2021 (Project Nimbus), they agreed to extraordinary terms, including a secret “winking mechanism”, intended to circumvent legal obligations in other countries while ensuring uninterrupted access for Israeli government and security agencies. Another recent example comes from internal Meta documents shared by whistleblowers, which show that the company repeatedly downplayed and buried research demonstrating the harmful effects of its platforms further highlighting the depth of Big Tech complicity in human rights abuses and the limitations of accountability and tech justice efforts.

In the words of Nadine Moawad, in a region like SWANA, “tech policy problems are compounded with a litany of daily struggles, most devastating of these being occupation, war, conflict, and displacement which affects, we sometimes forget, two billion people, a quarter of the world’s population. People Like Us are often, sadly, irrelevant to or tokenized in global policy”.

The post Targeted by Design: Technoviolence, Xenophobia, and Algorithmic Injustice in SWANA appeared first on Untold.

He explains to us that climatic shifts have caused severe drought problems. “That’s why I had to find a solution to ease the anxiety caused by the lack of rain,” Al-Hajam tells us. The solution he embraced was to plant carob trees, among the other crops cultivated on his land. 

This hardy species, which has thrived in the Mediterranean for over 4,000 years, offers several advantages. One of them is its minimal water requirement for irrigation, as well as its extremely low dependency on agricultural inputs, such as fertilisers and pesticides, due to its natural resistance to diseases and pests. The carob tree takes 5 to 10 years to bear its fruit, a brown and curved pod. While this delay might seem like a disadvantage for farmers who must wait years before harvesting and selling the crop, Al-Hajam views it as a long-term investment. In fact, from his perspective, it will allow him to adapt to climate change and its related phenomena, like drought. 

A possible solution

According to a 2023 report by the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO), in 42 years of daily rainfall observations in the North of the country, 22 droughts were recorded. These events lasted from a minimum of 30 days to a maximum of 82 days. By 2050, Tunisia is expected to face longer and more frequent droughts. 

“Water scarcity is the primary issue, as it is the most crucial factor for plant growth,” thunders the farmer, fully aware of the intense impact this phenomenon is having on his country. However, he looks pleased, even relieved, by the new agricultural venture. He tells that he joined the Cx6 – Corridor Caroubier Capte Carbone et Changement Climatique, a project guided by the Tunisian association Les Amis de CAPTE (“Collective of Actors for Planting and Environmental Transition”), which brings together farmers, landowners, and state institutions, such as the General Directorate of Forests. 

The goal of Cx6 is to promote the planting of carob trees to address climate change-related phenomena, such as soil erosion and drought, seeking to support small and medium Tunisian farmers. Moreover, it intends to help the regeneration of public, abandoned lands exposed to wildfires and deforestation. 

In the case of Al-Hajam, CAPTE’s support has been in the form of technical knowledge – such as how to prepare the soil for planting carob trees – as well as nurseries, equipment to protect the young saplings, and tools for “greffage”: grafting buds from female trees onto male (naturally unproductive) trees to make them bear fruit. The financial support the farmer received comes from the PPI OSCAN 3 programme of the environmental network International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN-MED), which funded the whole Cx6 project and facilitated carob tree plantations in several areas of the Bizerte governorate.

Water trouble

Hekma Achour, 39, coordinator of PPI OSCAN, observes with admiration as the carobs grow alongside the other crops in the Al-Hajam’s farmland. Achour, who specialised in International water resource law, is deeply convinced of the significance of the Cx6 project. She elucidates that “Planting trees helps improve water infiltration and increases evaporation, which in turn encourages rainfall.” In her opinion, promoting an agricultural model that enhances groundwater recharge by increasing soil water absorption has become imperative.

A recent study published in the scientific journal Nature, shows that groundwater levels are dropping globally at an accelerating rate in the past 40 years. The study attributes this acceleration to unsustainable agricultural and irrigation practices that deplete the reserves, as well as to climate change, especially droughts. 

In this regard, the National Observatory of Agriculture (Onagri) reports in its latest study from 2022, that Tunisia’s total use of underground water resources – both phreatic (shallow) and deep – reached an overall overexploitation rate of 139% that year. While the overexploitation rate of phreatic aquifers exceeds 110%, deep aquifers are being exploited at a staggering 150%. 

According to the study, intensive agriculture, driven by monocultures and the excessive use of pesticides and chemical additives, is the sector that draws the most water from deep aquifers (82%), with 40% of its water withdrawals being illegal. As for the governorate of Bizerte, which recorded the lowest level of rainfall in the past decade (349.4 cubic millimeters in 2022), its phreatic aquifer has been officially designated a “protected zone.”

“That’s why I decided to rethink my farming model and replace it with a more diversified approach,” states Imed Ouadhour, 50, president of the Bizerte section of the Farmers’ Union (SYNAGRI) and an agricultural entrepreneur. Ouadhour is deeply concerned about the dwindling water resources in his region. The overexploitation of aquifers has also led to seawater intrusion, causing soil salinisation, a process that significantly reduces soil fertility. 

Protecting the soil

Ouadhour has become convinced not only to cultivate carob trees but also to transform his farm in El Azid, nearly 20 kilometers from Aousja, into an agroforestry system: a natural agricultural practice involving the simultaneous cultivation of perennial tree and/or shrub species, arable crops, and pastures on the same plot of land. Indeed, agroforestry is the broader goal of the CAPTE association. The key word is enriching biodiversity by adopting several types of crops.

This is exactly what we find on Ouadhour’s estate, where lemon, olive, and carob trees as well as lentils, vegetables, sheep, and cattle, are carefully arranged at appropriate distances.

“Through carob cultivation, we have sought to address the problem of soil erosion by stabilising degraded land,” expounds Ghada Kortass, 27, an agronomist and member of CAPTE. 

Tunisia is particularly vulnerable to both wind and water-driven erosion, and soil degradation too. In fact, 3 million hectares of land are erosion-exposed, with 50% of them in critically severe conditions. 

Conventional monoculture farming, which focuses on maximum soil exploitation for optimised production, is a key contributor to this degradation: “This has accelerated the negative impacts of climate change,” emphasises Wajdi Dhib, 29, agricultural engineer and CAPTE project manager. “Soil is not just a medium for planting; it is a living ecosystem, rich in essential microorganisms that sustain its fertility. The chemical products’ use renders it inert, lifeless,” he adds. 

Wildfires and reforestation 

When soil is degraded, it loses cohesion, becomes brittle, and is carried away by wind and water. It also loses its ability to retain moisture, a condition that may contribute to the outbreak of wildfires. According to Global Forest Watch, wildfires in Tunisia led to the disappearance of 26,100 hectares of tree cover from 2001 to 2023. Over the same period, the Bizerte governorate recorded the highest rate of tree cover loss, amounting to approximately 431 hectares lost per year.

“Even if it burns, the carob tree has the ability to regenerate naturally thanks to its deep roots,” explains Edouard Jean, 40, co-founder of CAPTE, motivating the need for carob tree plantations as part of reforestation efforts. We see it over the Djebel Nadhour, a 291-meter-high hill that overlooks the azure waters of Ghar El Melh lagoon in the Bizerte governorate.

The agroforestry consultant from southern France leads us through the Nadhour forest that graces the hill. He explains that this forest site has been included in the Cx6 project to react to the summer wildfires that have been burning here for several years now and regenerate this naturally rich area.

Jean takes us through Aleppo pines, acacias, spiny oaks, and junipers, warning to tread carefully over rocky ground, mindful not to step into furrows. Indeed, the risk is crushing the young carob trees. “We planted them last January,” recalls Jean. Last year, Les Amis de CAPTE planted 1,000 carob trees in a collaborative reforestation effort in which the NGO Tounes Clean-Up and the collective Soli & Green took part. Now, we glimpse at these young carob trees scattered among roots and rocks of various sizes. 

A regional approach

While the agroforestry consultant inspects the delicate, newborn leaves with a keen eye, he reveals that the idea of planting carob trees came from local farmers like Chiheb Ouali. Actually, Ouali was a pioneer of innovative practices, such as the cultivation of this evergreen tree, and member of the legume family. 

The decisive meeting happened while Edouard Jean was completing his internship at the Tunisian Association for Environmental Agriculture (ATAE) in El Menzah, a residential urban area in northern Tunis. May Granier, 82, founder of ATAE, explains the choice of the association’s name: “We chose the term ‘environmental agriculture’ because we believe that agriculture must integrate into the broader ecosystem without harming the environment.” 

ATAE aspires to raise awareness among Tunisian farmers about the relevance of adopting so-called “good agricultural practices”, strategies based primarily on a deep understanding of the specific characteristics of each soil type in order to prevent it from undergoing stress. One such practice is never leaving the soil bare: “If you measure the temperature of uncovered soil in the middle of July, it can reach 70-80°C. At those temperatures, no microorganism can survive,” Granier points out.

Agroforestry is a form of environmental agriculture as well as an agroecologic vision. This agricultural practice could help not only Tunisia but all Mediterranean countries, which are among the hardest hit by drought, soil salinisation, erosion, land degradation, and wildfires, as reported in The state of soils in Europe by the European Commission’s Joint Research Centre. 

Moreover, as Konstantin Mantzanas, Greece’s delegate to the European Agroforestry Federation (EURAF) and secretary of the Greek Agroforestry Network, illustrates: “Agroforestry systems can sequester between 1 and 12 tons of carbon per hectare per year, generate yields 30% higher than monocultures, and mitigate the nitrification process caused by the intensive use of nitric acid-based fertilizers. Finally, they can contribute to job security in Mediterranean regions, helping counteract rural depopulation.”

Agribusiness and exploitation

Indeed, agroforestry is becoming increasingly central to the EU’s environmentally friendly schemes. In 2022, the European Commission launched ReForest, a project that aims to ensure food production while maintaining ecological sustainability through agroforestry systems. ReForest is a component of the larger EU-funded initiative for research and innovation Horizon Europe, budgeted 95.5 billion euros. 

Despite these good intentions, the EU often plays a key role in unfriendly environmental practices driven by agribusiness companies. According to a coalition of NGOs, the EU has contributed to deforestation by consuming products sourced from degraded land and financing companies that have profited from such exploitation. In fact, between 2016 and early 2023, EU financial institutions provided 22.1% of the total global credit to key actors in sectors posing risks to ecosystems, and they currently continue to supply 9.4% of global investments.

The EUDR was originally set to take effect at the end of 2024, but due to agribusiness companies’ lobbying, its implementation was postponed to the end of the current year. One such company is the American food multinational Cargill which operates also as a member of several European trade associations that oppose positive climate policy, such as FoodDrinkEurope.

Cargill also takes part in the American Chamber of Commerce to the EU (AmCham EU) and is currently involved in opposing the EU Supply Chain Directive (CSDDD). The latter came into force last July and aims to regulate the behavior of large corporations and their management of human rights and environmental impacts across the entire value chain. While Italy, Germany, and France tried since the beginning to block the CDDDS, the European Commission has now expressed the intention to simplify the bureaucratic process— a declaration that seems to favor the interests of corporations and EU countries with inadequate national regulations.

On its website Cargill claims that it is publicly committed to addressing deforestation with some regenerative agriculture programmes, like the agroforestry cocoa system in Côte d’Ivoire, the world’s leading cocoa producer. At the same time, however, as reported by Mighty Europe, Cargill contributed to the illegal clearing of protected forests and national parks in the West African country, converting them into cocoa farms, and purchasing and selling goods cultivated there. 

“The good, the bad and the ugly”

This situation exemplifies what is referred to as “Bad agroforestry”—or “Agrobizforestry”—: an industrial-scale approach, typically involving minimal crop diversity or simple crop rotations with limited space between. The article, Agroforestry Transitions: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, also describes “Ugly agroforestry” —or “Agrodeforestry” — as the practice where primary forests are burned to make way for an agroforestry system with a highly limited variety of crops but with market appeal. 

For those looking for profit and targeting to get EU funds, agroforestry can become a driver of deforestation rather than its solution. And generally leads to the phenomenon of “green land grabbing”—the appropriation of land and resources for environmental purposes through colonial-like mechanisms. 

As a reminder, Cargill has been labeled by the NGO Mighty Earth as “The Worst Company in the World” due to its leading role in deforestation worldwide. Despite that, it has received €34,865 for attending the Horizon Europe grant programme, while its Study Center – Cargill R&D Centre Europe – has obtained €262,620.

It is crystal clear that everything outlined so far directly contrasts with the bottom-up approach led in Tunisia by Les Amis de CAPTE. The association is, in fact, striving to chart an alternative path for environmental protection and the future of small and medium farmers, which are placed at the centre and encouraged to cooperate, both within the North African country and across the broader Mediterranean region. 

This approach serves as a counter to competition and the “Go big or go home” mentality, offering a more effective way to tackle climate change. If the agroforestry model envisioned by CAPTE is at risk of being influenced by the agribusiness mindset, Edouard Jean emphasises: “Our vision is to plant trees with sufficient spacing to allow for intercropping. This means agricultural land used for cereals or vegetables should not be taken out of production to plant trees. We’re not creating massive orchards of 1,000 hectares, but small orchards integrated with olive trees and other often-overlooked crops.”

The post The battle for Tunisia’s water, soil and forests: Local solutions for climate resilience appeared first on Untold.

Disclaimer: this article contains testimonies that some of our readers may find disturbing or upsetting

When I was young, I once asked my mother about that frowning blindfolded woman we see every time we pass by a courthouse. She told me that it is the blind justice that does not differentiate between people. Back then, my mind could not comprehend the value of the idea. I could not evocate any practical example of this voluntary blindness, except in my school, where the whole class used to be punished when chaos prevailed.

I was raped, at knifepoint, inside my house in 2018. The perpetrator was arrested and sentenced to prison. At the time, many asked me, with smiling faces glowing with relief: “Aren’t you happy that the criminal was punished?” 

The smile turned soon into surprise and disappointment, when I told them that happiness was not a feeling I would sense for a long time. They quickly asked me in disapproval: “Don’t you feel the victory to achieve justice and restore your right?” The word truth thus entered, like the word justice, in the dictionary of vocabularies that confuse me. My “right”, as I understand it, is to live in a world without the possibility of being raped in my own home. Imprisoning my rapist or even hanging him will not bring that to me retroactively. As for the victory, the officer who arrested the criminal, or the prosecutor who succeeded in imprisoning him may feel it. Even my friends, beloved ones, followers of the case, and readers of these lines may have felt it. As for my rapist and me –the main protagonists of the story–, we both loss a heavy loss.

Later, I published an article with my reflections on my rape incident, in  August 2020. I pointed out that the access to justice depends on power balance between the perpetrator and the victim, as well as their positionality of both the perpetrator and the victim in power balance. As soon as the article was out, I faced a violent attack on social media. I was blamed – me, the rape victim– with a series of accusations ranging from justifying the rape and minimizing its severity, to having Stockholm Syndrome and a bourgeois guilt complex, of intimidating women from reporting, and finally of standing in the way of “justice”. This campaign against me left in me a slight nervous breakdown, and more confusion regarding the concept of “justice”.

A month earlier, in July 2020, the now famous Fairmont case burst out, after a video of a gang rape committed by a group of wealthy family kids circulated. Under public pressure that stirred up on social media, the Public Prosecution Office decided to open an investigation into the incident. In addition, in an unprecedented move, the National Council for Women published a statement calling on the victim and witnesses to come forward to collaborate with the “justice” system and testify. It even promised not to subject them to any legal accountability if they disclose their identities, ensuring their protection against any ill-treatment. Amid the feminist celebration of what was considered a great victory (as this was the first time in history that there NCW was coming-out to defend victims of rape), and the coming restoration of the victim’s rights, we learned that the prosecution detained the witnesses, and charged them with debauchery after searching their phones and seeing their personal photos unrelated to the case. Not only, but while the witnesses were arrested and accused, the original defendants (the ones that hadn’t already fled the country) were released for lack of sufficient evidence, and the case was closed in 2021. 

I was right about justice then, but, of course, no one apologized. No one remembers you once your case is over, we move on to the next one.

In December 2020, A few months after publishing my “infamous” article, the blog “Daftar Hekayat” published 6 anonymous testimonies accusing the film-director Islam el-Azzazy of a series of violations and power abuse, including harassment and rape. When I posted on Facebook that I was aware of the truthfulness of two of the testimonies, and that I knew the testifiers personally, I received vast acclaims from the same social media audience that stigmatized me for Stockholm syndrome and obstruction of justice a few months earlier. On the other hand, the director asked his accusers to address their complaints to the “justice”. He even filed a lawsuit against me. Suddenly, I found myself brought to “justice”. It was the same “justice” that ruled to fine, before me, my friend Rasha Azab ten thousand pounds on charges of insulting Islam el-Azzazy, because she spoke publicly about the testimonies against him. This “justice” sentenced me to the maximum penalty, a 50 thousand pounds fine and a 20 thousand pounds compensation, because I “violated the values of the Egyptian family, deliberately disturbed the “victim” [ironically referring to el-Azzazi with this name] and disclosed personal information about him without his permission!” This “justice” also stated in its merits that it disregarded the veracity or mendacity of the allegations mentioned in my statement. This “justice” doesn’t care to verify whether el-Azzazy was a rapist or not, as long as I confessed my heinous crime, which is writing on Facebook.

These accidents raise some question about the possibility to pursue “justice” by resorting to the state and its mechanisms, through legal tracks and judicial system. However, even if we consider the alternative paths suggested by the rise of #MeToo, we find that the concept of justice is equally confusing and perhaps disturbing. In Egypt, in November 2017, an email circulated where a former employee of a civil society organization, accused the head of the organization, who was also a presidential candidate at the time, of sexual harassment and abuse of power. She also accused one of the former organization employees of rape during the same year. Her e-mail, which was sent to a mailing list including dozens of human rights activists in Egypt, started a new trend of sharing testimonies about sexual harassment, both anonymously and non-anonymously. At that time, the e-mail author confirmed her reluctance to legal recourse or to cooperate with internal investigation committees. 

I was right about justice then, but, of course, no one apologized. No one remembers you once your case is over, we move on to the next one.

However, as soon as the e-mail came out on social media, calls for “justice” went viral, regardless of whether the processes aimed by these demands were against the complainant’s wishes. For several weeks, some voices demanded the cancelling and shunning of the accused at any cost. Others cried out that it is a conspiracy against the opposition’s sole representative. Meanwhile, the members of the political party of the accused person decided to proceed with the investigation procedures despite the complainant’s refusal to participate in their pursuit of justice. Voices shrieked accusing these party members of complicity with the accused, staging a mock investigation, and the reproduction of reactionary mechanisms that will not bring justice to the complainant. At the same time, the incident’s witnesses exchanged fiery posts, recounting the details of the incident from their angle, whether out of conscience or to disclaim responsibility. Although the word “justice” was resonating here and there, the space dedicated to the complainant, her eligibility, desire, and integrity in all these discourses, was diminishing and even entirely disappearing.

Clearly, the fact that one of the defendants was an opposition presidential candidate in a broader political context where the civil and democratic forces were concerned about the victory of a military candidate (as it then happened), was a crucial factor in the scale of the hustle surrounding the case, and the direction it took in the public debate. However, the way people reacted to this case shares commonalities with similar cases which broke out over the following years.

In all these cases the same strategy of publishing testimonies, whether anonymous or not, and publicly shaming the perpetrator of the abuse was employed. Voices have been raised, calling for punishing the accused, whether by exposing, boycotting, or dismissing them. Sometimes this escalated into demanding to boycott whoever had a close or distant relation to them. Meanwhile, other voices have demanded internal investigation and accountability committees, and some wondered how to “encourage” the accusers to file official complaints. Others have cut-it short and demanded the Public Prosecutor to investigate the case in order to punish the guilty and set an example.

But the main thing that all these cases have in common is that they show that, apparently, there is an implicit agreement among all parties that justice is something subsequent to the incident. In this regard, this approach aligns with the state’s concept of justice. Whether by appealing to the police and the judiciary or using alternative mechanisms such as independent commissions of inquiry or shaming and boycotting campaigns, this approach assumes that justice is served by holding the perpetrator accountable or punishing him first, and then compensating the victim – if possible. However, even this last aspect is often absent since it is widely assumed that the perpetrator’s punishment per se is a compensation for the victim and a restoration of her rights. The deeper aspect of this approach is perceiving justice as an abstract meaning, with semi-sacred qualities, which goes beyond being a goal that we strive to achieve, to restore people’s rights. Justice here is a sacred collective right that transcends the parties to the case. Just like the state that prosecutes and imprisons the perpetrator even if the victim decides to forgive him. Hence, justice turns from something that the “group” seeks to achieve to redress injustice befallen on one of them, into a legitimate right of the “group”. This right must be achieved, albeit at the expense of the victim and her desires.

Let’s take the case of the e-mail accusing the presidential candidate in 2017 as an example once again. Although the plaintiff’s asserted her reluctance to go down the route of committees and investigations, party members decided to convene a committee and open an investigation without her. They did that out of a sincere sense of responsibility to achieving “justice”, even if the result was weak and frustrating, of course, due to the absence of the complainant and the main witness in the case. The latter’s testimony needed to be tied to the outcome of this investigation. The importance of “achieving” justice thus exceeded the plaintiff’s desire and right to choose.

Although the word “justice” was resonating here and there, the space dedicated to the complainant, her eligibility, desire, and integrity in all these discourses, was diminishing and even entirely disappearing.

Let’s take my own case, when I was raped at knifepoint, I made a conscious decision not to report the rape and just report the armed robbery. I made this decision for two reasons. The first was due to my principles, as I am against the death penalty. I did not want to risk the rapist getting the maximum penalty for armed rape. The second reason was that I did not want to expose myself to the horror and indignity of a forensic examination to prove the rape. Despite my asserted concerns, some friends did not hesitate to try to convince me to report the rape,. Hundreds of commentators on social media did not hesitate to attack me and criticize me after I published my article for letting the criminal “evade justice”. Justice means inflicting on him the maximum possible punishment, even if this punishment is death penalty that I am against. Even if that means that I would have to undergo an examination by a group of doctors – as if the violation of my body and my dignity was not enough. They would therefore violate my body again in the name of “Justice”, while asking me if I am a “Miss or Madame”.

By the same token, when an anonymous sexual violence testimony circulates, demands for justice and the arrest of the perpetrator are raised. Some even take the initiative and address the General Prosecutor’s Office to open the official investigation, heedless to the opinion of the concerned person. This is regardless of her desire and willingness to delve into that path, with all what it entails in terms of medical examination, investigations, interrogations, questioning and moral violation, in addition to the possibility of putting her life in danger. 

The reality is that we live in a narrow-minded, conservative society that blames the victim and accuses her of adultery, and we are ruled by a regime that imprisons witnesses for debauchery. Nobody ponders that the testifier can in fact opt not to report, and rather chose to remain anonymous. No one considers the possibility that she does not want her family to know what happened, because this may expose her to physical and psychological harm, deprive her of free movement, or endanger her own life. No one thinks of her fear of revenge. No one ponders, not because we are evil or careless, but because we have been trained to think of justice as in itself a lofty goal and a glorious cause. It therefore must be achieved even if it is against the victims’ will.

I would like to underline that I am not asking to phase out the state’s formal justice system. I don’t even believe that it is possible or logical to avoid it completely in the world we live in. I am neither calling for letting the violators without some kind of accountability or punishment. However, I would not “encourage” anyone to resort to the state, just like I will not “encourage” anyone to publish their testimony, expose a harasser, or appear in front of a committee to achieve “justice”. I would not encourage them because the choice is theirs alone, and there is no single correct way suitable for everyone. What I would do in return, if one of them faced some kind of violence, and asks for my opinion on resorting to the state, publishing their testimony, or requesting the formation of a committee to investigate, is to provide them with full transparency on the advantages and disadvantages of each mechanism. They will thus be able to make an informed decision, as they are the only one who will bear the consequences. Most of us will forget the whole thing and move on with our lives after “justice takes its course” and the perpetrators receive their punishment. Had the victim/survivor chosen to remain silent, or to forgive, or to do nothing at all, I would not hold them responsible for the others whom the offender might violate in the future because “they have let him get away with it”. Victims/survivors are not tools for us to use to achieve justice and purify the society.

It is understandable to consider justice as a lofty goal for the public interest. It makes us feel comfortable thinking we completed the mission when every criminal receives his punishment and becomes an example. However, the holy war for justice and the purification of society is based on the assumption that the offenders are corrupted individuals who broke the approved code. This assumption contradicts the idea that power imbalance, which results in different forms of violence and discrimination, is a systemic matter. Confronting it requires more than punishing or holding accountable the violence perpetrator.   There is no doubt that we all proceed from a sincere desire for a safer, fairer and more equal world. There is no doubt that we are forced to confront the world with our backs to the wall. We live under regimes that benefit from power imbalance and feed it, regimes that are reluctant or fail to play their institutional role in protecting us. They even may pose a threat to us, forcing us to play their role within our circles. We thus form committees, investigate, rule, hold accountable, and punish, as if alternative justice means that our independent departments implement traditional justice instead of the state. Perhaps then, what we need is to untie the blindfold Justice to achieve an insightful justice able to see the subtlest differences rather than being blind to them. We need to try to think of justice as a tool- not as an abstract and lofty goal – and to develop it as a collective responsibility both within our close circles and broader societies. This might be possible if we constantly rethink of our role in creating spaces where violence is less likely to occur in the first place, rather than dealing with it only retrospectively.

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