, mostly Syrians fleeing civil war, sought asylum, Pau Aleikum Garcia was in Athens, helping those arriving in the Greek capital after a perilous sea journey.
The investigation reveals that British universities may not just be turning a blind eye to human rights abuses, but could also be at risk of training some of the abusers. Some universities have even partnered directly with overseas police forces known for widespread abuses to deliver in-country teaching. Others have welcomed individuals on to courses designed for serving security professionals from countries where torture is a standard tool of state control. All of this is happening with virtually no oversight of the risks to human rights.These are not abstract concerns. They raise serious, immediate questions. What happens when the covert surveillance techniques taught in British classrooms are later used to hunt down dissidents? Why are universities not investigating the backgrounds of applicants from regimes where “counterterrorism” is a common pretext for torture and arbitrary detention?
Freedom from Torture’s investigation found that universities across the UK are accepting applicants for security education from some of the world’s most repressive states. Yet just one university in the study said they are screening out applicants who they believed have either engaged in human rights violations or “intend to”.Torture survivors in the UK haveabout their shock that members of the security forces from countries they have fled can access UK security education without meaningful human rights checks. British universities, long considered beacons of liberal values and intellectual freedom, appear to be overlooking the fact that the knowledge they produce may be used to further oppression and state violence.
Meanwhile, student activists across the country are staunchly positioning themselves as stakeholders in their university’s human rights records. The recent Gaza protests indicate that that when students believe universities’ conduct does not align with their values, they won’t hesitate to hold them accountable.Across the world, the global student body has a rich history of activism. From anti-apartheid solidarity campaigns to the student protests that sparked Myanmar’s 1988 uprising, young people have long stood at the front lines of struggles against repression. Today’s generation – often described as the most socially conscious and globally connected in history – is no different. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to universities that their human rights performance is a hot topic for the young people they serve.
In the corporate world, businesses are now routinely judged on their human rights records. Terms like “ethical sourcing,” “responsible investment,” and “human rights due diligence” are standard parts of doing business. Universities, which pride themselves on being forward-thinking and socially responsible, should be held to no lower standard. The fact that many have no policy at all on overseas human rights risks is indefensible.
It’s time for that to change.While coffee was first introduced to the state in 1981 by the Coffee Board of India, a body set up by the Indian government to promote coffee production, it only began to take off after 2014.
Helped by government policy changes and pushed by a set of young entrepreneurs, Nagaland today has almost 250 coffee farms spread across 10,700 hectares (26,400 acres) of land in 11 districts. About 9,500 farmers are engaged in coffee cultivation, according to the state government. The small state bordering Myanmar today boasts of eight roastery units, besides homegrown cafes mushrooming in major cities like Dimapur and Kohima, and interior districts like Mokokchung and Mon.For Searon Yanthan, the founder of Juro Coffee House, the journey began with COVID-19, when the pandemic forced Naga youth studying or working in other parts of India or abroad to return home. But this became a blessing in disguise since they brought back value to the state, says Yanthan. “My father used to say, those were the days when we used to export people,” he told Al Jazeera. “Now it’s time to export our products and ideas, not the people.”
Like many kids his age, Yanthan left Nagaland for higher studies in 2010, first landing up in the southern city of Chennai for high school and then the northern state of Punjab for his undergraduate studies, before dropping out to study in Bangalore. “I studied commerce but the only subject I was good in was entrepreneurship,” said the 30-year-old founder, dressed in a pair of smart formal cotton pants and a baby pink polo neck shirt.The pandemic hit just as he was about to graduate, and Yanthan left with no degree in hand. One day, he sneaked into a government vehicle from Dimapur during the COVID-19 lockdown – when only essential services like medical and government workers were allowed to move around – to return to his family farm estate, 112km (70 miles) from state capital Kohima, where his dad first started growing coffee in 2015.