Luanda, the largest city in Angola, is home to over 10 million people. In addition to being the capital, it is the economic and industrial center of Angola, serving as the primary gateway for international business in the country. Despite this, there are on average only 27 flights departing from the city a day. In contrast, the city of Hyderabad, India, which has a comparable population of 11 million, hosts almost 300 departing flights daily. This pattern is reflected across the African continent, wherein large cities have significantly fewer daily flights than their similarly sized Indian counterparts. Kinshasa has 15 compared to Kolkata’s 204, Lagos has 72 while Bangalore has 388, and Dar es Salaam has only 40 whereas Ahmedabad has 137.

Flights are the primary means of international travel across long distances. People travel for business, leisure, and to visit friends and family. They represent tangible links connecting cities and countries. Thus, the lack of flights to a particular city suggests a disconnect from the global economy. Like India, the economies of most African countries are still developing. Yet, the difference in flight traffic between the two raises the question: why are African cities so much more disconnected from the global economy than Indian cities?

In order to answer this, it is important to examine how these cities have grown over the past few decades. In the case of Luanda and Hyderabad, both cities have added millions of new residents since the 1990’s, but this growth has been fueled by different factors. The growth of Hyderabad has been driven by job creation across a diverse array of sectors such as the IT, pharmaceutical, and manufacturing industries. Major international companies such as Microsoft, Amazon, and Google have set up offices in the city, bolstering its status as an international economic hub. On the other hand, urbanization in Luanda was primarily driven by the fact that there were few other places in the country for people to move to. During and after the Angolan Civil War, Luanda remained as one of the only safe locations in the country where people could seek out economic opportunities. Meanwhile, the economic opportunities within the city are largely limited to the oil industry, which is not sufficient to create a diversified economy and generate enough jobs to support a city as large as Luanda. People moved to Luanda not because they wanted to, but because they had to, while the few jobs that created actual wealth remained inaccessible to the majority of the population, creating a city with vast inequalities. This has left Luanda disconnected from the global economy.

The situation of Luanda is reflective of a larger trend occurring within various countries across Africa, where countries are urbanizing without globalizing. The economies of many African countries are dominated by the extraction and export of natural resources such as oil, timber, and minerals. The vast majority of Nigeria’s exports are petroleum products; Tanzania’s largest single export is gold; copper and cobalt make up the largest exports for the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Resource extraction-based industries generate demand for certain urban goods and services, but the jobs created as a result of this demand are often low-paying service jobs in the informal sector. As a result, wealth in these cities remains concentrated in the hands of the socioeconomic elite, which creates little incentive to build and maintain public services and infrastructure. Only one city in all of Sub-Saharan Africa (Lagos) has a metro system, whereas 17 cities in India have metros. Greater investment in public infrastructure helps lower the cost of doing business in a city, which incentivizes companies to invest and create jobs. Poor infrastructure in cities also disincentivizes tourism, which is another large industry that creates jobs and increases the demand for flights. Out of the top 15 largest cities in Africa, the only two with more than 200 daily flights are Cairo, Egypt, and Johannesburg, South Africa. Egypt and South Africa are the second and fourth most visited countries in Africa respectively, which helps to explain the higher number of flights for cities in those countries. Cape Town, a major international tourist destination in South Africa, has 113 daily flights, whereas Yaounde, Cameroon, has only 8, even though both cities have around 5 million people.

Historically, urbanization has been a sign of economic development since the Industrial Revolution. Cities like London and Paris grew rapidly in the 19th century, New York and Tokyo in the 20th century, and Guangzhou and Shenzhen in the 21st. In these instances, urban growth was largely driven by manufacturing and service sectors creating enough new jobs to entice people to move from rural areas to cities. This traditional pattern of urbanization is the one that most Indian cities are following. Mumbai’s growth has been fueled by the financial and entertainment industries; Hyderabad and Bangalore by the tech industry; and Chennai by the automotive and healthcare sectors. Cities like Luanda, Kinshasa, and Lagos on the other hand, have urbanized due to factors like conflict, climate change, and the lack of rural job opportunities, pushing people to move to the only areas with wealth in those countries. Yet, this wealth remains inaccessible to most people who move, creating a society with severe economic inequality.  

The differences between the wave of urbanization taking place in India versus Africa highlights the failure of many African governments to build cities that serve the people who live there. Instead, many African cities have been built with the rich elite in mind, with projects such as grand stadiums, statues, and high-rise apartments being prioritized over public transit, power, and sewage infrastructure.  If these countries seek to transition from being developing nations to becoming industrialized, globalized states, then they must redefine their development priorities by starting at the city level.

When most people think of minority movements, they may think of the movements trending around the world: racial inequality in America, or Islamaphobia across the West. It is also important, however, to recognize the plights of minorities and groups who do not have as much media attention, but are experiencing similar systems of inequality, injustice, and discrimination all over the globe.

A community not many people are familiar with is the Sikh community. Sikhs are adherents of Sikhism, a monotheistic religion founded in North India about 500 years ago. Despite being the world’s fifth largest religion, with over 25 million followers worldwide, public knowledge of the religion is limited as academia and media do not report widely on the community’s affairs. This lack of media attention, however, was criticized intensely by the Sikh community worldwide in a series of protests, petitions, and events over the past couple of weeks.

Last month, the Sikh community was jolted by desecrations of the faith’s holy book, the Guru Granth Sahib, in separate areas of the North-Indian state of Punjab. Initial arrests were made, including the arrest of two Sikh brothers in the main desecration case. However, the brothers were later released due to a lack of evidence after the case reached the Central Bureau of Investigation. This has led some in the Sikh community to believe that the brothers “were falsely implicated by police,” and that the real perpetrators in the other cases have not yet been found. Many members of the Sikh community are wary of the police reports and investigations due to a distrust in police and government officials.

Historically, this sense of mistrust between Sikhs and the Indian government has political roots going back to Indian independence. In 1947, the partition between India and Pakistan cut across Punjab, the traditional homeland of the Sikhs. Many political promises of a separate Sikh state were made but never reached fruition. For some Sikhs it seemed like Muslims received Pakistan, Hindus received India, and the Sikhs received nothing but the partition’s violence.

Tensions continued and escalated in the 1980s. In 1984, the Indian government enacted Operation Blue Star which attacked Sikhs rebels who were calling for a separate nation called Khalistan. The rebels situated themselves in the Golden Temple, one of the holiest sites in Sikhism. Under the orders of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, the Indian army attacked the temple on a Sikh religious holiday (one of the temple’s busiest days). Official numbers state 575 deaths during the assault, but other reports claim closer to 3,000 deaths, including attending pilgrims.

In the aftermath, Indira Gandhi ordered that the Sikh homeland movement be destroyed through Operation Woodrose. Sir Mark Tully, a BBC reporter who was in India at the time, “confirmed that during this campaign…the police [knew] they could eliminate any suspicious Sikh, although it was never official policy.” From 1984 to 1998, the Sikh community claims that thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands, of Sikhs were abducted, tortured, and killed by official Indian forces. During this time, many Sikh people left Punjab, immigrating to countries all over the world like Canada, England, Australia, and the United States. Adding to the Sikh community’s distrust is that only a few dozen low-ranking individuals have been convicted of attacks from the 1980s to the 1990s, while “those most responsible for killings and other abuses” have failed to be prosecuted by the government.

These most recent desecration incidents in October shook adherents of the faith nationally and globally, spurring demonstrations that condemned the actions, demanded justice, and called for government action. During some of the demonstrations in Punjab, police opened fire on protestors killing two and injuring many more.

The police shootings caught the attention of the Sikh community who called for more international media coverage on the deaths of the protestors. This call for action spanned over all forms media, especially social media platforms like Twitter, Facebook, and YouTube, and resulted in demonstrations worldwide, particularly in the U.K., which has a large Sikh population.

The Sikh Press Association, an organization that works with the British media in order to represent the Sikh community accurately, released a statement about the protests. It reads, “Recent deaths in Punjab have again brought to light the plight of ethnic minorities in India. Sikhs have continually found themselves victims of the most severe kind of police brutality, leading to the death of unarmed protesters and even bystanders during gatherings.” The statements highlighted the long-standing issues of inequality and injustice Sikhs have experienced in India.

Jagmeet Singh, an educator of the Sikh faith with the YouTube channel Basics of Sikhi, described the Sikh community’s frustration: “Indian and Western press failed to question the authorities’ narrative that they only used “minimal force”…despite camera and mobile phone footage showing the Punjab Police damaging vehicles and using violence towards unarmed protesters.”

In response to what Singh and others have called a “media blackout” by the Indian government and official news media on Sikh deaths, demonstrations, petitions, and hashtags were formed internationally in the following weeks.

A Change.org petition, which currently holds over 87,000 signatures, was created against the British Broadcasting Network, BBC, for holding a media blackout against reporting Sikh deaths globally.

This same petition was referenced on October 18 when Jagmeet Singh was invited to a BBC Sunday Morning Live show to discuss inter-faith marriages. Singh interrupted the planned show and stated that, “I have to say Sikhs are being killed in Punjab and no one is reporting it. Please report it.” The video of Singh on the show has since been circulated heavily on YouTube and social media. Later that same week, the Independent, a British news company, released a piece written by Singh explaining the motivations for his actions and the current state of Sikhs in Punjab.

BBC responded to the allegations of a “blackout” stating that the organization has been “covering this story online…on radio…and on the BBC Asian Network.”

The Sikh community also took heavily to Twitter, using a hashtag, #SikhLivesMatter, to draw attention to situation. The hashtag, which borrowed from the  #BlackLivesMatter movement, had been used previously to show support for bullied Sikh American kids. The hashtag was used over 40,000 times by October 19 and has been utilized by individuals ranging from members of the Sikh community to members of the British Parliament showing support.

Respect to Jagmeet Singh for standing up and doing what the worlds media haven't done #SikhLivesMatter pic.twitter.com/c7q57tW7EV

— Mr Singh (@eep_singh) October 18, 2015

While the Sikh Lives Matter movement has focused primarily on prejudice and discrimination in Punjab, it has also brought to light the situations of Sikhs in countries like the U.S. and the U.K.

In the U.S., many Sikh men, who wear turbans and keep long, unshorn beards, have been targets of hate crimes and have been mistaken as Muslims, especially since the terrorist attacks of September 11th. The death of Balbir Singh Sodhi, for instance, was the first hate crime fatality after the attacks on the Twin Towers. In 2012, a Sikh temple in Wisconsin was attacked, resulting in six deaths. The same year, Democratic Representative Joseph Crowley, of New York, called for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, FBI, to collect specific data on hate crimes committed against Sikhs. He cited that in 2012 alone, “two Sikh men in…Sacramento were slain, a Sikh temple in Michigan…vandalized, and a Sikh man was beaten in New York.” Earlier this year, on September 15, a Sikh man, Inderjit Singh Mukker, was beaten unconscious in Chicago. Mukker, an American citizen, was reportedly called a “terrorist” and “Bin Laden” during the incident.

In the U.K., one of the most recent clashes between the Sikh community and the British government came up during a Sikh Lives Matter protest during late October. The protest is said to have turned violent and resulted in an injury to a policeman. However, complaints were made when an officer broke the Nishan Sahib, the Sikh flag, and other officers removed protestors’ religious articles during arrests.  An apology was later issued by the British Metropolitan Police for disrespectful behavior and extreme tactics towards demonstrators during the protest.

#SikhLivesMatter police are using force to remove the sitdown protest pic.twitter.com/TyqPiJOl6h

— SikhPressAssociation (@SikhPA) October 22, 2015

How the the current Sikh movement will continue to grow is unknown, but it is far from over. The community has found a powerful tool in social media and continues in its activism and advocacy. The situation also sheds a light on the role of the traditional news media, who in the eyes of many in the Sikh community, have failed to serve the public. What this means for the future of traditional news reporting and social media activism will be interesting to see.

Photo Credit: International Business Times

The 60-year-old Indian is inspiring. Leaving behind a promising career as an electrical engineer at 26, Kailash Satyarthi has dedicated his life to helping millions of Indian children forced into the solitude of slavery by the opulence of corrupt business. His campaign passionately asserts that child labor and trafficking perpetuate the global struggle of poverty, unemployment, illiteracy, and population growth.

According to UNICEF, roughly 150 million children ages 5 to 14 are forced into child labor around theworld. This number represents 15 percent of all children in this age group. Developing countries bolster the weight of child slavery at 23 percent, with the largest portions being in various parts of Africa (27 percent) and South Asia (12 percent).

Among these countries, India has the highest population of children in the world with 440 million children.  This young demographic is more than the entire population of USA, Mexico, and Canada combined. In short, one out of every five children in the world is Indian. In the same 2012 UNICEF report, 11 percent of the country’s children worked as child laborers. India’s 48.4 million child workers represent a figure larger than Spain’s entire population.

Earlier in October, The Norwegian Nobel Committee recognized the injustice of child labor and awarded the man who has dedicated his life to abolishing it. Kailash Satyarthi received the 2014 Nobel Peace Prize along with Malala Yousafzay “for their struggle against the suppression of children and young people and for the right of all children to education.” Further, the Nobel Prize committee commented on their decisions calling, “it as an important point for a Hindu and a Muslim, an Indian and a Pakistani to join in a common struggle for education and against extremism.”

 http://data.unicef.org/child-protection/child-labour

In 2013, Satyarthi and his organization, Bachpan Bachao Andolan, had rescued more than 82,800 victims of trafficking, slavery, and child labor. Since its establishment in 1980, BBA has led the global campaign against child labor and trafficking in the form of the Global March Against Child labor.

Yet, BBA’s road has been treacherous. Specifically, their plan to raid factories in order to debunk the hollowness of child labor has proved immensely dangerous. Manned by armed guards and violent security systems, these factories frequently retain and reduce children, and even entire families, to serfdom.

These factories produce a variety of products, from soccer balls to sneakers, but South Asian rugs are their premier export. According to Satyarthi, the battle to end child labor begins with the education of consumers. He believes if they knew how their expensive and colorful Indian rugs were made, they would no longer think they were so beautiful. To raise awareness, he began “Rugmark,” an initiative that labels and certifies if each rug is produced by a child-labor-free factory. Kailash plans to extend the labeling program to other entities such as soccer balls, another popular product that is commonly made by children.

After freeing thousands of children, Satyarthi has focused his energy on educating these young adults at Mukti Ashram in New Delhi, India. The transition center is in charge of teaching newly freed slaves basic skills — reading and mathematics — as well as providing food, clothing, shelter, medical aid, and psychological and legal assistance. BBA ensures that the children get the best quality care to overcome the trauma of slavery and servitude, which also eases the process of their reintegration into society.

The campaign against child labor is not simply Eastern as our own nation employs children in agriculture and domestic labor. Most recently, The Humans Rights Watch released an in-depth 138-page report documenting the conditions of children working in the tobacco fields of Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee, and North Carolina. The report is based on interviews with 141 child tobacco workers who risk nicotine poisoning, aged 7 to 17. Thousands of children have immigrated to the United States illegally, so there is no legal recourse for them.

The fact that kids are still enslaved in the 21^st century is a nauseating idea and makes anyone question the motives and ethics of humanity. If we can gain anything from Kailash Satyarthi’s movement it is the reminder that change is, in fact, possible. Hope still exists as Kailash says, “If not now, then when? If not you, then who? If we are able to answer these fundamental questions, then perhaps we can wipe away the blot of human slavery.”

Approximately 1.27 billion people, comprising almost 17 percent of the world’s population, live in the Republic of India. The World Bank estimates that approximately 30 percent of India’s population falls below the poverty line of $1.25 per day; however, other economists project this poverty rate to be closer to 67 percent when measured with a poverty line adjusted for India’s standard of living. In 2010, the Indian government spent $28.6 billion on social programs such as food distribution and health insurance initiatives aimed at alleviating poverty. However, without a standard way to identify people in need of these services and track the efficacy of the programs, corruption and inefficient dispersion of goods and services often occur. As a result, India’s poverty is persistent and multi-generational.

India’s poverty cycle could be broken by the creation of a new database through the UID (Universal ID) program, also known as the Aadhaar. The program’s main objective is to improve the delivery of government services, increase voter turnout, and reduce corruption by providing every citizen of India with a government-issued identity. Each person who enrolls in the program must provide a biometric scan of his or her fingerprints and irises in order to receive a 12-digit ID number. Each individual’s biometric data is uploaded to a national system and cross-referenced with every other individual’s data to ensure there is no replication. To protect against individual privacy, the Supreme Court of India has ruled that a person’s biometric data cannot be shared with third parties or other agencies without the consent of the registered person.

More than 600 million Indians have registered for a UID since its launch in 2009. This registration is significant because, prior to the UID system, fewer than 30 percent of Indian households had even one resident with any form of identification. Although it is not mandatory, the potential benefits of using the UID system are enormous. Each person’s ID would be connected to a bank account, affording him or her access to credit markets that poor people usually cannot use, thus allowing the poor to also develop a credit history. Increased access to credit for the poor has been correlated with positive GDP growth. Furthermore, government stipends to impoverished families would no longer risk being siphoned by government intermediaries; rather, these stipends could be deposited directly to each individual’s bank account. In addition, the UID system could help India’s government track the finances of each household, develop a better tax-collection system, and assess which citizens are most in need of public goods and services.

Aside from its financial benefits, the UID also has many other practical applications. By assigning one UID per person, the potential for voter fraud would be greatly reduced. The system could also be used to integrate medical records across the nation, creating one comprehensive file for each medical patient. Similarly, schooling records could be created for each student, allowing for a seamless transition when students switch schools or move. Since 75 percent of Indians have cell phones, they could also access all of these records with their cell phones.

Naturally, the UID has received many criticisms regarding its feasibility and security. Although program registration has been in effect since 2009, little progress has been made in the implementation of many of the program’s promised financial aspects. Thus, while 600 million registered Indians have received their 12-digit identification number, the Indian market has not yet integrated these numbers into daily transactions. There is also a fear that the efficacy of the UID system will continue to be severely limited in the areas of India that lack the infrastructure to support debit cards and other UID-related technologies. In addition, while 50 percent of India’s population has already enrolled in the program, in some of the southern states where welfare benefits are already routinely distributed, the poor would rather continue receiving in-kind transfers over cash.

Furthermore, the majority of the system has been outsourced to American and French IT companies, a fact that has produced much concern among the public, given the recent breach of the United States’ security with the Snowden leaks. Although the Indian government promises that the biometric data and associated information are heavily encrypted, the fear of a cyber-attack still looms. As the program is eventually estimated to receive 1 million enrollments per day, India’s technological capability to handle such large amounts of data has been called into question.

As India undergoes its general election cycle from April 7 to May 12, the UID program has been the topic of many parliamentary debates. While many see the program as a means of revolutionizing India’s economy and breaking the cycle of poverty, prime ministerial candidate Narendra Modi sees it as nothing more than a “political gimmick without vision.” Modi, a member of the Bharatiya Janata Party, which is likely to win the election, has also questioned the cost and security of the program and spoken of doing away with the program if he were to come to power. Amid the increasingly polarized debate over the UID, suggestions that the program be temporarily suspended continue to grow. The most important question remains: is this much technological integration a potential infringement on Indians and their security, or is it just what India needs?

A tourist attraction in the middle of a warzone is a peculiar sight to behold. I stood, dressed in my Sunday best, flanked by a cadre of soldiers. Dark-lensed Aviator glasses guarded their watchful eyes, and all hands hovered unflinchingly over their hip-mounted pistols. Pictures were being snapped nonchalantly amid a decades-long deadlock between ideological adversaries. Across the dividing line between freedom and totalitarianism, a single guard peered from behind a column; his binoculars transfixed on the imperialistic dogs before him. This is what Americans think of when they imagine a contentious border. But Korea’s Demilitarized Zone exists in a tense, but artificial stasis. The border people should be worried about what lies between Pakistan and India.

The disputed region of Kashmir is the fault-line between India and Pakistan. A festering sore of history, the line of control that runs through Kashmir represents perhaps the greatest existential threat to humanity today. While North Korea possesses roughly five crude nuclear weapons with non-effective delivery systems, both India and Pakistan possess around 100 nuclear weapons each. This perpetual standoff is rarely discussed in America, but in light of the nebulous War on Terror and shifting Asian power dynamics, nuclear war over Kashmir’s idyllic valleys may bring the threshold of mutually assured destruction closer to bear.

If Indo-Pakistani relations deteriorated enough to warrant nuclear war, the damage would extend far beyond the Indian subcontinent. Right now, there are dozens of missiles aimed at major cities in both countries, but while the initial strikes would be devastating, the aftermath would have global ramifications. Most crucially, a nuclear exchange on the Indian subcontinent would be a far different animal from the Cold War’s worst-case scenario. According to the New Scientist, a Cold War exchange would have primarily been focused on eliminating enemy missile silos. India and Pakistan’s standoff focuses not on eradicating retaliation capabilities but rather on systematically eliminating as much of each population as possible.  Nuclear strikes would set massive cities ablaze, and the firestorms would kick up debris into the atmosphere, obscuring the sun. A nuclear winter would then cast lethal darkness across the planet.

The effects of full-scale nuclear exchange are predictably dire, but from where does all this mutual distrust stem? The rivalry between India and Pakistan began in 1947. The British crown jewel of India originally encompassed present day India along with Pakistan and Bangladesh (then known as East Pakistan, which seceded from Pakistan in 1971). After the sovereignty movement led by Gandhi achieved independence from the British Empire, religious violence surged. India sought a secular direction, anchored by the Hindu majority, but millions of Indian Muslims demanded their own autonomy. A mass exodus ensued, but the exchange between the Indian and Pakistani territories was marred by religiously motivated massacres. The atmosphere of distrust never fully dissipated.

The foremost example of the violent potential that India and Pakistan’s fragile relationship cultivates is the 2008 Mumbai Attacks. Known as India’s 9/11, 164 people perished and more than 600 were injured when Pakistani militants launched a series of coordinated attacks in India’s largest city. The attack lasted for four days and demonstrated the Islamists’ ability to strike at the heart of India. Pakistan initially denied involvement, but the lone surviving attacker confirmed the true origins of the attack. The gunman identified as a member of Lashkar-e-Taiba, a terrorist group officially condemned by Pakistan but supported the country’s omnipresent security apparatus the Directorate of Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI). Indian demands for retaliation became increasingly louder after the tragic event, but luckily no military response occurred, though Indian resentment still simmers. However, the Mumbai attacks were just the latest wound in a long history of conflict.

The first conflict between the two, young nations centered on the Indian state of Jammu and Kashmir. This province, nestled in the Himalayas on Pakistan and India’s northernmost border, embodied the frustration of the messy Indian split. The greater Kashmir region is home to a Muslim majority, but negotiations over territorial possession devolved into the Indo-Pakistani War of 1947-48. India retained control of the region contrary to Pakistani claims, and two more Kashmiri wars resulted (India-Pakistan War of 1965 and the Kargil War of 1999) along with a protracted insurgency that continues to this day.

Today, this region continues to incite a malicious loathing between the two countries. The mountainous terrain serves as a corridor for Islamist militants to enter and destabilize India. Islamic insurgency is a thorn in the side of both India and Pakistan, but the Kashmiri militants carry the official backing of the Pakistani government. The ISI uses these militants as an indispensable tool in reasserting Pakistani control over the disputed areas. The ISI cut their teeth in the militancy game by training the Taliban with American financial support amidst the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, but now their training experience provides new opportunities. Conventional warfare would certainly result in a nuclear exchange, but these faceless fighters give Pakistan the leeway needed to maneuver around the tepid peace hanging over Kashmir.

The acerbic rhetoric between India and Pakistan has little middle ground, due to the fact that both sides desire total control of an intact Kashmir. However, their relations do not occur in a vacuum, and a rising dragon to the north has potential to further complicate an already complex scenario. China too has territorial possessions inside the Kashmir region. In fact, China claims territorial ownership of several points along the Himalayan mountain range that forms India’s northern border. China’s military modernization and economic power only solidifies many Indians’ perceptions that their land could soon be annexed.

As a result, the next generation of Indian politicians dreams of a more proactive stance on defense. Currently, India maintains a no first-use doctrine on nuclear weapons; Pakistan has no such condition. India previously based this principle on the ability to retaliate so thoroughly that no enemy would consider an exchange. However, India’s second largest political party, the Indian People’s Party (BJP), sees the first-use policy as something to be reconsidered. Seemingly poised to control the parliament after the current round of elections, the conservative, nationalist party sees no other option to territorial disputes other than a firm hand. The decision is not yet finalized, but any changes could invite further escalation.

Ultimately, the ongoing conflict between India and Pakistan is fueled by religiously driven nationalism. In such a dispute, compromise risks undermining both societal egos. However, the fanaticism which has grown from the territorial dispute assigns greater value to national power than human life. In effect, America has little recourse other than to suggest that cooler heads should prevail. Regardless, there is little hope the conflict will die down. Reservoirs perched high in the Himalayas provide drinking water for the increasingly overpopulated states, adding another element of national survival to the clash in Kashmir. Coupled with threats outside the dueling duo, Kashmir is a flashpoint that may flash much brighter than even the DMZ in Korea.

Unlike the ominous tranquility of the DMZ, the Kashmir line of control boasts stadium-seating for raucous citizens. Nationalistic fervor is a constant presence.  Ornately dressed border guards peacock with elaborate dances, separated only by a dividing line marked by white paint. The mountain faces on each side are pock marked with camouflaged pillboxes and machine gun emplacements. Indian counter-terrorist forces routinely scour the rocky outcrops for illegal militants. The epicenter of this nuclear standoff forms a singular display of the historical indemnity between India and Pakistan. In the coming decades, the fate of the human race balances between these two irreconcilable enemies.

The Kashmir dispute survives not on reason, but emotion. A national sea change in Pakistan away from the use of state-backed terror is necessary for real change to be affected. Nonetheless, Americans should be aware of the world’s true most dangerous border. Even if America and the West can do nothing else other than petition Indian and Pakistani leaders, it must be made clear that risking the lives of billions outweighs a glorified egotistical dispute over a rocky mountain valley.

 By: Sarah Smith and Megan White

On Aug. 6, 1945, the traditional fabric of war and security that had held the international system together for centuries was incinerated. That morning, an American B-29 bomber, the Enola Gay, carried out world’s first atomic attack on Hiroshima, Japan. Three days later, a second atomic attack leveled Nagasaki. The results were devastating: more than 100,000 people were killed instantly, and the final death toll from the two attacks reached at least 185,000. Thousands were left homeless, and the cities continue to suffer from the residual effects of radiation. Resonating far beyond the shores of Japan, the two bombs unleashed a new era of uncertainty, fear, and multilateral diplomacy.

The unprecedented power of this new weapon demanded an unprecedented response from the international community. In 1968, 62 countries signed the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons (NPT). At the time, multilateral agreements regulating particular methods of warfare were nothing new: as early as 1675, the Strasbourg Agreement between France and the Holy Roman Empire prohibited the use of poison bullets, and, more recently, the 1925 Geneva Protocol banned the use of chemical and biological weapons. What set the NPT apart was the scope of what it sought to control. Atomic energy has the potential to power the world, as well as the potential to destroy it, a fact the international community does not take lightly. With 189 state-parties as of 2013, the NPT is the most widely accepted arms control agreement to date.

The cornerstone of the global non-proliferation regime, the NPT establishes a legally binding framework whose foundations rest on three principals: (1) states without nuclear weapons as of 1967 may not acquire them; (2) the five states known to have tested nuclear weapons prior to 1967 may not assist other states in acquiring them and must agree to pursue disarmament; and (3) states without nuclear weapons are guaranteed access to civilian nuclear technology and energy development. The International Atomic Energy Agency serves as the implementing body for the NPT, ensuring that all signatories comply with the treaty and adhere to a system of safeguards through its ability to impose sanctions. Until recently, the regime remained firmly rooted in the international arena, withstanding the tension of the Cold War and the tumult of the post-Soviet world. Atomic energy has not been used in warfare since 1945, and in the 50 years since the treaty’s inception, only five states (three of which are not party to the NPT) have developed nuclear weapons programs.

Although it has seen a degree of success, the NPT has perhaps lived too many half-lives. The international political and technological landscapes have changed significantly since the treaty entered into force in 1970, but the legal regime has not kept pace. In essence, the NPT lacks a forceful mechanism against the very threat it was meant to prevent: the proliferation of nuclear weapons. Specifically, the treaty provides no culpability for violation, and even contains an article permitting withdrawal. Coupled with the IAEA’s limited budget and lack of adequate verification and enforcement mechanisms, the nonproliferation regime falls short of what is needed to detect, prevent, or punish weapons development.

Despite the NPT’s broad legal coverage, a series of failures since the early 1990s have highlighted its ineffectiveness in deterring would-be nuclear weapons states. This is perhaps most apparent in the decades-long struggle with North Korea and the more recent resurgence of Iran’s nuclear ambitions. At one point in time, both nations “adhered” to NPT protocol by allowing for limited IAEA safeguards and inspections. In 2003, however, North Korea formally announced its withdrawal from the NPT, while Iran shockingly remains party to the treaty. Since its withdrawal in 2003, North Korea has conducted nuclear tests in 2006, 2009, and 2013. Iran continues to rapidly enrich uranium, ostensibly for civilian nuclear energy, though a recent NASA report claims that Iran should have a nuclear weapons capability by 2015.

Significantly, of the nine countries that possess nuclear warheads, four (44 percent) are not currently party to the NPT. These include India, Pakistan, North Korea, and Israel, the existence of whose nuclear program remains a secret. One of these countries, Pakistan, was the source of a black market proliferation network under Abdul Qadeer Khan, a scientist who shared nuclear information and technology with North Korea, Libya, and Iran. The NPT’s inability to reign in proliferation, a problem with potentially worldwide implications, outside the confines of its list of signatures speaks volumes to its fragility.

In addition to the NPT’s shortcomings in the realm of nonproliferation, its ambiguous call for disarmament remains to be answered. Among the five nuclear weapons states recognized in the treaty, 22,000 warheads remain stockpiled. Though President Obama’s 2009 Prague speech and UN Resolution 1887, which call for accelerated efforts towards total nuclear disarmament, offer a glimmer of hope for the second pillar of NPT, their significance is symbolic rather than practical. Beneath the rosy veneer of reduction agreements, nuclear states are seeking refurbishment, rather than destruction, of their arsenals.

While the NPT takes a 21st century reality check, new policy ventures have plugged the holes in the non-proliferation dam. One such policy is UN Resolution 1540, a legally binding instrument requiring all UN member states to enact and enforce measures to prevent non-state actors from acquiring unconventional weaponry and means of delivery. The inconsistent implementation of the resolution, however, has taught the international community that a universal non-proliferation treaty might be an unrealistic hope. Instead, the major powers have begun to address emerging nuclear states and contentious regions on an individual basis.

One such instance is the 2008 U.S.-India 123 Agreement. The deal lifts a three-decade U.S. moratorium on nuclear trade with India, provides U.S. assistance to India’s civilian nuclear energy program, and permits India’s admission to the Nuclear Suppliers Group. In return, India has allowed for increased IAEA inspections with the stringent Additional Protocol and has agreed against diverting certain resources toward their militarized nuclear reactors. Though India’s nuclear program has fallen under a higher degree of control, the agreement essentially undercuts the NPT by allowing the program to exist and even thrive outside the global regime.

The jury is still out on what the U.S.-India 123 agreement means for the NPT, but it does nonetheless represent a new trend in dealing with today’s proliferation challenges. As demonstrated in the Six Party Talks with North Korea and P5+1 meeting with Iran, Libya’s abandoning its nuclear weapons program in 2003, and Kazakhstan, Belarus, and Ukraine’s move to relinquish their weapons following the collapse of the Soviet Union, nuclear diplomacy may require action on a country-to-country basis through ad hoc multilateral efforts, rather than the peddling of a one-size-fits-all policy. That’s not to say that there is no place for a global nonproliferation regime.  These examples serve to showcase the maturity, and even the future, of non-proliferation policy. Although the reign of the NPT has perhaps come to an end, the treaty remains one of the most influential pieces of international policy to emerge from the 20th century. Its precedent of peaceful international cooperation to solve a problem with global ramifications has held as a buffer against Einstein’s vision of a future where wars are fought with sticks and stones.

Recently, a gang-rape victim in the Indian city of Mumbai fainted during her court hearing.  With a whirlwind of sexual violence in India, people across the world feel a similar sense of overwhelming disgust with these heinous acts.  Headlines such as “A 14-Year-Old Raped and Murdered in a Police Station in Uttar Pradesh,” “A Husband Facilitating His Own Wife’s Gang Rape in Howrah,” or “A 65-Year-Old Grandmother Raped in Kharagpur” are common in Indian newspapers.  On the other hand, these stories fade as quickly as they occur.  Why is there a lack of government and public action against these horrendous crimes?  The answer lies within the flaws of India’s social and legal systems.  It is estimated that a rape happens in India every 21 minutes.  A lengthy history of discrimination haunts India’s people today. 

In 1973, a cleaner raped and strangled Mumbai nurse Aruna Shanbaug with chains and left her to die.  Today, Shanbaug lives her life in a vegetative state and the attacker received a mere seven-year sentence not for rape, but attempted murder and robbery.  Soldiers of Assam Rifles took 32-year-old Manorama away and accused her of helping insurgents in 2003.  Manorama’s mangled body later appeared by a roadside.  Just outside a police station in Uttar Pradesh, 14-year-old Sonam was raped and murdered last year.  During a 2002 riot in Gujarat, numerous women were gang-raped and killed.  Attacks claim not only Indian women victims; two men forced a 28-year-old Swiss victim into her car in South Delhi where one of the men raped her.

Unfortunately, these are only a few of the countless occurrences.  Painful and lingering cases of sexual abuse with no justice leave victims and families hurt and confused.  While sexual assaults confined victims like Shanbaug in a hospital room unable to perform simple everyday tasks, many culprits enjoy their freedoms with no consequences.  One of the causes of the maltreatment is the discrimination against women in India.  The abortion of female fetuses and murder of baby girls causes an alarmingly skewed sex ratio.  Survivors of these inhumane birth conditions go on to live lives of prejudice and discrimination.  Trustlaw, which is run by Thomas Reuters, ranked India as the worst G20 country for women.  While women continue to gain power in India’s government and workforce, the sexual crimes against women are on the rise.  Incidences of rape rose 9.2 percent with 24,000 cases of rape in 2011.  Just over half of the victims were between the ages of 18 and 30.  94 percent of those attacked knew their assaulters.  Disturbingly, most of the attackers were neighbors or relatives.  Recently, kidnappings of women also rose 19.4 percent, torture escaladed 5.4 percent, molestation grew by 5.8 percent, and trafficking advanced a frightening 122 percent.  Economists Siwan Anderson and Debraj Ray propose that more than two million women are missing in a given year.  Anderson and Ray found that more women died due to “injuries,” which appear to be an indicator of violence against women, than during childbirth.

The main factors that decrease women’s health in India include violence, poor healthcare, inequality, malnutrition, and neglect of personal health and wellbeing.  A change in the social standing of women is necessary to increase their safety and living conditions.  Although politicians such as Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh promise social reforms and equality, laws and prosecutions against rape remain ineffective.  Six elected state legislators and 27 of the recent state elections’ candidates are accused rapists, as well.  Without strong voices against rape in the core of India’s government, how can the country improve its circumstances for women?

India’s court system has increased its actions against sexual crimes due to the rise in media outrage.  Recently, four men were recently found guilty for a fatal gang rape in Delhi last year.  Lines are blurring between the social caste system that once diminished social progress and constrained women’s rights in the courtroom.  In rape cases involving a man raping a woman in a lower caste, the accused would once plea that they would never rape a woman in a lower caste.  Women were also blamed for rape due to their “promiscuous culture.”  Today the illegitimate excuses fade and the arguments for women’s rights grow stronger.  According to activist Kavita Krishnan, “the template for policing, and government’s thinking about policies towards women in India, remains regressive.”  An increase in rape reports decreases the fear of seeking help.  Lawyer Karuna Nundy stated that “Delhi police data show 1,036 cases of rape were reported until 15 August, 2013 – as against 433 cases reported over the same period last year.”  Nundy also believes that more financial funding can supply more judges to account for India’s uneven judge to citizen ratio.

India is taking legal measures to end these silences and injustices.  Amendments to the penal code criminalize acts such as stalking that lead to more dangerous actions.  Changes in procedural law make it more difficult for the police to disguise impunity.  Just last month, the police were lauded when they arrested the criminals of a photojournalist in Mumbai.  In addition, the police were recently able to arrest accused rapists within 72 hours of a crime.  While the rapes in India may not stop, the conversation about equality of the sexes and punishment for once ignored acts has begun.  These recent victories and changes are the first steps in the battle against India’s social injustice and violence.

The start of 2013 brought with it the opportunity for a new lifestyle for millions of women in India. After a forty-year span during which the number of women raped increased by 875 percent, women’s rights have taken center-stage at last, and the Indian government has passed a new law barring various types of sexual violence and further criminalizing others. Why? Quite frankly, the people of India gave their government no choice.

On Dec. 16, 2012, a young woman in New Delhi, India was raped. She was going home from a movie with a male friend when six other men hit him with a metal rod, and then proceeded to beat and rape her, ultimately leading to her death in a Singaporean hospital two weeks later. Her tragic story served as the spark that would cause a reticent population to take a stand.

For all of India’s culture, history, and innovation, it has never been known for protecting the rights and freedoms of women. Many pockets of Indian society still prefer sons, practice the dowry, and exploit and abuse women and children.

In New Delhi alone, rape incidents have increased by nearly 28 percent in the last year, and cases of molestation have risen by almost 11 percent — and those are only the official numbers. There are a number of women who would never dare to report an incident of sexual assault. The cultural stigma is too great, and the societal consequences are too heavy. Up until now, it was almost better to always err on the side of caution, to never go out alone, and, should anything happen, to suffer in silence.

The events of December have changed that. The anonymous rape victim, now immortalized as “Damini” — which means “lightning” in Hindi and was also the title of a 1993 Bollywood movie about sexual violence — has become somewhat of a martyr. Her assailants have been put on a fast track to trial and are currently facing charges of both rape and murder. If convicted, they could face the death penalty from a system that is only too ready to mete out justice.

After years of delayed or no reaction, the Indian government has begun to act. In the past two months, it has established the Verma Committee to examine measures that must be taken to mend the rift in Indian society. As a result, the Indian government passed a new law this past Sunday that not only increases jail time for rapists, but also advocates the death penalty in extreme cases. Voyeurism, stalking, acid attacks, and the trafficking of women are now punishable by law, and plans are in place to add more women to police forces, particularly in New Delhi. Steps are even being made to create an online database publicizing the names, addresses, and case numbers of convicted rapists, much like the sexual offenders registry in the United States.

Yet, for all this change, criticism still abounds. Many say that these changes are either too little too late or not sufficient to address the problems facing Indian society. The law does not criminalize marital rape, nor does it address the issue of rape by armed personnel commissioned to certain conflict zones in the country. It also does not bar politicians facing rape charges from contesting an election.

Even more to the point, the Indian government is still laced with corruption. There is no way to know how well these measures — progressive though they may sound — will be implemented, and no way to know if society will adapt to the newly established policies. The new laws do not discuss educational initiatives that could possibly change a confused public’s perspective regarding women, something that the Verma Committee highly emphasized, but was ultimately left unaddressed.

Naturally, efforts to architect a significant cultural shift do not come without obstacles. Pockets of Indian society remain staunchly patriarchal, and changing a perspective that is so ingrained in society will not be without its challenges. No matter how many laws are put in place, an India that truly respects the rights of women is only possible when society itself values every one of its members. For that reason, the lack of an educational program in India’s newly passed legislation proves to be something of a problem.

Fortunately, then, both the media and celebrities have taken to using their respective platforms to raise awareness. The Times of India recently took out a full page ad in its own newspaper decrying India’s present definition of masculinity, saying “The true test of your manhood is how you treat a woman. All women. Any woman. Every woman. If you do not respect a woman, you are only half a man.” Bollywood superstar Amitabh Bachchan took to Twitter to discuss Damini’s rape, saying that though her “body may have passed away, her soul shall stir forever in [our] hearts!!!”

Ultimately, it must be acknowledged that India’s reaction is a delayed one. The measures that recently passed may not compare to the freedoms already available to women in other countries. However, that the measures have been passed is noteworthy, and give millions of women in India the chance to hope for a better future — both for themselves and their daughters.

Gautam Narula

India’s current government, led by the center-left Indian National Congress (INC), has been plagued by corruption scandals. The 2010 Commonwealth Games, held in India, embarrassed the nation as the extent of the corruption involved was revealed; rolls of toilet paper sold  for as much as $80 each. The 2G spectrum scam, in which telecommunications rights were sold for a fraction of their true value and resulted in the loss of billions of dollars, infuriated the population. The Supreme Court forced out P.J. Thomas, the head of India’s anti-corruption body, on corruption charges. Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, respected for his supposed incorruptibility, has been slow to respond to these scandals, which have complimented the petty corruption that pervade everyday life. Transparency International, an anti-corruption watchdog, ranked India 87th of 178 countries in its annual Corruption Perception Index, with a score of 3.3 out of 10.

Kisan Hazare, popularly known as Anna (“big brother”), a 74 year old social activist, began a series of hunger strikes aimed at forcing the Indian parliament to pass his specific draft of a bill creating a powerful anti-corruption body. When the government responded with a weaker bill,  Hazare planned to launch an indefinite hunger strike in the capital, New Delhi, on August 16, 2011. The police unwisely chose to arrest Hazare in an effort to muzzle him. Instead, Hazare’s arrest launched hundreds of demonstrations in cities around India and earned him widespread sympathy. After fasting for 12 days, Hazare and his supporters declared victory when the government agreed to Hazare’s demands on the bill.

As supporters around the nation cheered Anna’s victory, some began to question both the efficacy of his victory and the methods which he used. India already has anti-corruption bodies in place. Would adding another bureaucracy make any difference? More disturbing was  Hazare’s image transformation into a saintly Gandhian with an almost cult-like following. Was it healthy for an anti-corruption movement to coalesce solely around one personality?

In India such movements, centered around one figure leading an idealistic crusade against an evil and corrupt government using the Mahatma’s methods, seem to occur on a cyclical basis. Hazare’s movement is reminiscent of one led by Jayaprakash “JP” Narayan in the early 1970s. Narayan’s credibility stemmed from his role in the Indian independence movement as well as his stature as an elderly Gandhian. His movement intended to create a “total revolution”– moral, social, and political—to combat the evils he perceived in government, fueled by yuva skukti (“youth power”). He launched a series of agitations — protesting against corruption, high food costs, inflation, unemployment, and other societal ills. He had several methods of protest. Along with hunger strikes, he promoted gheraos, where a large group of people will surround a politician’s house or a government building, preventing the occupants from leaving; the rasta roko and rail roko, where crowds blockade roads and railways respectively; bandhs,which were general strikes called by politicians and often enforced by hired thugs; and dharnas, agitations outside the institutions being protested. Opposition politicians, eager to exploit the opportunity to weaken the INC, signed on to the JP movement.

The movement brought down a few state governments and created a chaotic political atmosphere. It did eventually help the opposition coalition rout the INC in 1977, but the movement fizzled out and the coalition collapsed three years later, returning the INC to power. One Indian newspaper, The Hindu, could have easily been talking about Anna Hazare when it pondered

“whether a duly elected legislature should be dissolved just because a student’s agitation… demands it. Mr. Narayan [has] chosen to remain outside the mainstream of politics and thus shirked the responsibility to shape it and the country’s affairs… [and] now seeks to enter the house through the wrong door and even it bring it down on the heads of everybody… It is also clear that [what] inhibits the government’s firmer handling of the situation… is Mr. Narayan’s undoubted stature as an [upright] Gandhian… Should he virtually exploit such public standing to usher in what are disorder and disrespect for law and order and the democratic set-up as a whole?”

Should an unelected figure use emotional blackmail (which is essentially what a hunger strike is) to force a government to meet his demands, rather than use the normal democratic processes to effect change? Such techniques are the norm in India. Why lobby your elected officials to change something when you can shut the whole place down with a bandh and force them to do it? B.R. Ambedkar, the chief author of India’s constitution, warned of the “grammar of anarchy,” meaning the usage of Gandhian techniques to force change onto a democratic government. Democratic governance requires a strong respect for the rule of law; however, the independence movement was based on the defiance of the law and the rejection of governmental authority.  Should the rural masses have any grievance with the government, they tend to address those grievances through methods which imply that their government had been imposed on them, as in the case of Gandhi, rather than democratically elected. More often, ambitious politicians, typically from one of the opposition parties, would foment rural discontent in an attempt to bring down the elected government. Politicians break the law, get arrested, and are released shortly afterward, gaining useful political leverage for their disregard of the law, all as a matter of routine.

If dime-a-dozen street movements aren’t the solution to India’s corruption problem, then what is? We should note that Indian courts, media organizations, social activists, the Internet, and new laws have exposed many corruption cases that may otherwise have gone unnoticed. Corrupt politicians often come to power by buying rural votes, either directly (there is a story of a south Indian politician offering televisions to any person who voted for him) or indirectly by promising heavy subsidies on food or fuel to poor villagers. Indians must realize that the most powerful tool against corruption is the ballot box, and that only organic, democratically created anti-corruption laws (such as the 2005 Right to Information Act) — rather than street movements that intend to eradicate corruption overnight — can effect real change. Unfortunately, in a country comfortable with chaotic protests and plagued by illiteracy and poverty, that is much easier said than done.