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      Macky Sall, Senegal’s Leader, Says He Won’t Run for Third Term

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      Macky Sall had considered seeking a third term in the West African country despite a constitutional limit of two.President Macky Sall of Senegal said on Monday that he would not seek a third term in office, putting an end to months of tensions over a hypothetical candidacy that many say would have violated the West African nation’s Constitution.“My dear fellow citizens, my decision after long consideration is to not be a candidate in the election on Feb. 25, 2024,” Mr. Sall said in a televised address. “My 2019 term was my second and last term.”Mr. Sall’s speech came a month after at least 16 people died in government protests that were fueled, in part, by his refusal to say whether he would run for a third term next year.Thousands of demonstrators, most of them young, had taken to the streets to protest against what they saw as an authoritarian drift from Mr. Sall’s government, and against the conviction of his main political opponent, Ousmane Sonko, on charges that his supporters said had been an attempt to sideline him.The violence, reminiscent of deadly protests in 2021, raised concerns among the Senegalese public and international observers that Senegal was no longer the beacon of political pluralism and stability it had long been regarded as in a region known for its frequent coups and aging leaders clinging to power.That made Mr. Sall’s announcement all the more welcome to many.“A time bomb was just deactivated,” Alioune Tine, a renowned Senegalese human rights figure, said about Mr. Sall’s renouncement. “It’s a huge relief for Senegal and the African continent.”Mr. Sall’s decision not to run was unusual for West and Central Africa, where some leaders have in recent years curbed their countries’ laws to stay in power.In 2021, President Alassane Ouattara of Ivory Coast was elected for a third term despite a constitutional rule limiting presidents to two. In the Central African Republic, President Faustin-Archange Touadéra is also seeking a third term through a constitutional referendum scheduled this month.Senegal, which has never experienced a coup since gaining independence from France in 1960, considers itself a model of democracy in Africa. Many feared that Mr. Sall might change that.Mr. Sall, 61, was first elected in 2012 for a seven-year term and again in 2019 for five years after he modified the Constitution, which limits presidents to two terms. He argued that the constitutional change had reset the clock to zero, but legal experts in Senegal and abroad dismissed the contention as fallacious.Since 2012, Mr. Sall has presided over the development of one of Africa’s fastest-growing economies, focusing on major infrastructure projects like a new international airport, a train linking the capital, Dakar, to its suburbs and a new metropolis aimed at alleviating congestion in Dakar.He has also overseen the development of a gas field off Senegal’s northern coast that is expected to start production next year. It could make the country of 17 million people a major producer of natural gas in Africa.Yet, Senegal’s health care system remains underdeveloped, while youth unemployment is widespread. And under Mr. Sall’s leadership, hundreds of political opponents have been jailed and journalists arrested.Senegal now faces an open election in less than eight months.The future for Mr. Sonko, Mr. Sall’s main opponent, remains uncertain. Last month, he was sentenced to two years in prison for “corrupting youth” after a massage parlor employee accused him of rape in 2021. Mr. Sonko was acquitted of rape and other charges, all which he denied.Mr. Sall has yet to name a political successor. On Tuesday evening, he said, “Senegal exceeds my person, and is full of leaders capable of taking the country to the next level.” More

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      What Frederick Douglass Knew That Trump and DeSantis Don’t

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      There was a moment during the Trump administration when the president and his most ideologically committed advisers searched for a way to end birthright citizenship.Enshrined in the first sentence of the first section of the 14th Amendment to the Constitution, birthright citizenship means that anyone and everyone born on American soil is an American citizen. Written to secure the social transformations wrought by the Civil War, it is a cornerstone of the United States as a multiracial democracy.President Donald Trump would end it, he decided, by executive order. “It was always told to me that you needed a constitutional amendment. Guess what? You don’t,” he said when announcing the effort in 2018, falsely asserting, “We’re the only country in the world where a person comes in and has a baby, and the baby is essentially a citizen of the United States — with all of those benefits. It’s ridiculous. It’s ridiculous. And it has to end.”Fortunately, Trump was wrong. There is no way, short of a constitutional amendment, to nullify the birthright citizenship clause of the 14th Amendment. Nor was there any question of its meaning and intent. After fierce pushback from legal scholars on both the left and the right, Trump dropped the issue.But he didn’t forget about it. Earlier this year, Trump announced that if he were elected president again, he would ban birthright citizenship through executive order. Not to be outdone in the race for the Republican presidential nomination, Ron DeSantis, the governor of Florida, said that he, too, would end birthright citizenship if elected president.“Stop the invasion,” said DeSantis’s blueprint for immigration policy. “No excuses.” He is pledging to “take action to end the idea that the children of illegal aliens are entitled to birthright citizenship if they are born in the United States.” He also contends, “Dangling the prize of citizenship to the future offspring of illegal immigrants is a major driver of illegal migration,” adding that “it is also inconsistent with the original understanding of the 14th Amendment.”The main reason DeSantis has followed Trump down this path is that he appears to be running to be the understudy to the former president. If Trump is forced out of the race because his legal troubles push him out of presidential politics, then DeSantis will take the standard for the MAGA faithful. Or so he hopes.At the same time, it’s clear that DeSantis’s position is as much about ideology as it is about opportunism. His attack on birthright citizenship is consistent with his crusade to purge “wokeness” from schools and classrooms in the state of Florida, where officials have banned books and suppressed instruction on, among other subjects, the history of American racism.The attack on birthright citizenship is an attempt to stigmatize and remove from society an entire class of people. And the attack on so-called wokeness is an attempt to delegitimize and remove from society an entire way of understanding the world. Together, the attacks form an assault on two of the pillars of the egalitarian ideal.Here, it is worth taking a brief tour of the history of birthright citizenship in the United States. Before the 14th Amendment, the boundaries around citizenship were ill defined. Although the idea of birthright citizenship was present in English common law at the time of the adoption of the Constitution, the Constitution as ratified said nothing about acquiring citizenship by either birth or naturalization.In 1790, Congress limited citizenship by naturalization to “free White persons … of good character,” but was silent on the question of citizenship by birth. As the 18th century came to a close and the 19th century progressed, one prominent view was that there was no citizenship in the United States as such; there was only citizenship in a state, which conferred national citizenship by virtue of the state’s place in the Union. To the extent that citizenship came with rights, the scope of those rights was a question of state laws and state constitutions.But there were always proponents of a broader, more expansive and rights-bearing birthright citizenship. They were free Black Americans, who needed to anchor themselves in a world where their freedom was tenuous and uncertain.“We are Americans, having a birthright citizenship,” wrote Martin Delany, the free Black journalist and antislavery orator, in his 1852 pamphlet “The Condition, Elevation, Emigration and Destiny of the Colored People of the United States.” Delany, as the historian Martha S. Jones noted in “Birthright Citizens: A History of Race and Rights in Antebellum America,” called on Black Americans to leave the United States. And yet, he still claimed the country as his own.“Our common country is the United States,” Delany wrote. “Here were we born, here raised and educated; here are the scenes of childhood; the pleasant associations of our school going days; the loved enjoyments of our domestic and fireside relations, and the sacred graves of our departed fathers and mothers, and from here will we not be driven by any policy that may be schemed against us.”Against legislative efforts to make their lives in America impossible to live, free Blacks asserted that, in Delany’s words, “the rights of the colored man in this country to citizenship are fixed,” attached not just to the states, but to the United States.Jones noted that even those opposed to emigration, like the men of the 1853 Colored National Convention in Rochester, N.Y., mirrored Delany’s thinking. “We are Americans, and as Americans, we would speak to Americans,” declared the group. “We address you not as aliens nor as exiles, humbly asking to be permitted to dwell among you in peace; but we address you as American citizens asserting their rights on their own native soil.”With his 1857 decision in Dred Scott v. Sandford, however, Chief Justice Roger Taney foreclosed the constitutional recognition of Black citizenship and defined the United States, in true Jacksonian form, as a white man’s country. Black people, he wrote, “were not intended to be included, under the word ‘citizens’ in the Constitution, and can therefore claim none of the rights and privileges which that instrument provides for and secures to citizens of the United States.” They had no rights, he added, “which the white man was bound to respect.”The birthright citizenship clause of the 14th Amendment, based on similar language found in the Civil Rights Act of 1866, was a direct response to and a rebuke of Taney’s reasoning. Having won the argument on the battlefield, the United States would amend its Constitution to establish an inclusive and, in theory, egalitarian national citizenship.The authors of the 14th Amendment knew exactly what they were doing. In a country that had already seen successive waves of mass immigration, they knew that birthright citizenship would extend beyond Black and white Americans to people of other hues and backgrounds. That was the point.Asked by an opponent if the clause would “have the effect of naturalizing the children of Chinese and Gypsies born in this country,” Senator Lyman Trumbull, who helped draft the language of birthright citizenship in the Civil Rights Act, replied “Undoubtedly.” Senator John Conness of California said outright that he was “ready to accept the provision proposed in this constitutional amendment, that the children born here of Mongolian parents shall be declared by the Constitution of the United States to be entitled to civil rights and to equal protection before the law with others.”In 1867, around the time Congress was debating and formulating the 14th Amendment, Frederick Douglass delivered a speech in Boston where he outlined his vision of a “composite nationality,” an America that stood as a beacon for all peoples, built on the foundation of an egalitarian republic. “I want a home here not only for the Negro, the mulatto and the Latin races; but I want the Asiatic to find a home here in the United States, and feel at home here, both for his sake and for ours,” Douglass said. “The outspread wings of the American Eagle are broad enough to shelter all who are likely to come.”If birthright citizenship is the constitutional provision that makes a multiracial democracy of equals possible, then it is no wonder that it now lies in the cross hairs of men who lead a movement devoted to unraveling that particular vision of the American republic.Embedded in birthright citizenship, in other words, is the potential for a freer, more equal America. For Donald Trump and Ron DeSantis, that appears to be the problem.The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: letters@nytimes.com.Follow The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Twitter (@NYTopinion) and Instagram. More

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      Something’s Got to Give

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      It’s been 52 years since Congress passed, and the country ratified, a constitutional amendment — the 26th Amendment, which lowered the voting age to 18 in the wake of the Vietnam War and the broader disruption of the 1960s. (The 27th Amendment, ratified in 1992, was passed in 1789.) It’s been 64 years since Congress added states to the union — Alaska and Hawaii, in 1959. And it’s been 94 years since Congress capped the size of the House of Representatives at 435 members.You might be tempted to treat these facts as trivia. But the truth is that they say something profound about American politics. For more than 50 years, the United States has been frozen in a kind of structural and constitutional stasis. Despite deep changes in our society — among them major population growth and at least two generational waves — we have made no formal changes to our national charter, nor have we added states or rearranged the federal system or altered the rules of political competition.One reason this matters, as Kate Shaw and Julie C. Suk observe in a recent essay for Times Opinion, is that “several generations of Americans have lost the habit and muscle memory of seeking formal constitutional change.” Unaccustomed to the concept and convinced that it is functionally impossible, Americans have abandoned the very notion that we can change our Constitution. Instead, we place the onus for change on the Supreme Court and hope for the best. Out with popular sovereignty, in with judicial supremacy.There is another reason this matters. Our stagnant political system has produced a stagnant political landscape. Neither party has been able to obtain a lasting advantage over the other, nor is either party poised to do so. The margins of victory and defeat in national elections are slim. The Republican majority that gave President George W. Bush a second term in the White House — and inspired, however briefly, visions of a permanent Republican majority — came to just 50.7 percent of the overall vote. President Barack Obama won his second term by around four percentage points, and President Biden won by a similar margin in 2020. Donald Trump, as we know, didn’t win a majority of voters in 2016.Control of Congress is evenly matched as well. Majorities are made with narrow margins in a handful of contested races, where victory can rest more on the shape of the district map — and the extent of the gerrymandering, assuming it holds — than on any kind of political persuasion. That’s the House. In the Senate, control has lurched back and forth on the basis of a few competitive seats in a few competitive states. And the next presidential election, thanks to the Electoral College, will be a game of inches in a small batch of closely matched states rather than a true national election.Past eras of political dynamism often came from some change in the overall political order. Throughout the 19th century, for example, the addition of states either transformed the terrain on which Americans fought partisan politics or opened avenues for long-term success for either one of the two major parties. States could be used to solidify partisan control in Washington — the reason we have two Dakotas instead of one — or used to extend and enlarge an existing coalition.Progressive-era constitutional transformations — the direct election of senators, women’s suffrage and Prohibition — reverberated through partisan politics, and the flood of Black Americans from Southern fields to Northern cities put an indelible stamp on the behavior of Democrats and Republicans.We lack for political disruption on that scale. There are no constitutional amendments on the table that might alter the terms of partisan combat in this country. There’s no chance — anytime soon — that we’ll end the Electoral College or radically expand the size of the House, moves that could change the national political calculus for both parties. There are no prospects, at this point, for new states, whether D.C., Puerto Rico or any of the other territories where Americans live and work without real representation in Congress.There’s nothing either constitutional or structural on the horizon of American politics that might unsettle or shake the political system itself out of its stagnation. Nothing that could push the public in new directions or force the parties themselves to build new kinds of coalitions. Nothing, in short, that could help Americans untangle the pathologies of our current political order.The fact of the matter is that there are forces that are trying to break the stasis of American politics. There’s the Supreme Court, which has used its iron grip on constitutional meaning to accumulate power in its chambers, to the detriment of other institutions of American governance. There’s the Republican Party, which has used the countermajoritarian features of our system to build redoubts of power, insulated from the voters themselves. And there is an authoritarian movement, led and animated by Trump, that wants to renounce constitutional government in favor of an authoritarian patronage regime, with his family at its center.Each of these forces is trying to game the current system, to build a new order from the pieces as they exist. But there’s nothing that says we can’t write new rules. And there’s nothing that says that we have to play this particular game.The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: letters@nytimes.com.Follow The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Twitter (@NYTopinion) and Instagram. More

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      Rahul Gandhi, Leader of India’s Opposition to Modi, Disqualified From Parliament

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      The expulsion of Rahul Gandhi is a devastating blow to the once-powerful Indian National Congress party. He and several other politicians are now in jeopardy through India’s legal system.NEW DELHI — Rahul Gandhi, one of the last national figures standing in political opposition to Prime Minister Narendra Modi of India, was disqualified as a member of Parliament on Friday, sending shock waves across the country’s political scene and devastating the once-powerful Indian National Congress party Mr. Gandhi leads.Mr. Gandhi was expelled from the lower house the day after a court in Gujarat, Mr. Modi’s home state, convicted him on a charge of criminal defamation. The charge stemmed from a comment he made on the campaign trail in 2019, characterizing Mr. Modi as one of a group of “thieves” named Modi — referring to two prominent fugitives with the same last name. Mr. Gandhi received a two-year prison sentence, the maximum. He is out on 30 days’ bail.Any jail sentence of two years or more is supposed to result in automatic expulsion, but legal experts had expected Mr. Gandhi to have the chance to challenge his conviction. A notification signed by a parliamentary bureaucrat appointed by Mr. Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party on Friday stated that Mr. Gandhi had been disqualified automatically by the conviction itself, per the Constitution of India.“They are destroying the constitution, killing it,” said Srinivas B.V., president of the Indian National Congress Party’s youth wing. “The court gave Mr. Gandhi 30 days to appeal against the order, and hardly 24 hours have passed since.”Mr. Gandhi said in a Twitter post on Friday, “I am fighting for the voice of this country. I am ready to pay any price.”Lawmakers from the Congress Party and other opposition parties protesting outside of India’s parliament in New Delhi on Friday.Altaf Qadri/Associated PressMr. Srinivas said the party will fight the expulsion, politically and legally. One of the party’s most prominent members, Shashi Tharoor, who like Mr. Gandhi is a member of the lower house in the state of Kerala, said on Twitter that the action ending his tenure in Parliament was “politics with the gloves off, and it bodes ill for our democracy.”Mr. Gandhi, a scion of the Nehru-Gandhi family whose father, grandmother and great-grandfather served as prime minister, has taken pains to improve his national profile in recent months. He led an unexpectedly popular march late last year across swaths of India, rallying crowds to “unite India” against the Hindu-first nationalism espoused by Mr. Modi. And since the fortunes of Gautam Adani, a tycoon long associated with Mr. Modi, collapsed under pressure from a short-seller’s report in January, Mr. Gandhi has been using his platform in Parliament to call for an investigation of his business empire.The Congress Party is not alone in worrying about the implications for India’s democracy that Mr. Gandhi’s disqualification poses. With parliamentary elections coming next year, the government’s attempts to clamp down on dissent seem to be gaining momentum, other opposition leaders pointed out.Last month, Manish Sisodia, the second in command of the Aam Aadmi Party, was arrested on charges related to fraud. Earlier this month Kavitha K., a leader from a regional party that recently turned to national politics, was questioned by federal investigators in connection with the same case.The string of criminal cases against politicians — though none have been brought against high-profile members of Mr. Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party, or B.J.P. — contrasts awkwardly with Mr. Modi’s presentation of India as “the Mother of Democracy” during a global publicity blitz to accompany its hosting the Group of 20 summit meeting this year.Police raids against the BBC’s office in India and some of the country’s leading think tanks have intensified doubts about the strength of India’s democracy. Eliminating the opposition from parliament through the courts might heighten those misgivings dramatically. More

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      Macron Faces an Angry France Alone

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      President Emmanuel Macron saw his decision to push through a change in the retirement age as necessary, but the price may be high.PARIS — “We have a president who makes use of a permanent coup d’état.” That was the verdict of Olivier Faure, the leader of the French Socialist Party, after President Emmanuel Macron rammed through a bill raising the retirement age in France to 64 from 62 without a full parliamentary vote this past week.In fact, Mr. Macron’s use of the “nuclear option,” as the France 24 TV network described it, was entirely legal under the French Constitution, crafted in 1958 for Charles de Gaulle and reflecting the general’s strong view that power should be centered in the president’s office, not among feuding lawmakers.But legality is one thing and legitimacy another. Mr. Macron may see his decision as necessary to cement his legacy as the leader who left France prepared to face the rest of the 21st century. But to many French people it looked like presidential diktat, a blot on his reputation and a blow to French democracy.Parliament has responded with two motions of no confidence in Mr. Macron’s government. They are unlikely to be upheld when the lawmakers vote on them next week because of political divisions in the opposition, but are the expression of a deep anger.Six years into his presidency, surrounded by brilliant technocrats, Mr. Macron cuts a lonely figure, his lofty silence conspicuous at this moment of turmoil.“He has managed to antagonize everyone by occupying the whole of the center,” said Jacques Rupnik, a political scientist. “Macron’s attitude seems to be: After me, the deluge.”This isolation was evident as two months of protests and strikes that left Paris strewn with garbage culminated on Thursday in the sudden panic of a government that had believed the pension vote was a slam dunk. Suddenly, the emperor’s doubts were exposed.Mr. Macron thought he could count on the center-right Republicans to vote for his plan in the National Assembly, Parliament’s lower house. Two of the most powerful members of his government — Finance Minister Bruno Le Maire and Interior Minister Gérald Darmanin — came from that party. The Republicans had advocated retirement even later, at 65.Prime Minister Élisabeth Borne, bottom left, with lawmakers at the National Assembly on Thursday. If the government falls in a no-confidence vote, she will no longer be prime minister.Alain Jocard/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesYet out of some mixture of political calculation in light of the waves of protest and spite toward the man who had undermined their party by building a new movement of the center, they began to desert Mr. Macron.Having his retirement overhaul fail was one risk that even Macron the risk taker could not take. He opted for a measure, known as the 49.3 after the relevant article of the Constitution, that allows certain bills to be passed without a vote. France’s retirement age will rise to 64, more in line with its European partners, unless the no-confidence motion passes.But what would have looked like a defining victory for Mr. Macron, even if the parliamentary vote in favor had been narrow, now looks like a Pyrrhic victory.Four more years in power stretch ahead of Mr. Macron, with “Mr. 49.3” stamped on his forehead. He made the French dream when he was elected at age 39 in 2017; how he can do so again is unclear.“The idea that we are not in a democracy has grown. It’s out there all the time on social media, part conspiracy theory, part expression of a deep anxiety,” said Nicolas Tenzer, an author who teaches political science at Sciences Po university. “And, of course, what Macron just did feeds that.”The government’s spokesman is Olivier Véran, who is also minister delegate for democratic renewal. There is a reason for that august title: a widespread belief that over the six years of the Macron presidency, French democracy has eroded.After the Yellow Vest protest movement erupted in 2018 over an increase in gas prices but also an elitism that Mr. Macron seemed to personify, the president went on a “listening tour.” It was an attempt to get closer to working people of whom he had seemed dismissive.Now, almost one year into his second term, that outreach seems distant. Mr. Macron scarcely laid the groundwork for his pension measure even though he knew well that it would touch a deep French nerve at a time of economic hardship. His push for later retirement was top-down, expedited at every turn and, in the end, ruthless.Outside the National Assembly, French Parliament’s lower house, on Friday. Mr. Macron thought he could count on center-right Republicans there to vote for his plan, but they began to desert him.Geoffroy Van Der Hasselt/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesThe case for the overhaul was strong. It was not only to Mr. Macron that retirement at 62 looked untenable as lives grew longer. The math, over the longer term at least, simply does not add up in a system where the ratio of active workers to the retirees they are supporting through their payroll taxes keeps dropping.But in an anxious France, with many people struggling to pay their bills and unsure of their futures, Mr. Macron could not make the argument. In fact, he hardly seemed to try.Of course, the French attitude to a mighty presidency is notoriously ambiguous. On the one hand, the near-monarchical office seems to satisfy some French yearning for an all-powerful state — it was a French king, Louis XIV, who is said to have declared that the state was none other than himself. On the other, the presidency is resented for the extent of its authority.Mr. Macron seemed to capture this when he told his cabinet on Thursday, “Among you, I am not the one who risks his place or his seat.” If the government does fall in a vote of censure, Élisabeth Borne will no longer be prime minister, but Mr. Macron will still be president until 2027.“A permanent coup d’état,” Mr. Faure’s phrase, was also the title of a book that François Mitterrand wrote to describe the presidency of de Gaulle. That was before Mr. Mitterrand became president himself and in time came to enjoy all the pomp and power of his office. Mr. Macron has proved no more impervious to the temptations of the presidency than his predecessors.Protesters at a train station in Bordeaux, France, on Friday. Demonstrations and strikes over the pension bill have gone on for two months and continued after Mr. Macron’s decision to avoid a full vote.Philippe Lopez/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesBut times change, social hierarchies fall, and Mr. Macron’s exercise of his authority has stirred a strong resentment in a flatter French society at a moment of war-induced tension in Europe.“There is a rejection of the person,” Mr. Tenzer said. The daily newspaper Le Monde noted in an editorial that Mr. Macron ran the risk of “fostering a persistent bitterness, or even igniting sparks of violence.”In a way, Mr. Macron is the victim of his own remarkable success. Such are his political gifts that he has been elected to two terms in office — no French president had done this in two decades — and effectively destroyed the two political pillars of postwar France: the Socialist Party and the Gaullists.So he is resented by the center left and center right, even as he is loathed by the far left and the far right.Now in his final term, he must walk a lonely road. He has no obvious successor, and his Renaissance party is little more than a vehicle for his talents. This is the “deluge” of which Mr. Rupnik spoke: a vast political void looming in 2027.If Marine Le Pen of the far right is not to fill it, Mr. Macron the reformist must deliver the resilient, vibrant France for which he believes his much-contested reform was an essential foundation.A protester shot a firework at police officers in Paris on Friday.Julien De Rosa/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesAurelien Breeden More

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      MC Millaray, la rapera adolescente mapuche que pide derechos indígenas con su música

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      La estrella en ascenso de la música en Chile tiene 16 años y utiliza sus rimas punzantes para transmitir cinco siglos de lucha del mayor grupo indígena del país.SANTIAGO — Justo antes de subir al escenario, la rapera, una adolescente indígena, tenía los ojos cerrados, respiró hondo y se tranquilizó.Su padre se acercó para sacar una lentejuela del párpado de su hija, pero ella, de 16 años, se encogió de hombros avergonzada. Entonces, Millaray Jara Collio, o MC Millaray, como se hace llamar la joven rapera, se volteó e irrumpió en el escenario con un rap vibrante sobre la presencia del ejército chileno en el territorio de los mapuches, el grupo indígena más numeroso del país.La actuación apasionada de MC Millaray sucedió durante un acto de campaña en Santiago, la capital de Chile, hace unos meses, y justo una semana antes de que el país votara sobre la adopción una nueva Constitución. De aprobarse, la carta magna habría garantizado algunos de los derechos de mayor alcance para los pueblos indígenas en todo el mundo.Aunque era demasiado joven para votar en el referéndum, MC Millaray fue una de los cientos de artistas que hicieron campaña a favor de la nueva ley fundamental.“Soy dos personas en una”, dijo tras su actuación. “A veces me siento como una niña pequeña; juego, me divierto, me río. Pero en el escenario todo lo que digo, lo digo rapeando. Me libera. Cuando tengo un micrófono en la mano, soy otra persona”.La nueva Constitución —que habría facultado a los más de dos millones de indígenas de Chile, el 80 por ciento de los cuales son mapuches, para gobernar sus propios territorios, tener más autonomía judicial y ser reconocidos como naciones autónomas dentro de Chile— fue rechazada de forma contundente en septiembre.Pero tras esa derrota, MC Millaray, una estrella en ascenso con más de 25.000 seguidores en Instagram, está más decidida que nunca a transmitir cinco siglos de lucha mapuche contra los colonizadores europeos.“Aquí no acaba el proceso”, dijo desafiante tras la votación. “Aquí empieza algo nuevo que podemos construir juntos”.MC Millaray actuando con su padre, Alexis Jara, durante un mitin político en agosto en apoyo de una nueva Constitución.MC Millaray saluda a una mujer mapuche tras su actuación en el mitin.Entre el español y el mapudungun, la lengua indígena que hablaba con su bisabuela materna, MC Millaray articula esa historia con una furia lírica trepidante.Sus canciones denuncian las injusticias medioambientales, anhelan la protección de la inocencia infantil y honran a los mapuches caídos. Por encima de todo, pide la devolución de las tierras ancestrales mapuches, conocidas como Wallmapu, que se extienden desde la costa del Pacífico chileno y sobre los Andes hasta la costa atlántica argentina.Su canción “Mi ser mapuche”, que salió el año pasado, combina trompetas con el “afafán”, un grito de guerra mapuche. Canta:Más de 500 años sin parar de luchar; hay tierras recuperadas pero son nuestras, nuestro hogar; seguimos resistiendo, no nos van a derrotar.Desde la llegada de los conquistadores españoles en el siglo XVI, la tierra que una vez controlaron los mapuches se ha visto sustancialmente mermada a lo largo de siglos de invasiones, traslados forzosos y compras. La pérdida de tierras ancestrales se aceleró en el siglo XIX, cuando Chile atrajo a emigrantes europeos para que se establecieran en el sur, prometiéndoles tierras que, según afirmaba, estaban desocupadas, pero que a menudo estaban pobladas por mapuches.Para algunos, es la mayor deuda pendiente de Chile. Para otros, es un impasse de siglos sin solución clara.“Para mí, sería un sueño recuperar el territorio”, dijo MC Millaray. “Quiero dar mi vida al weichán”, dijo, refiriéndose a la lucha por recuperar el Wallmapu y los valores tradicionales mapuches. “Quiero defender lo que es nuestro”.Millaray, que significa “flor de oro” en mapudungun, creció con su hermano y su hermana menores en La Pincoya, un barrio marginal de la periferia al norte de Santiago, donde las paredes están salpicadas de grafitis vibrantes y el hip-hop y el reguetón resuenan en las casas que se extienden por las laderas.La representación de una danza tradicional mapuche, el “purrún”, en un mitin político en agostoPortando una bandera con la estrella mapuche en Santiago.La zona tiene una fuerte tradición rapera. En la década de 1980 se formaron en el cercano poblado de Renca las Panteras Negras, uno de los primeros grupos de hip-hop de Chile, y Andi Millanao, más conocido como Portavoz, una de las estrellas del hip-hop más conocidas de Chile, escribió por primera vez su incendiario rap político en la vecina Conchalí.Millaray dice que cuando era niña lo que más esperaba era viajar todos los veranos al sur, a la comunidad de Carilao, en el municipio de Perquenco, para visitar a su bisabuela materna, y pasar las tardes nadando en un río cercano o recogiendo bayas de maqui en un tarro.“Cuando llego al Wallmapu, me llena de libertad y paz”, dice. “Aprendía acerca de lo que soy y represento, lo que corre por mis venas”, añadió, refiriéndose al tiempo que pasaba con su bisabuela. “Me di cuenta de lo poco que conocía a mi lucha”.En su casa en su barrio de Santiago, era la música lo que más captaba su atención, y acudía a los talleres de hip-hop que sus padres —dos raperos que se conocieron en un concierto en La Pincoya— organizaban para los niños del barrio. “Crecí en una familia rapera” , dijo Millaray. “Ellos fueron mi inspiración”.Una tarde, cuando tenía 5 años, su padre, Alexis Jara, quien ahora tiene 40, estaba ensayando para un evento, y su hija, a su lado en la cama, cantaba con él. Cuando actuó esa noche, Jara vio a su hija llorando entre el público, sintiéndose excluida.La subió al escenario y, lloriqueando y con los ojos hinchados, “Y se transformó —¡pah, pah!— empezó a rapear con tanta fuerza que me robó el protagonismo”, recuerda su padre. Cuando se le pasaron las lágrimas, la niña de 5 años se dirigió al público: “Represento a La Pincoya, ¡quiero ver manos en el aire!”.“Desde entonces nunca pudimos bajarla del escenario”, dijo su padre. “Ahora está todo al revés: ¡Yo le pido a mi hija que cantemos juntos!”.A la espera de los resultados del referéndum constitucional de septiembre. La nueva Constitución fue rechazada por el 62 por ciento de los votantes.Una protesta en Santiago tras conocerse los resultados.A los 7 años, Millaray ya había escrito y grabado su primer disco, Pequeña femenina, que grababa en CD para venderlos en los autobuses públicos mientras cantaba en los buses con su padre.Cuando ganaban suficiente dinero, los dos bajaban por la escalera trasera del autobús y se lo llevaban para jugar con máquinas de videojuegos o comprar dulces.Siguen actuando juntos: Jara, un enérgico torbellino de trenzas y ropa holgada, su hija, más tranquila y precisa con sus palabras. “Tic Tac”, la primera canción que escribieron juntos, sigue en su repertorio.Fue cuando aún estaba en primaria cuando recibió la sacudida que reforzaría su decisión de retomar la lucha de sus antepasados en su música, y en su vida.En noviembre de 2018, su profesora de historia le dijo a la clase que Camilo Catrillanca —un mapuche desarmado que murió ese mes por disparos de la policía en la comunidad de Temucuicui, en el sur del país— había merecido su destino.“No podía quedarme callada”, recuerda. “Me paré, llena de rabia, y dije: ‘No, nadie merece morir y menos por defender a su territorio’. En aquel momento defendí mis convicciones, y me cambió”.A finales de 2021 y en la primera parte de 2022, el conflicto en los territorios mapuches, donde el estado de excepción ha sido renovado periódicamente por gobiernos tanto de derecha como de izquierda, se encontraba en uno de sus periodos más tensos en décadas.Además de las sentadas pacíficas de activistas mapuches en terrenos de propiedad privada y en edificios del gobierno regional, se produjeron decenas de casos de incendios provocados, cuya autoría fue reivindicada por grupos de resistencia mapuches, así como ataques contra empresas forestales.En 2022 se registraron al menos siete muertes en la zona del conflicto, entre cuyas víctimas estaban activistas mapuches, un hombre que se dirigía a una ocupación de tierras y trabajadores forestales.En marzo, cuando la ministra del Interior de Chile visitó la comunidad de la que era oriundo Catrillanca, fue recibida con un crepitar de disparos y rápidamente sacada de allí en una furgoneta.Cuando no actúa, MC Millaray es Millaray Jara Collio.MC Millaray, vestida con el traje tradicional mapuche, habla con su madre, Claudia Collio, antes de subir al escenario en un mitin político.En las protestas a veces violentas contra la desigualdad económica que estallaron en todo Chile en octubre de 2019 —desencadenadas por un aumento de 30 pesos chilenos (4 centavos de dólar) en las tarifas del metro—, los símbolos y lemas mapuches eran omnipresentes.En la plaza principal de Santiago, los manifestantes fueron recibidos por un chemamüll, una estatua de madera tradicionalmente tallada por los mapuches para representar a los muertos. En las protestas, Millaray rapeaba o paseaba entre los manifestantes con su bandera azul pintada a mano con el Wünelfe, una estrella de ocho puntas sagrada en la iconografía mapuche.“Ahora somos más visibles que en cualquier momento de mi vida”, dijo Daniela Millaleo, de 37 años, una cantautora de Santiago a la que MC Millaray cuenta entre sus mayores inspiraciones. “Antes eran los mapuche que marchaban por nuestros derechos, pero ahora tanta gente siente nuestro dolor”.Tras su agotadora agenda de actuaciones en actos de campaña a favor del fallido esfuerzo constitucional —así como un viaje a Nueva York para cantar en Times Square como parte de la Semana del Clima de la ciudad de Nueva York— MC Millaray se centra ahora en grabar nuevo material.“Quiero llegar a un público más amplio, pero quiero que cada rima tenga un mensaje; no quiero hacer música solo por hacer música”, dijo. “No importa el estilo, siempre me pregunto qué más puedo decir”.“Quiero llegar a un público más amplio, pero quiero que cada rima tenga un mensaje; no quiero hacer música solo por hacer música”, dijo MC Millaray. 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      Teenage Rapper, Rooted in Mapuche Identity, Roars for Indigenous Rights

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      MC Millaray, 16, an emerging music star in Chile, uses her fierce lyrics to convey five centuries of struggles by the country’s largest Indigenous group against European colonizers.SANTIAGO, Chile — Just before taking the stage, the teenage Indigenous rapper took a deep breath and composed herself, eyes closed.Her father reached over to pick a sequin from his daughter’s eyelid, but the 16-year-old recoiled with an embarrassed shrug. Then Millaray Jara Collio, or MC Millaray as the young rapper calls herself, spun away and exploded onto the stage with an animated rap about the presence of Chile’s military in the territory of the Mapuche, the country’s largest Indigenous group.MC Millaray’s impassioned performance was delivered at a campaign event in Santiago, Chile’s capital, a few months ago, and just one week before the country would vote on a new constitution. If approved, the constitution would have guaranteed some of the most far-reaching rights for Indigenous people anywhere in the world.Although she was too young to vote in the referendum, MC Millaray was one of hundreds of artists who campaigned in favor of the new charter.“I’m two people in one,” she said after her performance. “Sometimes I feel like a little girl — I play, I have fun and I laugh. Onstage, I say everything through rap. It liberates me: When I get a microphone, I’m a different person.”The new constitution — which would have empowered Chile’s more than two million Indigenous people, 80 percent of whom are Mapuche, to govern their own territories, have more judicial autonomy and be recognized as distinct nations within Chile — was soundly defeated in September.But in the wake of that loss, MC Millaray, an emerging star with more than 25,000 followers on Instagram, is more determined than ever to convey five centuries of Mapuche struggles against European colonizers.“This is not the end,” she said defiantly in the vote’s aftermath. “It’s the beginning of something new that we can build together.”MC Millaray performing with her father, Alexis Jara, during a political rally in August in support of a new constitution.MC Millaray greeting a Mapuche elder after her performance at the rally.Slipping between Spanish and Mapudungun, the Indigenous language she would speak with her maternal great-grandmother, MC Millaray articulates that story with fast-paced, lyrical fury.Her songs decry environmental injustices, yearn for the protection of childhood innocence and honor fallen Mapuche. Above all, she calls for the return of Mapuche ancestral lands, known as Wallmapu, which stretch from Chile’s Pacific seaboard and over the Andes to Argentina’s Atlantic coast.​​Her single “Mi Ser Mapuche,” or “My Mapuche Self,” which came out this year, combines trumpets with the “afafan” — a Mapuche war cry. She sings:“More than 500 years without giving up the fight; there are lands we’ve recovered, but they’re ours, our home; we keep on resisting, they won’t defeat us.”Since the arrival of Spanish conquistadors in the 1500s, the land once controlled by the Mapuche has been substantially whittled down across centuries of invasion, forced removals and purchases. The loss of traditional land accelerated in the 19th century when Chile enticed European migrants to settle its south, promising to give them lands it claimed were unoccupied, but often were populated by the Mapuche.For some, it is Chile’s greatest unsettled debt. To others, it’s a centuries-old impasse without a clear solution.“For me it would be a dream to recover the territory,” MC Millaray said. “I want to give my life to the ‘weichán,’” she said, referring to the fight to regain Wallmapu and traditional Mapuche values. “I want to defend what’s ours.”Millaray, which means “flower of gold” in Mapudungun, grew up with her younger brother and sister in La Pincoya, a hardscrabble barrio on the northern fringes of Santiago, where the walls are splashed with colorful graffiti, and hip-hop and reggaeton blare from the ramshackle homes sprawling up the hillsides.The performance of a traditional Mapuche dance, the “purrun,” at a political rally in August.Carrying a flag with the Mapuche star in Santiago. The area has a strong rap tradition. In the 1980s the Panteras Negras, one of Chile’s first hip-hop groups, formed in nearby Renca, and Andi Millanao, better known as Portavoz, one of Chile’s best-known hip-hop stars, first penned his firebrand political rap in neighboring Conchalí.As a child, Millaray said she would look forward more than anything to traveling south each summer to the Carilao community in the municipality of Perquenco to visit her maternal great-grandmother, spending afternoons splashing in a nearby river or collecting maqui berries in a jar.“When I get to Wallmapu, I feel free and at peace,” she said. “I would learn about what I was and what I represent, what runs through my veins,” she added, referring to the time she spent with her great-grandmother. “I realized how little I knew my fight.”At home in her barrio in Santiago, it was music that most captured her attention, and she would attend the hip-hop workshops that her parents — two rappers who met at a throwdown in La Pincoya — would run for local children. “I grew up in a rap family,” said Millaray. “They were my inspiration.”One afternoon when she was 5, her father, Alexis Jara, now 40, was rehearsing for a show, with his daughter beside him on the bed mouthing along. When he performed that evening, Mr. Jara spotted his daughter sobbing in the crowd, feeling left out.He pulled her up onstage and, sniffling and puffy-eyed, “She transformed — pah! pah! — and started rapping with such force that she stole the limelight,” her father remembered. As her tears vanished, the 5-year-old addressed the crowd: “I represent La Pincoya, I want hands in the air!”“From that day on we never got her down from the stage,” her father said. “Now everything has turned on its head — it’s me asking to join her!”Awaiting the results of the constitutional referendum in September. The new constitution was rejected by 62 percent of voters.A protest in Santiago after the results were announced. By the time she was 7, Millaray had written and recorded her first album, “Pequeña Femenina,” or “Little Feminine,” which she burned onto CDs to sell on public buses while out busking with her father.When they had earned enough money, the two would jump down the back steps of the bus and take the money to play arcade games or buy candy.They still perform together — Mr. Jara an energetic whirl of braids and baggy clothing, his daughter calmer and more precise with her words. “Tic Tac,” the first song they wrote in tandem, remains in their repertoire.It was while she was still in elementary school that she was given the jolt that would strengthen her resolve to take up her ancestors’ fight in her music, and life.In November 2018, her history teacher told the class that Camilo Catrillanca — an unarmed Mapuche man who was shot and killed that month by police in the Temucuicui community in the south of the country — had deserved his fate.“I couldn’t stay quiet,” she remembered. “I stood up, burning with rage, and said: ‘No, nobody deserves to die, and certainly not for defending their territory.’ In that moment I defended what I thought, and it changed me.”At the end of 2021 and in the first half of 2022, the conflict in the Mapuche territories, where a state of emergency has been regularly renewed by governments on both the right and left, was at one of its most tense periods in decades.In addition to peaceful sit-ins by Mapuche activists on privately owned land and at regional government buildings, there were dozens of cases of arson, responsibility for which was claimed by Mapuche resistance groups, as well as attacks on forestry companies.At least seven killings were recorded in the conflict area in 2022, with the victims including both Mapuche activists, like a man on his way to a land occupation, and forestry workers.In March, when Chile’s interior minister visited the community where Mr. Catrillanca was from, she was greeted with the crackle of gunfire and quickly bundled away in a van.When she is not performing, MC Millaray is known as Millaray Jara Collio.MC Millaray, in traditional Mapuche dress, talking to her mother, Claudia Collio, before going onstage at a political rally.In sometimes violent protests against economic inequality that exploded across Chile in October of 2019 — set off by a 4-cent increase in subway fares — Mapuche symbols and slogans were ubiquitous.In Santiago’s main square, demonstrators were greeted by a wooden “chemamüll” statue, traditionally carved by the Mapuche to represent the dead. At the protests, Millaray would rap or stroll among protesters with her hand-painted blue flag bearing the “Wünelfe,” an eight-point star sacred in Mapuche iconography.“We’re more visible now than we have been in my lifetime,” said Daniela Millaleo, 37, a singer-songwriter from Santiago whom MC Millaray counts among her greatest inspirations. “Before it would just be the Mapuche who marched for our rights, but now so many people feel our pain.”After her grueling schedule of performing at campaign events on behalf of the failed constitutional effort — as well as a trip to New York to sing in Times Square as part of Climate Week NYC— MC Millaray is now focusing on recording new material.“I want to reach more people, but I want every verse to contain a message — I don’t want to make music for the sake of it,” she explained. “It doesn’t matter what the style is, I’m always asking myself what more I can say.”“I want to reach more people, but I want every verse to contain a message — I don’t want to make music for the sake of it,” said MC Millaray. 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      Putin buscaba lealtad y la encontró en África

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      BANGUI, República Centroafricana — En marzo, cuando la invasión rusa de Ucrania iniciaba su tercera semana, un diplomático ruso que se encontraba a unos 4830 kilómetros de distancia, en la República Centroafricana, hizo una visita inusual a la presidenta del máximo tribunal de ese país. Su mensaje fue contundente: el presidente pro-Kremlin del país debe permanecer en el cargo de manera indefinida.Para eso, el diplomático, Yevgeny Migunov, segundo secretario de la embajada rusa, argumentó que el tribunal debía abolir la restricción constitucional que limita a dos los mandatos presidenciales. Insistió en que el presidente del país, Faustin-Archange Touadéra, quien está en su segundo mandato y se ha rodeado de mercenarios rusos, debía permanecer en el cargo por el bien del país.“Me quedé absolutamente atónita”, recordó Danièle Darlan, de 70 años, quien en ese entonces era la presidenta del tribunal. “Les advertí que nuestra inestabilidad provenía de presidentes que querían hacer eternos sus mandatos”.El ruso no se inmutó. Siete meses más tarde, en octubre, Darlan fue destituida por decreto presidencial con el fin de abrir el camino a un referéndum para rescribir la Constitución, aprobada en 2016, y abolir la limitación de mandatos. Eso consolidaría lo que un embajador occidental denominó el estatus de la República Centroafricana como “Estado vasallo” del Kremlin.Con su invasión de Ucrania, el presidente de Rusia, Vladimir Putin, desató un nuevo desorden en el mundo. Ucrania presenta su estrategia contra el vasallaje ruso como una lucha por la libertad universal, y esa causa ha resonado en Estados Unidos y Europa. Sin embargo, en la República Centroafricana, Rusia ya se ha salido con la suya, con escasa reacción occidental, y en la capital, Bangui, ya se exhibe un tipo diferente de victoria rusa.Mercenarios rusos del mismo tenebroso Grupo Wagner, que ahora lucha en Ucrania, dominan la República Centroafricana, un país rico en oro y diamantes. Su impunidad parece total mientras se trasladan en vehículos sin identificación, con pasamontañas que les cubren la mitad del rostro y portando de manera abierta rifles automáticos. Los grandes intereses mineros y madereros que ahora controla Wagner son razón suficiente para explicar por qué Rusia no quiere amenazar a un gobierno complaciente.Desde Bangui, donde las fuerzas de Wagner roban y amenazan, hasta Bria, en el centro del país, y Mbaiki, en el sur, vi mercenarios de Moscú por todas partes durante una estancia de dos semanas y media, a pesar de las presiones para vayan a combatir en Ucrania.“Amenazan la estabilidad, socavan la buena gobernanza, despojan a los países de sus riquezas minerales, violan los derechos humanos”, declaró el secretario de Estado estadounidense, Antony Blinken, sobre los operativos de Wagner durante una cumbre de líderes de Estados Unidos y África celebrada en Washington a mediados de diciembre.Sin embargo, aunque se les teme, a menudo los rusos son recibidos como una presencia más eficaz en el mantenimiento de una paz frágil, a diferencia de los más de 14.500 cascos azules de las fuerzas de paz de las Naciones Unidas que se encuentran en este país devastado por la guerra desde 2014. Como en otros lugares del mundo en desarrollo, Occidente parece haber perdido el corazón y la mente de los ciudadanos. El enfoque del presidente de Estados Unidos, Joe Biden, para esta época —la lucha entre la democracia y la autocracia en ascenso— resulta demasiado binario para una época de desafíos complejos. A pesar de la guerra en Ucrania, incluso debido a ella, los centroafricanos se muestran intensamente escépticos ante las lecciones sobre los “valores” occidentales.La invasión de Ucrania de Putin y la espiral inflacionista han hecho más desesperada la complicada situación de esta nación sin salida al mar. Los precios de productos básicos como el aceite de cocina han subido un 50 por ciento o más. La gasolina ahora se vende en bidones o botellas de contrabando, pues las gasolineras carecen de ellos. El hambre está más extendida, en parte porque las agencias de la ONU a veces carecen de combustible para repartir alimentos.Sin embargo, muchos centroafricanos no culpan a Rusia.La invasión de Ucrania por el presidente Vladimir Putin ha hecho más desesperada una situación que ya lo era, pero muchos centroafricanos no culpan a Rusia.Mercenarios rusos comprando en octubre en el Bangui Mall, un lujoso supermercado utilizado sobre todo por el personal de embajadas y organizaciones no gubernamentales con sede en el país.Una iglesia ortodoxa rusa en BanguiCansados de la hipocresía y las promesas vacías de Occidente, enojados por la indiferencia que la guerra en África suscita en las capitales occidentales en comparación con la guerra en Ucrania, muchas de las personas que conocí se inclinaban por apoyar a Putin frente a sus antiguos colonizadores de París. Si la brutalidad rusa en Bucha o Mariúpol, Ucrania, horroriza a Occidente, la brutalidad rusa en la República Centroafricana se percibe de manera amplia como una ayuda para apaciguar un conflicto que ya dura una década.África representará una cuarta parte de la humanidad en 2050. China extiende su influencia mediante enormes inversiones, construcciones y préstamos. Biden convocó la Cumbre de Líderes África-Estados Unidos “para construir sobre nuestros valores compartidos” y anunció 15.000 millones de dólares en nuevos acuerdos comerciales, mientras Occidente se esfuerza por ponerse al día y superar un legado de colonialismo.La Rusia de Putin, por el contrario, nunca construye un puente, sino que es la maestra de los despiadados servicios de protección, el saqueo y la propaganda. Gana amigos a través del poder duro, ahora extendido a más de una decena de países africanos, incluidos Mali y Sudán. Como en Siria, su disposición a utilizar la fuerza garantiza el resultado que busca.En marzo, solo 28 de los 54 países africanos votaron en las Naciones Unidas para condenar la invasión rusa de Ucrania, la misma escasa mayoría que posteriormente votó para condenar la anexión rusa de cuatro regiones ucranianas, lo que sugiere una creciente reticencia a aceptar un enfoque estadounidense de lo que está bien y lo que está mal.“Cuando tu casa está ardiendo, no te importa el color del agua que usas para apagar el fuego”, dijo Honoré Bendoit, subprefecto de Bria, capital regional, a casi 450 kilómetros al noreste de Bangui. “Tenemos calma gracias a los rusos. Son violentos y eficientes”. More