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    Australia Sees ‘Trump Style’ Misinformation in ‘Voice’ Campaign

    The reverberations from election conspiracy theories, until recently the domain of political fringes, could be acute, as witnessed by the United States and Brazil.The ballots should, according to the official instructions, be marked with a “yes” or a “no.” A clear and legible “y” or “n” is also likely to be counted. So is a checkmark, for affirmative, but an “X” is considered too ambiguous by the authorities and does not count as a “no” vote.This is how Australians have voted in constitutional referendums for decades. But as the debate over this month’s Aboriginal “Voice” referendum has become increasingly antagonistic and polarized, the process has come under attack.For the first time, in as long as experts can remember, the leader of a mainstream political party in the country has cast doubt on the integrity of an electoral process. Conspiracy theories of a rigged election, the likes of which have led to the storming of government buildings in the United States and Brazil, have rippled from the far right of the political fringes, raising alarm. Election officials have fought back but faced vitriol on social media.A ballot for postal voting in the referendum.James D. Morgan/Getty Images“We may look back at the Voice referendum as a turning point for when election lies and conspiracies went mainstream in Australia,” said Kurt Sengul, a lecturer at the University of Sydney who studies far-right populism. The current debate in the country, he added, was “the first significant Trump style misinformation and disinformation campaign we’ve seen in recent political history,” referring to former President Donald J. Trump.And even though Australia is not at immediate risk of experiencing the kind of election denial seen in the United States, Mr. Sengul added, “That does not bode well for Australian democracy.”The referendum, on whether to set up a body to advise Parliament on Aboriginal issues, has bitterly divided Australia and given rise to a slew of baseless claims on social media, including that the advisory body could seize property or land, or residents would be required to pay rent to Indigenous people if the referendum passed.A rally opposing the “Voice” referendum was held last month in Sydney.David Gray/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesCaught in the turbulence is the matter of why a checkmark on a ballot counts as a vote while an “X” does not.Longstanding legislation requires officials to count votes as long as the voters’ intent is clear, even if they do not follow the instructions on the ballot paper. Legal advice over the decades has confirmed that an “X,” which many people use on forms and documents to indicate a “yes,” does not show clear intent.However, some pundits and politicians have suggested that the variance is unfair. The leader of the conservative opposition party, Peter Dutton, said that he did not want “a process that’s rigged.”Mr. Dutton did not respond to requests for comment. Fair Australia, which is leading the opposition to the referendum said in a statement: “We understand the rules in relation to formality but believe they give an unfair advantage to the ‘Yes’ campaign. The responsibility for any erosion in trust lies with those who made the unfair rules, not with those who call them out.”A rally in support of the Voice in Melbourne last month.William West/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesUnlike in the United States, where national elections are run by a patchwork of state and local officials, in Australia, they are administered by one independent agency, the Australian Electoral Commission, which enjoys broad trust and support and is widely praised by analysts.The agency aims to make voting, which is compulsory in Australia, as accessible as possible. During federal elections, mobile voting stations are taken to remote Indigenous communities using helicopters, four-wheel-drive vehicles and even boats.“The AEC is the gold standard for how you should run elections,” said Bruce Wolpe, who has written a book called “Trump’s Australia.” He added that when Australians go to the polls, “they know their vote will be counted accurately and they’ll abide by the results, and that’s a big deal for how this democracy works in contrast to the U.S.”The commission moved quickly to counter inaccurate claims about the referendum, responding to posts on social media, sending officials to TV and radio shows, and condemning much of the commentary around the issue as “factually incorrect.”In addition to dealing with the issue of check and “X” marks, during this referendum campaign, the commission has debunked suggestions that ballot papers would not be securely stored, pushed back against claims that the referendum would not go ahead and sparred with users who flushed information booklets down toilets, sometimes responding to hundreds of social media comments a day.But even as officials have become more assertive in fighting disinformation, their task is only getting harder.For several years now, experts have watched the political polarization and spread of voting fraud conspiracies in the United States and worried that such rhetoric would leech into Australia’s domestic politics because of the two countries’ close ties.“It is an ongoing concern that we’re seeing groups draw inspiration from U.S. politics that is highly polarized and attempt to export those tactics here,” said Josh Roose, a political sociologist at Deakin University in Melbourne.Tom Rogers, the electoral commissioner, said that after Australia’s 2019 federal election, he “really started to worry about what we were seeing globally.” His agency realized it wasn’t enough to simply run elections fairly and well.“You’ve got to tell people what you’re doing,” he said.Tom Rogers, the Australian electoral commissioner, with the agency’s executive leadership team.Australian Electoral CommissionThe commission started running digital literacy campaigns to educate voters about fake news, working with social media companies and countering incorrect claims about the electoral process online.Its strategy came to national attention during last year’s federal election, when its tongue-in-cheek humor — including beseeching voters not to draw an “eggplant emoji” on their ballot papers — drew both acclaim and criticism. On social media, the agency tries to respond to as many comments as possible — even ones that may seem outlandish, said Evan Ekin-Smyth, who leads that effort.“We take an approach of: Unless you’re going to engage in something that’s deliberately false, deliberately bad faith, we’ll give a response,” he said. “Why not? We’re there to provide fact-based information about the process that we run. No matter how crazy a theory might seem, some people believe it.”However, the agency dialed back the humor for the referendum because it was experiencing new levels of attacks on social media, including, for the first time, threats of physical harm, Mr. Rogers said.Mr. Ekin-Smyth admitted that the agency’s strategy probably would not change the minds of everyone determined to believe conspiracy theories, but he hoped that by injecting accurate, factual information into the discussion, the commission could help stop these theories from spreading further.“Does it feel like we’re pushing a boulder up a hill? Sort of, sometimes,” he said. But “if we’re keeping that boulder from rolling down the hill, that’s pretty good, isn’t it?” More

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    Una estrategia para el dominio de un partido latinoamericano: la compra de votos

    En las elecciones nacionales de Paraguay, el Times fue testigo de cómo representantes del gobernante Partido Colorado intentaban comprar los votos de las comunidades indígenas.La comunidad indígena Espinillo está a casi 21 kilómetros del centro de votación más cercano, y en la aldea nadie tiene auto.Es por eso que hace dos semanas, en vísperas de las elecciones en Paraguay, Miguel Paredes, un chofer de ambulancia retirado que se ha convertido en una figura política local, subió a las familias indígenas a un autobús y las llevó al costado de una carretera, a pocos pasos de las urnas. “Queremos cuidar por ellos”, dijo Paredes, de 65 años, vigilante y de pie junto a seis jóvenes a los que identificó como sus colegas.Al caer la noche, Paredes y sus colegas reunieron a algunos miembros de la comunidad indígena y anotaron sus números de identificación. Paredes les dijo que debían votar por el Partido Colorado —la fuerza política dominante de derecha en Paraguay— y asegurarse de que sus compañeros de la comunidad también lo hicieran. Luego, los jóvenes guiaron a los miembros de la comunidad indígena en una simulación de las máquinas de votación en un teléfono, y les indicaron cómo votar por los candidatos del Partido Colorado.Ante los periodistas de The New York Times, Milner Ruffinelli, uno de los jóvenes, pasó a hablar en guaraní, la lengua indígena oficial en el país. “Ese pedido de plata que se comprometió con ustedes, eso ya está también y el señor Miguel Paredes va a ver cómo hacerles llegar”, dijo. “Acá no podemos darles nada, ustedes saben por qué”. More

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    One Secret to a Latin American Party’s Dominance: Buying Votes

    In Paraguay, the Colorado Party has held power for seven decades. On Election Day, it rounds up Indigenous people and pays them for their votes.The Espinillo Indigenous community is 13 miles from the nearest polling station — and no one in the village has a car.So two weeks ago, on the eve of Paraguay’s election, Miguel Paredes, a retired ambulance driver turned local politician, loaded the Indigenous families onto a bus and brought them to the side of a highway, a short walk from the polls. “We want to look after them,” he said, standing watch with six young men he called colleagues.Then, after dark, The Times found a distinctive type of vote-buying, developed over decades, on blatant display.Mr. Paredes, 65, and his colleagues gathered some of the Indigenous people and took down their identification numbers. He told them they were to vote for the Colorado Party — the dominant, right-wing political force in Paraguay — and to make sure their fellow community members did so, too. The young men then walked the Indigenous people through a simulation of Paraguay’s voting machines on a phone, guiding them to vote for Colorado candidates.With New York Times journalists within earshot, Milner Ruffinelli, one of the young men, slipped into the Indigenous language, Guaraní. “That money that was promised to you, that’s all there, too, and Mr. Miguel Paredes is going to see how to get it to you,” he said. “We can’t give you anything here. You know why.” More

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

    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

    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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    Indigenous Voters Mobilize in Midterm Elections

    ANCHORAGE — Tesla Cox’s eyes filled with tears as she thought about watching her state elect its first Alaska Native to Congress this year, and what it could mean for the future.“If we can mobilize our people, we can really shift the way that our world is working for us,” said Ms. Cox, 31, who is Tlingit and gathered late last month with other Alaska Natives for a three-day convention, where their influence as a voting bloc was a major topic of discussion.“Our next steps are not just getting our people to go and vote, but getting our people to be the people that people vote for,” she said.Indigenous voters have become a major power center across the country in recent years, including in 2020, when the Navajo Nation and other Indigenous voters helped flip Arizona for President Biden. This Congress saw the first Native Hawaiian and Alaska Native elected and seated alongside enrolled members of tribes from Oklahoma and Kansas. The Senate confirmed Deb Haaland, a member of the Pueblo of Laguna, as the first Native American to serve as interior secretary.It is a trend that is expected to continue on Tuesday, when races that will determine control of both the House and Senate may come down to razor-thin margins in states with sizable Indigenous populations. There are nearly 90 Indigenous candidates on state and national ballots, according to a database maintained by Indian Country Today, a nonprofit news organization. Those candidates include Markwayne Mullin, an Oklahoma Republican who is likely to become the first Cherokee senator since 1925.“We’ve made a lot of progress in the country and we’ve made progress in the judiciary and in Congress and across the federal administrations,” said Chuck Hoskin Jr., the principal chief of the Cherokee Nation. “For us not to turn out during the midterms would send an unfortunate message to policymakers that our numbers aren’t there.”Alaska Native corporations have offered key endorsements that could help Representative Mary Peltola of Alaska, a Democrat who is Yup’ik, and Senator Lisa Murkowski of Alaska, a Republican who was formally adopted by a clan of the Tlingit tribe, keep their seats in Congress and overcome conservative challengers.Representative Mary Peltola, Democrat of Alaska, is the first Alaska Native in Congress.Ash Adams for The New York TimesSenator Lisa Murkowski of Alaska is the top Republican on the Senate Indian Affairs Committee.Brian Adams for The New York TimesThe five major tribal nations in Oklahoma have offered a rare joint endorsement of the Democratic candidate for governor, jolting the race into a tossup, while the Cherokee Nation has reignited its campaign for the United States to fulfill a nearly 200-year-old treaty and seat Kimberly Teehee as their congressional delegate.“We’ve been in a process of people awakening to the power of our collective voice,” said Judith LeBlanc, of the Caddo Nation in Oklahoma, and the executive director of Native Organizers Alliance. “That collective voice can manifest itself as political power on Election Day and in between election days on the issues that we’re advocating for.”The State of the 2022 Midterm ElectionsElection Day is Tuesday, Nov. 8.House Democrats: Several moderates elected in 2018 in conservative-leaning districts are at risk of being swept out. That could cost the Democrats their House majority.A Key Constituency: A caricature of the suburban female voter looms large in American politics. But in battleground regions, many voters don’t fit the stereotype.Crime: In the final stretch of the campaigns, politicians are vowing to crack down on crime. But the offices they are running for generally have little power to make a difference.Abortion: The fall of Roe v. Wade seemed to offer Democrats a way of energizing voters and holding ground. Now, many worry that focusing on abortion won’t be enough to carry them to victory.The assertion of political power and sovereignty comes as the Supreme Court seems poised to challenge some tribal authorities and protections and Indigenous voters face steep barriers to the ballot box. They could not vote in every state until 1957 and now face increasingly restrictive voting laws passed by state legislatures. Distances to polling stations still could require round trips of 100 or more miles for some voters.In May, a federal judge ruled that South Dakota violated portions of the National Voter Registration Act, which requires state officials to provide voter registration renewal guidance at several state-run agencies.“The majority of voting access laws that were passed since 2020 have all been passed in states where the Native vote is politically significant and it therefore targets Native voters,” Ms. LeBlanc said. “And it has a big impact, especially when it comes to early voting, access to voting, voting locations and transportation to voting locations.”Beyond representation in the highest seats of government, there has been an increased acknowledgment of needs of tribal communities across the country, though lawmakers say far more needs to be done to fulfill their obligations.A document circulated by Democrats on the Senate Indian Affairs Committee noted that lawmakers had approved the largest direct investment in tribal governments in American history in 2021 with passage of the $1.9 trillion stimulus law, and set aside billions of dollars for tribal health care, housing, broadband and transportation. Tribal nations and villages will receive funds through a new program created under the Biden administration to help them relocate and avoid the toll of climate change.People attending the Alaska Native Federation candidates forum in Anchorage last month. All of the top candidates in congressional elections made appearances.Brian Adams for The New York Times“It’s a long game and change doesn’t happen overnight,” said Allie Redhorse Young, of the Navajo Nation and founder of Protect the Sacred, who led voters on horseback to polling stations in 2020 and will lead a similar ride this year. “But as we continue to show up and as we continue to make our voices heard and ensure that our votes are counted, the more we will invest in this change.”In 1955, only one Alaska Native was elected to serve among the 55 delegates at the state’s constitutional convention. Sixty-six years later, Ms. Peltola made history in September as the first Alaska Native elected to Congress, when she was sworn in to finish the remainder of Representative Don Young’s term following his death. She is running for her first full term representing a state where Alaska Natives account for about 15 percent of the population.“It’s a remarkable evolution, really,” said William L. Iggiagruk Hensley, 81, a Democrat who is Inupiaq and served as a state senator. He was among those who were instrumental in the passage of the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act, which set aside about 44 million acres for a dozen regional native corporations in 1971 and elevated Alaska Natives into a pivotal role for the new state’s economy.“Our people have seen the importance of participating in the political process and have done so extensively,” he added.Mr. Hensley, like others who gathered for three days in Anchorage at the Alaska Federation of Natives convention, pointed to the role of Alaska Natives in helping Ms. Murkowski mount a successful write-in campaign in 2010 as another moment that underscored their political might. Ms. Murkowski has worked closely with Senator Brian Schatz, Democrat of Hawaii, to direct millions of dollars to the Indigenous communities in their states as the top lawmakers on the Senate Indian Affairs Committee.William L. Iggiagruk Hensley, Faye Ewan and Tesla Cox.Brian Adams for The New York TimesRyen Aavurauq Richards, who is Inupiaq, said she has seen that change in recent years, in part because Indigenous voters have come together more frequently advocating issues that impact their way of life, from commercial fishing to taking care of their lands. She once felt disconnected from the political process because to her the outcome of races in Alaska appeared predetermined.“The more that all of us tribes come together and discuss these big issues and work on them together — I feel like it has shifted my perspective and I can see a difference,” said Ms. Richards, 34, a peer support specialist based in Palmer.Beyond national representation, Indigenous organizations are urging participation in state elections as they fight to maintain gaming rights as a crucial part of their economy. Communities are also working to keep salmon from going extinct in the Columbia River Basin in the Pacific Northwest.Preservation of natural resources has been particularly acute in Alaska, where attendees at the convention cheered for Ms. Peltola’s emphasis on a “pro-fish” platform and others spoke about how they had become more involved in the push for better subsistence fishing in their regions.“We’re fighting for our salmon, we’re fighting for our food — that’s our way of life,” said Faye Ewan, 68, who lives in the Native Village of Kluti-Kaah and is a longtime champion for Indigenous sovereignty over fishing. “It’s sacred.”But like other elders, she said she had seen a change in the organizing and impact of Indigenous voters.“The younger generation is more educated and more aware of the policies,” Ms. Ewan said. More

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    Qué significa la victoria de Lula en Brasil para el clima

    Durante sus mandatos anteriores, el presidente electo ayudó a reducir las tasas de deforestación en la selva amazónica. Ahora dice que quiere volver a hacerlo.RÍO DE JANEIRO — En las elecciones más reñidas desde que el país regresó a la democracia en 1985, los electores decidieron traer de regreso al expresidente Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, quien hizo del medioambiente una piedra angular de su campaña, y rechazaron al mandatario en funciones, Jair Bolsonaro, cuya presidencia vio un fuerte aumento de la deforestación.“Brasil está listo para reanudar su liderazgo en la lucha contra la crisis climática”, dijo el domingo Da Silva en su discurso a sus seguidores tras la victoria. “Probaremos una vez más que es posible generar riqueza sin destruir el medioambiente”.El compromiso es importante porque Brasil contiene gran parte de la selva del Amazonas. En este momento, el bosque absorbe el dióxido de carbono de la atmósfera que calienta el planeta y lo almacena en las raíces de los árboles, las ramas y el suelo. Según un cálculo, hay de 150.000 a 200.000 millones de toneladas métricas de carbono encerradas en el bosque. Pero eso podría cambiar. Si la deforestación continúa, la selva pronto puede convertirse en un emisor neto de gases de efecto invernadero.La región es también uno de los lugares con mayor biodiversidad en la Tierra, y protegerla es clave para defendernos de una crisis mundial de biodiversidad.De vuelta a una lucha conocida: contra la deforestaciónCuando Lula da Silva asumió el cargo por primera vez en 2003, las tasas de deforestación eran más del doble de lo que son hoy. Él promulgó políticas que las redujeron un 80 por ciento. El ritmo más bajo de deforestación se registró dos años después de su renuncia en 2010.p y alentó a sus partidarios a continuar con la minería ilegal. Las tasas de deforestación comenzaron a dispararse nuevamente. Brasil perdió más de 3 millones de hectáreas de la selva amazónica entre 2019 y 2021.Quemando para limpiar la tierra en el estado de Amazonas en septiembre.Michael Dantas/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesAhora, Da Silva dice que planea reanudar las políticas que redujeron la pérdida de bosques.“Ahora lucharemos por el fin de la deforestación en el Amazonas”, dijo. “Brasil y el planeta necesitan una Amazonía viva”.Pero la resistencia a las políticas para proteger el bosque probablemente será fuerte entre los partidarios de Bolsonaro, tanto en el Congreso como en la Amazonía. Bolsonaro ganó en más de la mitad de los estados que componen la selva.El presidente ha defendido durante mucho tiempo las industrias maderera, minera y ganadera. Si bien son destructivas para el bosque, estas industrias, que a menudo operan de manera ilegal, también brindan algunas de las pocas oportunidades económicas en la región.Fuera de Brasil: el centro de atención está en el sur globalLos dos mandatos de Da Silva como presidente, de 2003 a 2010, estuvieron marcados por iniciativas para reformar los órganos de gobierno mundial, como el Consejo de Seguridad de las Naciones Unidas, y para elevar el perfil de los países en desarrollo en los asuntos mundiales.Hay señales de que podría volver a hacer de esos esfuerzos una prioridad, esta vez con un énfasis especial en los problemas climáticos.Él puede “movilizar a otros países en el sur global para insistir que cualquier reforma que se haga a la gobernanza global asuma el tema del clima con seriedad, pero que esto también tiene aportes de los países en desarrollo”, dijo Adriana Abdenur, quien dirige Plataforma Cipó, una organización de investigación en Brasil que se enfoca en la política climática.Meses antes de las elecciones, los asesores de Da Silva se estaban coordinando con Indonesia y la República Democrática del Congo a fin de presionar a las naciones ricas para que amplíen su financiamiento para proteger a los bosques. Marina Silva, su exministra de Medioambiente, dijo a Reuters el lunes que Da Silva enviaría a un representante a la COP27, la cumbre climática mundial que comienza el domingo en Egipto. Un portavoz de Da Silva dijo que el asunto aún se estaba decidiendo.El principal asesor de asuntos exteriores de Da Silva, Celso Amorim, dijo que el presidente electo también planeaba invitar a los líderes regionales a una cumbre sobre la selva amazónica en 2023. Es una señal de que planea fortalecer la Organización del Tratado de Cooperación Amazónica, lo cual podría facilitar a los países de la región unirse para diseñar estrategias que protejan el bosque y atraigan inversión extranjera para proyectos de desarrollo sostenible.Cuando Da Silva era presidente, Brasil creó uno de los mecanismos más importantes para la cooperación climática en la gestión forestal, el Fondo Amazonía. De 2009 a 2019, Noruega y Alemania donaron más de 1200 millones de dólares al fondo, que se convirtió en uno de los mecanismos de financiación más importantes para las agencias de protección ambiental en Brasil.Bolsonaro disolvió el órgano rector del fondo, que congeló todas sus operaciones, pese a que su gobierno luchaba por combatir los delitos ambientales. El domingo, el ministro de Clima y Medioambiente de Noruega dijo a los periodistas que se pondría en contacto con Da Silva para reanudar la cooperación entre los dos países.Está previsto que Da Silva asuma la presidencia el 1 de enero.Manuela Andreoni, actualmente radicada en Brasil, escribe en el boletín Climate Forward. Anteriormente fue becaria en Rainforest Investigations Network, donde examinó las fuerzas que impulsan la deforestación en la Amazonía. @manuelaandreoni More