Associate Professor of Anthropology at University of Texas at Arlington, Ritu Gairola Khanduri specializes in visual anthropology with a particular interest in political cartoons. Dr Khanduri has written on the significance of cartoons in Indian politics and presented papers at the Silha Center for Ethics & Hubbard School of Journalism, University of Minnesota, Miranda House College for Women, University of Delhi, Vigdis Finnbogadottier Institute for Multiculturalism & Foreign Languages, University of Iceland and the American Anthropological Association, Washington DC as well as having work featured in Visual Anthropology Review, The Journal of Graphic Novels & Comics, and History & Anthropology among others. She is currently working on a study of the portrayal of Mahatma Gandhi by cartoonists around the world.
Nasreen Sultana Mitu
Nasreen Sultana Mitu began cartooning in the Bangladeshi satirical magazine UNMAD and currently is an associate editor there; her political cartoons have also appeared in bdnews24.com and New Age and she has won numerous of awards over a decade and a half of cartooning. Besides this she held an assistant professor post at the Institute of Education and Research, University of Rajshahi until October 2018, developing cartoon-based science educational resources. With a view to popularizing science beyond formal classrooms, she founded her own organization Project Tiktaalik which aims to develop printed and web-based science learning materials in cartoon and comic formats. Currently she is a national consultant for UNICEF Bangladesh, working closely with the National Curriculum and Textbook Board (NCTB) of Bangladesh.
UN experts, free expression NGOs call on Bangladesh to acquit Ahmed Kabir Kishore
Earlier this week three of the United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights’ Special Rapporteurs have co-signed a written statement seeking the immediate release of Bangladeshi cartoonist Ahmed Kabir Kishore, jailed in May 2020 and winner of CRNI’s Robert Russell Courage in Cartooning Award. Today we have done likewise together with Cartooning For Peace and Reporters Without Borders (RSF).
In their intervention dated December 16th Karima Bennoune – Special Rapporteur in the field of cultural rights, Irene Khan – Special Rapporteur on the right to freedom of opinion and expression and Tlaleng Mofokeng – Special Rapporteur on the right of everyone to the enjoyment of the highest attainable standard of physical and mental health wrote:
“Around the world, COVID-19 outbreaks in prisons increase the danger of harm or death of individuals with underlying health conditions such as diabetes, hypertension and chronic respiratory conditions. Bangladeshi authorities have released thousands of individuals due to the threat that COVID-19 poses in prisons, and there seems to be no legitimate reason to refuse Mr. Kishore’s request for bail. We urge Bangladesh to release Mr. Kishore on humanitarian grounds to avoid a further deterioration of his health. During the pandemic, it is more vital than ever to respect the rights of artists such as [Mr. Kishore] to express dissenting views. Not only are these rights internationally guaranteed, they play a vital role in promoting critical policy discussions. Silencing their voices harms their human rights – and also puts everyone at greater risk.”
Their public contribution follows that made by Maria Arena, chair of the European Parliament’s subcommitee on human rights, dated October 8th.
In a joint statement with Cartooning For Peace and Reporters Without Borders (RSF) we are today redoubling our demands for the humane and just treatment of Ahmed Kabir Kishore as a matter of utmost urgency, saying in part:
“More than seven months on from Ahmed Kabir Kishore’s arrest by the Rapid Action Battalion – nominally the police division deployed against the worst, most dangerous criminals in Bangladesh – time is up for both them and the government they serve. Beyond initial charges made, no case has been substantiated […] Even allowing for the delays that might have been the consequence of the pandemic, the full case against Kishore should have been articulated by now […] Enough is enough. Ahmed Kabir Kishore should be released immediately and all charges against him dismissed at the first opportunity.“
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UPDATE – JANUARY 21 2021: multiple human rights organisations have joined voice in calling for Kishore’s release. We agree with the strongly-worded statement from exiled campaigners Shuddhashar (Norway), saying “[we] firmly believe that criticism of any kind, whether uttered, penned or drawn, is by no means a crime.” Kishore’s name is also included in the latest release about increasing authoritarianism in Bangladesh from the Asian Human Rights Commission (Hong Kong) – “[they] have been using the COVID-19 pandemic as an additional excuse for encroaching on the freedoms of assembly, expression, including the freedom of the press.” – and report on arbitrary detentions in the country from Amnesty International (UK) – “We call on the Bangladesh authorities to immediately and unconditionally release all artists unlawfully detained, drop the charges against them, and guarantee people’s right to freedom of artistic expression and creativity, as enshrined in domestic and international law.”
To Report a Cartoonist in Danger Email Cartoonists Rights Network International
Erdoğan versus Charlie Hebdo: “dull and on-the-nose satire”
As diplomatic relations between France and Turkey deteriorate over the dozen Jyllands-Posten “Muhammad cartoons” reprinted by Charlie Hebdo magazine, cited in the terrorist atrocity there in 2015 and more recently the killing of teacher Samuel Paty, President Erdoğan has been caricatured as a slovenly lech on the latest cover of the magazine, prompting a criminal investigation. Our Executive Director Terry Anderson gives his personal response to the Turkish leader’s new effort to lead the global conversation on the limits of free expression.
“For as long as I have been associated with CRNI – in fact, since the earliest days of the organisation itself – Recep Tayyip Erdoğan has been an ardent, committed and lavish persecutor of cartoonists, first as prime minister and then as president of Turkey.
“The repeated criminal prosecutions of Musa Kart are the most obvious example but the list of other incidents under his premiership is extensive: the repeated detention of Doğan Güzel, inaugural winner of our Courage in Cartooning Award; cartoonists Bahadir Baruter and Ozer Aydogan of Penguen magazine, fined for maybe insulting Erdoğan (all depending on your interpretation of a drawing of a hand gesture); Cumhuriyet columnists Hikmet Çetinkaya and Ceyda Karan, jailed for running Charlie Hebdo cartoons; Brazilian cartoonist Carlos Latuff, kicked off Turkish internet, his local book publisher harassed by police; Le Man magazine under attack and banned from newsstands; the closure of Gırgır magazine and detention of cartoonist Seyfi Şahin; and the jailing of graphic novelist Nuri Kurtcebe, again for ‘insulting’ the president.
“The situation intensified after the 2016 coup attempt and subsequent referendum in 2017 that rendered additional powers to the presidency. The Punto 24 organisation’s Expression Interrupted project continues to exhaustively catalogue the state’s grand effort to undermine and destroy independent media and critical voices in Turkey.
“That Erdoğan – the industrial-scale censor; this monstrous egotist unable to abide the least suggestion of an insult real or imagined; the world’s foremost serial prosecutor of activists, artists, comedians, critics, reporters and rebels – might now try to style himself an authority on the limits of free speech is absurd. As for references made to “cultural racism and hatred” I leave anyone familiar with the history of the Kurdish people to judge the sincerity with which modern Turkey expresses that kind of grievance.
“So soon after the grotesque murder of teacher Samuel Paty and while the trial of alleged co-conspirators in the 2015 attack at Charlie Hebdo continues the chances of French citizens being extradited over cartoons are quantumly remote, and Erdoğan knows it. He and his cabinet’s stance is populism and nationalism through and through, any professed offence a wearily familiar refrain, any attempt to monopolise the moral high ground laughable on its face. If I didn’t know better I’d say he’d finally given up on politics and was giving satire, albeit rather dull and on-the-nose satire a whirl.”
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Testimonies: PXMolina
“… without [CRNI] I may not have had the chance to move to a safer place outside Nicaragua when things got really dangerous at the end of 2018. I’m able live in a far more decent way, without luxuries for sure, but also without problems…”
CRNI Executive Director Terry Anderson interview with Nicaraguan cartoonist and refugee Pedro X Molina, winner of our annual Courage in Cartooning Award in 2018.
Pedro describes the circumstances that forced him to leave his home and seek respite from his tormentors in the USA, an experience that echoes childhood years when his family fled to Guatemala.
This interview was conducted in 2020, in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic; at that time CRNI expressed deep concerns about the future of cartooning. This forms part of a series of testimonies intended to help illustrate CRNI’s work in support of threatened cartoonists.
Pedro, long before we considered you a cartoonist who needed help you were in regular contact with us and could always be relied upon to express solidarity with others when threatened. You’ve written and spoken eloquently about the purpose of cartoons in a society facing oppression. Explain your philosophy.
For me cartooning is much more than just a job, as a child I grew up in a country that didn’t have access to many things, because at that time Nicaragua was under an economic embargo. There were not a lot of choices to entertain yourself, so comics and humor were my major interest. But not commercial comics (superhero stuff) because those didn’t make it into my country due to the embargo. I read humor comics from Spain, Argentina and Mexico mostly, things like Paracuellos by Gimenez or Mafalda and Boogie by Quino and Fontanarrosa of Argentina, or the books of the great Rius from Mexico. All those comics had drawing and humor but also something more: criticism of their society and their governments. So looking back I think that’s what made the change for me. Maybe if I had grown up in a more conventional scene I would’ve ended up drawing superhero stuff or designing characters for videogames, who knows… But anyway, another thing that was always present at that time was censorship and a lack of civil liberties, the situation was so bad that my family ended up going into the exile (my first exile!). So in a new place, without family or friends, drawing filled a hole for me and being exposed to more freedoms outside my country I learned to never take those for granted. Back in Nicaragua I started doing cartoons, believing that it was a good marriage between my artistic interests and my interests as a critical person and a believer in freedom of speech and the press, things that were very new in my country at that time. Since then, I have always felt that there are three things that are very important in society: art, humor and criticism. And coming from a country like mine, having gained back its freedoms, every time I used to read about some other artist or cartoonist in trouble under authoritarian regimes I felt the need to say something and show support, because as an artist and a citizen I know what is to live under those circumstances. I’m still that way to this day.
Tell us about the main events in Nicaragua lately; many human rights organisations have expressed grave concerns about the crackdown occurring there.
Well, Nicaragua no longer has any of the civil liberties I mentioned, there is no respect at all for human rights and people live in fear of saying anything in public against the dictatorship of Ortega & Murillo because they can end up in jail or, even worse, a cemetery. The internet is the only place where people, can still criticize the dictatorship, albeit anonymously for the most part. Some of the journalists who went into the exile after the 2018 crisis decided to go back, two journalists accused of terrorism are now out of jail, but that doesn’t mean they have freedom. Their independent TV station is still in the possession of the dictator’s forces and the same situation applies to my colleagues at Confidencial. Our building is still occupied by armed security personnel despite our director going back and trying to assert pressure to see if the government would free our building, The fact is that we are still working from a small – and almost secret – office to keep putting out material on our website. Two of us [Confidencial staff], together with most of the journalists who had to leave the country in 2018, are still in exile.
You won CRNI’s Courage in Cartooning Award in 2018; what did this recognition mean to you?
It was HUGE! It helped a lot to put a spotlight not only on me – which helped me to be a little more safe, at least for a while – but also on the whole situation in my country. I got the chance to talk about it in several international forums. Also of course, we can’t forget that without it I may not have had the chance to move to a safer place outside Nicaragua when things got really dangerous at the end of 2018. Beyond that I have always admired those cartoonists who understand the role and the power of this medium, who respect it and take it so seriously, and many of the past winners of the award are in that category. So I was very honored to even be considered for it.
The offices at Confidencial were raided by the police in late 2018. What happened next?
As I said, our building is still occupied by armed forces of the dictatorship. We continue to work from an secondary site inside Nicaragua and from exile and have kept the digital news site going on without interruption. But as for freedom of press in general; El Nuevo Diario, the second largest newspaper in Nicaragua (and where I used to work before moving to Confidencial) couldn’t survive the censorship and the embargo that the dictatorship put on paper and supplies needed to work, and deciding to close after forty years. 100% Noticias, the independent TV station whose owner was put in jail for many months, is still likewise occupied by the dictatorship.
The few journalists who decided to go back are under constant harassment, surveillance and some of them have even received death threats from police officers. So I would say that things are even worse today because while all media outlets are struggling through the Covid-19 pandemic, the ones in Nicaragua must also deal with a criminal dictatorship.
Were there other ways in which CRNI supported you afterwards?
Yes! In the process of trying to get a new status to be able to live in the USA, even sending some money when they could. My biggest concern right now is that my residence in an ICORN city of asylum will end soon and my current visa will expire too and I don’t know what I’ll do after that.
Thanks to our friends in the ICORN network, you have enjoyed safe refuge in the United States. You told me before that there is a history of displacement in your own past; how has it felt to repeat it?
My first exile was in the 80’s; at that time Nicaragua was going through a civil war between the Sandinistas (funded by the Soviet Union) and the Contras (funded by the Reagan administration). I was a child back then. My father was working in the Sandinista government. He was working with poor farmers in the countryside, organizing cooperatives. After a few years, he started to notice the corruption growing inside the Sandinista govt and was very vocal about it. That resulted in him quitting his job but by the time he did so one of his friends, who was still inside the government, told him that he was already on the “black list”, meaning he was considered a “traitor” to the revolution so it would be better for him to leave Nicaragua immediately.
My father sold his old car and in a couple of weeks the whole family of nine left in a bus to the north of Central America. We went to Guatemala because we couldn’t afford to go any further. There we rented a shabby little house in a very poor neighborhood. It was very small, it didn’t have finished floors or walls, no indoor plumbing and the water would only be available for a couple of hours very late at night. We slept on a mattress right on the floor and cooked on a big empty powdered milk can over a small gas burner. I was ten years old at that time.
After a few months my father got a job in his field of work, my older brothers started working in car shops and the younger ones were then able to go to school. We ended up living there for four years. After the Soviet Union’s dissolution there was an election in 1990 and so we were able to come back to Nicaragua, but not without some hesitation; my father had a good job, was earning more and had more opportunities in his career than any he’d seen in Nicaragua, and he knew very well how the Sandinista party functioned and was pretty sure they would seek power again. But the rest of the family wanted to go back and in the end he relented.
Back in Nicaragua I finished high school and my father, seeing that drawing and art was always a constant with me during my childhood, decided to send me to college to study something related to that. He remained convinced the Sandinista party would come back for vengeance so once again he sold his car and with the money sent me back to Guatemala to study Graphic Design at the San Carlos University. His orders were to try to find myself a future there, working in advertising or something like that. But after a short while I decided to go home. My father was very angry, but he respected my choice. A year or two after I came back from Guatemala I started publishing my first cartoons in Nicaraguan media. I was then 19. And remained working there as a cartoonist until 2018.
And so here I am now, in my second exile. History repeats itself. Like my father, I had to leave Nicaragua for political reasons and because of threats, threats made by the government of the day, the same group back in power. But this time, thanks to CRNI things have been different. I’m able live in a far more decent way, without luxuries for sure, but also without problems (other than missing family and home). I am worried about what will happen next. It seems pretty obvious that I can’t go back to Nicaragua right now. And even if I were able, I can’t help thinking about my father’s experience. He was right, all the way: in his hesitance about our going back; about how his tormentors would return to power; about wanting me to build a life outside Nicaragua. He tried again in Nicaragua because we insisted, he gave up what was likely a better and secure future and of course was dismayed when I had to leave in 2018. We’ve never talked about how this experience of mine is a duplication of his. He’d be entitled to hold it against me, but he isn’t angry.
If I end up facing his ultimate decision, whether or not to leave whatever opportunities may come my way while abroad, I wonder what I will do. Should I break this cycle of repetition? Maybe I should put all this into some sort of graphic novel… or maybe that’s just my ego talking!
One of the most moving things I’ve seen you do is take advantage of the #Inktober trend to highlight the victims of state-sponsored violence in Nicaragua. How important is social media to a cartoonist trying to highlight such abuses?
In a place like Nicaragua social media is a vital space. Again, the internet is pretty much the only space with some sort of liberty in my country. Ironically, I wasn’t too much of an enthusiast until I started at Confidencial. They put pressure on me to have an online presence in social media as part of the team; we’re a digital outlet, so why not? I remembered that I had opened an account on Twitter that I never used and since at that time it was the least-used social media in Nicaragua (most of the people were on Facebook) I decided to get into it, being used at that time mostly by journalists. In 2018 I had a few thousands followers, but when the repression started to get more serious: radio stations were being burned; journalists started going into exile; newsrooms including ours were occupied; because of the killings people were not able to go into the streets to protest anymore. People started to follow journalists online to get their information and share their opinions with them, so we started seeing our numbers of followers grow very quickly. From there I decided to focus on using social media to denounce what was happening. The first thing I did was to collate the art (murals, cartoons, paintings, illustrations, songs) that was being created by the people all over the country during the protests, then to memorialise every victim of the dictatorship. I started doing the portraits of the victims using the Inktober initiative on October 2018, then again in 2019, and unless something happens I plan to continue this year. The result has been great, not only because it helped to highlight what has been happening and to help keep in our memory the victims of the repression, but on a personal level, it gave me a very intimate and special connection with the families of the victims. They started writing to me to see if I could include their loved ones in the project, sending me pictures and telling me how they were as people, their dreams, their desires, their hopes… It’s something that will stay with me for the rest of my life.
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Testimonies: Jamón y Queso
“…when [CRNI] intervene, you do so as an important group of activists dedicated to the world of cartoons… Artists defending an artist.”
CRNI Executive Director Terry Anderson interview with Equatorial Guinean graphic novelist Ramón Nsé Esono Ebalé, aka Jamón y Queso, winner of our annual Courage in Cartooning Award in 2017 and currently one of our Regional Representatives with responsibility for Central Africa.
Ramón describes the very specific conditions for satirists in E.Guinea and the circumstances that lead to his arrest, trial and imprisonment on wholly bogus charges of counterfeiting.
This interview was conducted in 2020, in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic; at that time CRNI expressed deep concerns about the future of cartooning. This forms part of a series of testimonies intended to help illustrate CRNI’s work in support of threatened cartoonists.
Ramón, our award is often given to editorial cartoonists but you are a graphic novelist producing long-form satirical work. Can you tell us a little about your career?
My passion was always drawing in all its various formats and means of presentation. So when I started to leave behind drawing simply to have fun and entertain myself, I began to understand that drawing can serve to communicate with people. I began to seek out such work and among those people that seemed best at communicating were cartoonists and comic book artists. Comics are what I like most because they can tell stories with a fuller and more pleasing narration. But cartoons came first, and began with an invitation to publish in the national newspaper LA VERDAD del CPDS. The success of these early cartoons encouraged me to continue, and others were then looking for me as a cartoonist. A Spanish comrade was protesting our dictatorial regime and founded the LOCOStv blog. That blog became a conduit for my “eschatological cartoons”. It already existed before I stated work on the “OBI’S NIGHTMARE” comic. That comic, I believe, is why I eventually went to prison. The Equatorial Guinean regime certainly managed to censor LOCOStv after five years of daily coverage.
Describe the circumstances in Equatorial Guinea under President Obiang, Africa’s longest-serving head of state.
Corruption and tribal ethnic control, enabled by world powers, that does not hesitate to prop up a political garbage pile. The current circumstances are difficult to explain. There are too many lobbying on behalf of the regime to outsiders and supranational bodies like OAU. Many critics only want the same power as Obiang, and would use it to the same ends. Which means that the voices of true resistance can only achieve breathers [temporary relief], not lasting change, even after fifty years.
Rather than any particular cartoon, you were jailed on charges of counterfeiting. What happened?
“Rather” is an interesting word. You see, they did show me cartoons while I was held in “Guantanamo de MALABO”. These LOCOStv cartoons were very demeaning and dismissive of the dictator. And they triggered strong reactions when put out to the public over the blog. I have all the originals, still. But eventually they accused me of money laundering and counterfeiting, even while they continued to ask me about the LOCOStv drawings. The accusation of counterfeiting and laundering was gross and clumsy. But it served its purpose, to keep me in the penal system and then on to Black Beach Prison for six months followed by three months of waiting for my documents back. Nine months of curtailed freedom in total, and all simply for making LOCOStv popular.
You won CRNI’s Courage in Cartooning Award while still a prisoner. Your wife and daughter received it on your behalf and Eloisa spoke very movingly of you, deprived of pen and paper and unable to draw but still committed to freedom, democracy and justice. What did this recognition mean to you?
My life revolved for years around a huge family made up of my mother, my father and my seven brothers and sisters. I am from a home where ten people needed to have their space, their freedom and assume their responsibilities to the welfare of the whole. This family model, plus my father’s education in social issues, helped me understand that I’ve been luckier than others. And therefore I must not enjoy it all myself. I think that democracy in its most basic concept is clear: humanity. If I’m with one other person, half of everything is theirs, and that’s justice. In prison they started breaking me down by forbidding me to draw. But those people didn’t know me. I am free as long as I am healthy and have access to other people. So when I started finding opportunities to draw and others saw how I did it, I ended up teaching some to draw. And the military personnel that had previously prohibited drawing then brought me paper and pens. Suddenly I wasn’t the counterfeiter Obiang had shamed before the country on TV. People in EG know me for my drawing. So the award was received by my family. And I was excited to see the photo.
CRNI collaborated with other organisations led by EG Justice to campaign for your acquittal. Do you think international attention had an affect on your release?
I think that situations like Equatorial Guinea’s deserve more involvement from an artistic point of view than a political one. The aid that I get from EGJustice, for example, or the collaborations that I make with them, are based on the fact that I believe that they should invest in a model that supports culture and art. But they must take good care of the details or it will fail. When you helped me, you must have noticed that I was the focus of a unified effort by cartoonists in the USA and the world [as seen at left]. I think that for cases like those of EG, an artist collective is good for us. There are too many politicians in the square. What I would like to point out with is that “aid” made to Equatorial Guinean activists in trouble with the dictatorial regime must be couched more as a humanitarian – or more to the point humanist – mission than a political one. If Equatorial Guineans learn about an activist illegally detained by the dictatorship, they read it as a political act instead of a humane reading based on laws and rights.
Obiang has spent years “educating” us that politics is inherently bad (in EG nobody talks about politics out of fear) using dictatorial methods. When the dictatorship detains an activist, society will not be roused in opposition because they apprehend being “political”. But activists are often detained for issues far removed from politics, at least politics in that sense. And my case is an example. I was detained for drawing. But the regime knew that it would not reflect on them well, to be seen arresting people for drawing.
So when [CRNI or other orgs] intervene, you do so as an important group of activists dedicated to the world of cartoons, not on my behalf as expert legal activists or politicians. Artists defending an artist. Equatorial Guinean society did not “know” then that I was a cartoonist detained for his drawings, it was not transmitted that way. And with your campaigning you helped redress that. So, for example, when we help an NGO like Greenpeace, we do it thinking of ecology first, we do not think they are primarily political or artistic activists. It was important to me that it is stated that I am/was a detained cartoonist, not the “usual” story in EG where a detainee – a political prisoner – is one of the taboo topics that Guineans fear.
In a letter written after your release you said you were haunted by the cries of others tortured in Black Beach Prison. Have you recovered from your experiences?
I am a person who came out of prison after a brief time and with a measure of fame; I always say that my testimony about it has to be seen through a magnifying glass. But no-one can say that this issue I describe, of torture in EG prisons, is a lie. But before I became an activist, I was already torturing myself, and in or out of prison I continue to torture myself. Torture has been normalized in society, I suppose. I have a platform and can transmit the reality of what happened to the world. But it continues as lived experience for many who will not have a microphone in front of them. Who feel abandoned. And meanwhile it becomes normal to hear people scream in pain.
It is VERY NORMAL in EG to be beaten. We begin to be physically punished as children for doing childish things like playing or breaking a glass. They are the admonishments of a loving father or mother. You get used to the fact that a slap is “sometimes good to learn”. And so later, when we see another person tortured, we believe that it’s done to make them a better person. We “allow” torture because we do not yet understand that it is not “good to hit people.” Boys and girls. You can’t educate by hitting.
Where does your career go from here? Until recently you were making regular live video posts on Facebook. What’s been on your mind and what messages are you sending your audience?
I’m still the same. I maybe act the fool because it is difficult for a cartoonist in a country like mine to be taken seriously (although neither are writers and scientists). But it’s in these follies, amusing others, that I hope they retain the messages I’m sending. The general message is one of freedom. And I take responsibility. I would very much like to see a gallery dedicated to satirical drawing in Malabo, with or without Obiang.
The luck for me is that I am with my wife and my daughter [in El Salvador]. And so far my son in Spain is fine. The closure for a cartoonist is “profitable.” But we are getting restless. It would be good to get away from home for a couple of days. The videos correspond to an attempt to sensitize the population. I always try to approach the country’s socio-political problems with a humorous approach, some madness and quite a few doses of plain speech as a normal Equatorial Guinean would have it (the military man, the street vendor, the interior official, the people in public service, each has a particular way of speaking). With those same videos I promote the project of the civil platform SOMOS +. At the same time, my friends and acquaintances are supporting me in my virtual exhibitions, since it is very important that I continue to reach as many as I can with the core message, that we live under a tremendous dictatorship. So I suppose I have taken to communicating in a style copied from my own main audience (the nationals) that behaves like this sometimes. I want them to identify with me; we’re part of the same social, political and even spiritual reality.
