Epstein Files in Cyrillic? - We Knew It! - A Satirical Piece by Lily Ong

At long last, the West has finally arrived at the only logical conclusion: Russia is the mastermind behind the Epstein scandal! One must ask, whatever took them so long? It’s so blindingly obvious that Jeffrey Epstein was never a mere financier but a KGB-trained "honey-trapper" sleeper agent recruited during the Brezhnev era to collect kompromat on Western elites with the cold, mechanical efficiency of a Lada assembly line.

Even the island’s geography screams "Cyrillic." You see, before it was Little St. James, it was Koko Golden Beach—a classic, unsubtle Soviet nod to its KGB ownership. And those picturesque palm trees providing shade for his "shady" operations? Oh, please; those are actually “Russian Woodpeckers.” Lean in closely and you will hear the 10Hz tapping noise—the kind that used to broadcast shortwave radio bands. Do not underestimate these bad boys, though; at up to10 powerful megawatts, their signal can disrupt commercial aviation, amateur radio, and utility communications worldwide as they perform the twin duty of monitoring unwitting Western elites ashore to receive their doses of sun, sand, and state secrets.

Working harder than the swaying palms is the infamous blue-and-white temple. While the media refers to it innocently as a "gym,”, we know the truth! This structure is, in fact, a direct satellite uplink to a Siberian dacha. It’s also powered entirely by an underground industrial-grade vodka distillery—the same kind that runs the beaming station at St. Basil Cathedral. In fact, it once had a golden dome too, but that was eventually removed in 2017 by a Russian-controlled weather event codenamed "Hurricane Maria." Reports had it that the Kremlin thought its glare—visible from the International Space Station—would compromise their "covert" vibe.

But back to Epstein; he wasn’t just a spy but a psychological translator for Vladimir Putin. Had he not clued the Russian president in on the secret to negotiating with Donald Trump—specifically, identifying the exact brand of high-gloss hairspray required to survive a Baltic breeze—the Kremlin would never have managed to secure the Alaskan meeting. Through this lens, perhaps Americans should view Epstein as a misunderstood diplomat, merely expounding the finer points of gold-plated Manhattan sensibilities to an otherwise confused Vova.

So truth be told, the recently unsealed "Russian Files" are a treasure trove of devastating geopolitical secrets because Epstein didn't just pass intel but risked everything to secure footage of a former prime minister double-dipping a shrimp at a 2016 gala. The nerve! The files also exposed Bill Gates’s clandestine preference for Netscape Navigator over Internet Explorer (IE)—information so damaging it could collapse the tech sector if released in the wrong Telegram channel!

Of course, Russia is a fair judge. They don’t believe everyone on the island was a villain. For instance, the Kremlin’s official stance is that Prince Andrew was at best a Class D chess player, so he was begging for Russian women only because he desperately needed seasoned chess tutors to coach him on aggressive openings. You know what they say: to seize the initiative, you must put your opponent on the back foot! Well, the Volga Gambit teaches exactly that, though the British tabloids seem to have misinterpreted the positions involved… Others, we assume, were merely there to jostle over the exclusive distributorship for furry ushanka hats. Perhaps we ought to give those entrepreneurial spirits a break.

As for the "lost" tapes, Russia seeks our collective empathy. The cameras used on the island were vintage Zenit-E Soviet film models. Due to Western sanctions, the special chemical developer required to process the film is currently stuck in a warehouse in Omsk. Putin has already ordered a nationwide search for 1980s darkroom equipment in cities that no longer appear on the map, but progress is regretfully slow due to the enduring bureaucracy. We can only hope that a technician named Boris didn't spill beet soup on the only working projector back in 2004.  But know that if the footage turns up and appears grainy, it’s a tragedy of Soviet maintenance, not conspiracy.

Ultimately though, Russia has given the West a great gift. In an era of extreme polarization, they have provided the one thing every Western elite can agree on: no matter the scandal, it’s definitely Putin’s fault. This consensus alone is a diplomatic miracle. The West could, perhaps, be gracious—and let this one slide.

Halftime for the kid’s culture war by Sidney Sheltona

Turning Point USA’s decision to unveil an “alternative” Super Bowl halftime show lineup feels less like a bold counterprogramming move and more like a parody written by someone who hates satire. Kid Rock, flanked by a Trump daughter-in-law newly reborn as a musician, isn’t a cultural statement so much as a desperate scream for relevance. It’s the political equivalent of setting off fireworks at noon and insisting the sun acknowledge you.

The Super Bowl halftime show has always been a strange civic ritual. It’s not just entertainment; it’s a mirror held up to pop culture at a given moment. Prince in the rain. Beyoncé commanding a stadium. Even the controversial choices usually understand the assignment, unify, dazzle or at least dominate the conversation on artistic terms. Turning Point USA’s version, by contrast, feels like it was assembled to dominate nothing but a niche outrage cycle already on life support.

Kid Rock is the anchor here, a performer whose brand has long since drifted from music into perpetual grievance cosplay. He once represented a certain rowdy, unapologetic slice of Americana. Now he represents a feedback loop of culture-war applause lines, less rock star than traveling merch table for political resentment. That’s not rebellion; that’s brand maintenance.

Then there’s the supporting act; a Trump daughter-in-law stepping into the spotlight as a musician. Nepotism has always been a feature of American life but rarely has it been so nakedly repackaged as grassroots authenticity. We’re asked to believe this is an organic artistic emergence rather than a surname-powered vanity project. The insistence itself is the joke and not a particularly clever one.

Turning Point USA wants this to read as a brave stand against “woke” culture, whatever that word means this week. But rebellion requires risk and there is no risk here. This is the safest possible lineup for a very specific audience that already agrees with everything being signaled. It’s preaching to the choir while insisting it’s singing a revolution.

What makes the whole affair feel especially hollow is how transparently it treats art as a political prop. Music becomes less an expression than a delivery system for identity affirmation. Clap if you’re on the team. Boo if you’re not. That’s not counterculture; it’s team-building exercise with a drum kit.

The tragedy, if we can call it that, is that conservatism once produced genuine cultural provocateurs. Johnny Cash didn’t need to announce his politics to sound dangerous. He just sounded dangerous. The alternative halftime show, by contrast, sounds like it was focus-grouped in a donor meeting, designed to offend just enough people on Twitter to generate headlines while offending absolutely no one who matters to its backers.

There’s also something faintly sad about the obsession with the Super Bowl itself. If your movement is so confident in its cultural power, why does it need to parasitize the biggest mainstream event in America? The constant insistence on being “alternative” to a spectacle you desperately want to be associated with suggests insecurity, not strength. You don’t crash the party unless you’re convinced no one would invite you.

Calling this lineup “pathetic” may sound harsh but it’s hard to find another word that fits. Not because of ideology but because of the lack of imagination. This isn’t a vision of a different America; it’s a rerun. Same faces, same grievances, same performative outrage dressed up as authenticity. It’s political comfort food, microwaved and bland.

In the end, Turning Point USA’s alternative halftime show won’t be remembered as a cultural moment. It will be remembered, if at all, as a meme. A reminder that shouting about culture doesn’t mean you’re shaping it. Sometimes it just means you’ve mistaken volume for relevance and resentment for rhythm.

Freedom as a threat by Edoardo Moretti

When a Russian technology entrepreneur blasts out a blanket message to millions of Telegram users in Spain warning them that their government is “pushing dangerous new regulations” and sliding toward a “surveillance state,” it is tempting to read it as a bold act of digital resistance. Free speech versus authoritarian overreach. Citizens versus power. David versus Goliath, but with servers. It is also, almost certainly, nonsense.

What we are witnessing is not a principled defense of internet freedom. It is a familiar political maneuver dressed up in libertarian cosplay, the strategic weaponization of “freedom” by powerful tech figures who resent regulation, fear accountability and have learned that far-right rhetoric travels fast, hits hard, and requires very little evidence.

The language is the tell. “Surveillance state.” “Under the guise of protection.” “Threaten your freedoms.” These phrases are not neutral warnings; they are ideological shortcuts. They are designed to bypass nuance and go straight for the gut. They flatten complex regulatory debates into a binary of good versus evil, liberty versus tyranny. And they mirror, almost word for word, the talking points pushed for years by far-right movements across Europe and the United States.

This is not an accident. It is a strategy. Spain, like the rest of the European Union, is attempting to regulate digital platforms that have grown so powerful they now rival states in their ability to shape public discourse, influence elections and profit from chaos. These regulations are messy, imperfect and open to criticism. But to frame them as the birth of Orwellian tyranny is not critique; it is intimidation.

The Russian tycoon’s message is not aimed at lawmakers. It is aimed at users, voters and fear. It seeks to mobilize public outrage against democratic institutions by presenting regulation as repression. In doing so, it echoes a playbook popularized by Elon Musk, cast yourself as the lone defender of free speech, paint governments as censorious monsters and quietly ignore the fact that you already wield extraordinary power over what people see, say and share.

The irony is staggering. These men do not oppose surveillance; they monetize it. Their platforms harvest data, track behavior, algorithmically shape attention and sell influence at industrial scale. They decide which voices are amplified and which are buried. They ban, throttle, shadow and promote with minimal transparency. Yet when elected governments attempt to impose rules, suddenly freedom is under existential threat.

This is not a clash between liberty and control. It is a turf war between democratic oversight and private empires.

The far-right framing is particularly revealing. By invoking the language of victimhood and cultural siege, tech oligarchs tap into a ready-made audience primed to distrust institutions, experts, and the idea of collective governance itself. The message is simple, you are being lied to, your freedoms are being stolen and only we can protect you. It is populism with a server farm.

There is also a geopolitical undertone that should not be ignored. A Russian billionaire accusing a European democracy of authoritarianism, while operating a platform that has long been criticized for hosting disinformation, extremist propaganda, and state-aligned narratives, is rich in hypocrisy. It reframes regulation as oppression while ignoring the very real harms that unregulated platforms have already caused.

None of this means governments should get a free pass. Regulation must be precise, transparent and fiercely contested. Civil liberties matter. Privacy matters. Free expression matters. But these debates deserve honesty, not scare tactics. They require journalists, lawmakers and citizens to argue in good faith, not to panic at the first billionaire who shouts “tyranny” into a push notification.

What is truly being threatened here is not internet freedom but unchecked power. The power to operate above the law. The power to profit without responsibility. The power to shape societies while answering to no one.

When tech moguls adopt far-right phraseology to rally users against democratic regulation, they are not defending freedom. They are defending themselves. And Europeans should be clear-eyed enough to recognize blackmail when it arrives disguised as a warning.

Fika bonding! #116 #Cartoon by Thanos Kalamidas

 

Fika is a state of mind and an important part of Swedish culture. It means making time for friends and colleagues to share a cup of coffee and a little something to eat.

For more Fika bonding!, HERE!
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Alfred Adler - Power and Social Feeling by Rene Wadlow

Alfred Adler, whose birth anniversary we mark on 7 February, believed that there were two decisive forces at work in world history and in the life of each individual: a striving for power and a social feeling.  Both forces stemmed from man's upward striving from inferiority to perfection.

Alfred Adler (1870-1937), a Vienna psychotherapist and medical doctor, was part of the early circle of Sigmund Freud. However, the two men disagreed on what each felt to be fundamental positions.  In 1911, Adler left the Freud circle and founded his own approach which he called “individual psychology”.

For Adler, there are similarities between the evolution of man within history and the evolution of each individual.  In history, man, a physical dwarf in comparison with the animals around him and the forces of Nature, must compensate for this weakness by developing a pattern of cooperation with other humans around him. Likewise, each child is born, a dwarf in comparison to the adults around him. Thus each child must develop a sense of self-es time.  If this development is hindered in some way, as the result of brutal parents or a hostile milieu, the search for self-es time can become neurotic.  There can be over-compensation as well as a closing in on oneself.

Over-compensation can result in a quest for power.  Striving for self-es time and power is a natural process, but with over-compensation, the search for power can become the dominant aspect of the personality. Adler had read and been influenced by the writings of Friedrich Nietzsche who glorified the will-to-power.  For Adler, an over-development of the will-to-power can become a deep seated neurosis.  Only a health balance between the forces of cooperation and the individual will -to-power can make for a harmonious individual and a harmonious society.

In 1897, he married Raissa Epstein, a Russian who was also a student at the University of Vienna.  She was part of Russian Marxist circles living in Austria and a friend of Leon Trotsky and his milieu.  Through her, Adler joined socialist circles and became convinced that society helped to create the personality of the individual.  Therefore, for a health personality, there needs to be a health society, free from domination. Adler also saw the need for a society based on equality between men and women, so that the personality of both men and women could develop fully. He was an early feminist and champion of the equality of women and men.

His work as a psychotherapist and writer was halted by the start of the 1914-1918 World War.  As a medical doctor, he was incorporated into the Austro-Hungarian Army where he was able to contemplate man's neurotic striving for power. At the end of the war, both by his observations and the Marxist analysis of his wife, he felt that the will-to-power dominated the sense of social-feeling and cooperation.  In fact, power-hungary leaders and groups debased mass social feeling by using it as a thirst for dominance.  The social feeling of soldiers during the war was used for battlefield goals with efforts to exclude any social feeling for the enemy.  He wrote that when violence is to be committed, it is frequently done by “appealing to justice, custom, freedom, the welfare of the oppressed and in the name of culture.” Power-seekers transform social feeling “from an end into a means, and it is pressed into the service of nationalism and imperialism.”

The only way to counter this neurotic sense of power-seeking is to develop preventive methods by developing social feeling and cooperation.  During the 1920s, Adler stressed the need for the development of social feeling by developing new, cooperative forms of childhood education within the family and schools.  Adler stressed the profound experience of togetherness, an intense connection extending across the largest reaches of history and societies.

However, by 1934, he saw that the sense of togetherness in Germany and Austria was going to be used again to create togetherness among a small circle and subverting the use of social feeling by making it a facade for nationalism, racism and imperialism.  Adler was considered a Jew by the Nazis because his parents were Hungarian Jews although Judaism as a religion played little role in his intellectual life. He left to teach in New York City and died in 1937 on a lecture tour in Scotland.  He did not see the events of the Second World War, but there would have been little to make him alter his views on how the power principle can be utilized by antisocial leaders.

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Notes
For an overview of Adler's views of psychology see: Henry L. Ansbacher and Rowena R. Amsbacher (eds). The Individual Psychology of Alfred Adler (New York: Harper and Row, 1964)
For the late views of Adler on the need for a society based on social feeling see his book published shortly after his death: Alfred Adler. Social Interest; A Challenge to Mankind (London, Faber and Faber, 1938)

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Rene Wadlow, President, Association of World Citizens

Unfinished recognition by Marja Heikkinen

On Sámi National Day the flags rise in the cold light of the north and for a moment the world remembers that Europe has an Indigenous people. The remembrance however is brief, ceremonial and often strangely polite. It arrives wrapped in folk costume and weathered drums, then departs before asking any uncomfortable questions. Celebration, in this context, can become a soft substitute for recognition and recognition itself is still the unresolved argument at the heart of Sámi life.

The Sámi exist across borders that were never drawn with their consent. Norway, Sweden, Finland and Russia divide what was once a continuous cultural and ecological world. Modern states treat this as geography; Sámi experience it as a daily negotiation of identity. Who counts as Sámi? Who gets to speak? Who decides which traditions are authentic enough to be protected and which are inconvenient relics to be modernized away? These are not abstract questions. They shape access to land, language education, political voice and even the right to be counted.

Recognition, when it comes, often arrives with conditions. Governments are happy to acknowledge Sámi culture so long as it remains symbolic rather than sovereign. A joik at an official ceremony is welcomed; a protest against mining on reindeer grazing land is met with irritation or legal language. Identity is celebrated as heritage but resisted as authority. The message, sometimes subtle and sometimes blunt, is that Sámi people may remember their past but should not insist too loudly on shaping their future.

Language is where this tension becomes most intimate. Several Sámi languages are endangered, not because Sámi parents failed their children but because the state once worked very hard to make forgetting feel necessary. Boarding schools, assimilation policies and public shame did their work efficiently. Today, language revitalization is encouraged, yet often underfunded and bureaucratically tangled. A language can be praised as priceless while being treated as optional. When a language disappears, it does not go quietly; it takes with it a particular way of understanding land, time, and responsibility.

Identity, meanwhile, is frequently policed from both outside and within. States prefer tidy definitions, registries, bloodlines, official memberships. Sámi communities, carrying the scars of exclusion, sometimes mirror this defensiveness, wary of dilution or appropriation. The result is a painful paradox. People who feel Sámi in memory, practice or loss may still be told they are not enough. Colonialism fractures not only land but belonging, leaving people to argue over the remaining pieces.

Climate change has sharpened all of this. The Arctic is warming faster than the rest of the planet and reindeer herding, already strained, is becoming precarious. Ice forms where snow should be soft; migration routes break. Governments frame this as an environmental issue, occasionally even inviting Sámi voices into panels and conferences. But when economic priorities collide with Indigenous knowledge, the old hierarchy reasserts itself. Expertise is welcomed until it contradicts profit.

What makes Sámi National Day complicated is not that it exists but that it risks becoming an endpoint instead of a beginning. One day of acknowledgment can serve as a moral alibi for the rest of the year. It allows societies to feel generous without being just. The harder work lies elsewhere, in land rights that are enforceable, not symbolic; in education systems that treat Sámi history as central rather than peripheral; in political structures that share power rather than consult it.

Recognition is not a favour. It is a correction. Identity is not folklore. It is a living, sometimes uncomfortable insistence on continuity. To honour Sámi National Day honestly would mean accepting that celebration without change is a kind of quiet disrespect. The Sámi are not asking to be remembered. They are asking to be reckoned with, on their own terms, in the present tense.

There is also the question of visibility versus agency. Museums, textbooks, and tourism brochures increasingly feature Sámi imagery, often stripped of context and struggle. The gákti becomes a design element; the drum a logo. Visibility flatters the majority culture, which can admire without listening. Agency, by contrast, is disruptive. It demands consent, negotiation, and refusal. It means accepting Indigenous priorities that slow projects and complicate law. If Sámi National Day is to matter beyond symbolism, it should make people uncomfortable. It should prompt questions about whose laws govern land, whose knowledge is dismissed, and whose future is expendable. Comfort is easy; justice rarely is. The north remembers everything done to it. The question is whether societies built upon it are ready to remember too, not for a day, but for generations. That remembering would require humility, patience, and the courage to accept limits, including the radical idea that progress can be measured not by speed or profit but by repair, restraint and shared survival in a damaged, warming world together.

Tariffs and a marriage of convenience by Avani Devi

After two decades of polite handshakes, stalled clauses and diplomatic procrastination, India and the European Union have finally done what many suspected they would eventually be forced to do: strike a trade deal not out of romance, but out of necessity. This agreement is less a celebration of newfound trust and more a mutual flinch, a reaction to the economic aftershocks of American protectionism and the growing anxiety of losing export relevance in a fragmenting global order.

Let’s be honest. This deal did not happen because Brussels suddenly “got” India, or because New Delhi woke up enamored with European regulatory elegance. It happened because the United States, once the gravitational center of global trade has become increasingly unpredictable. Tariffs, industrial subsidies and a blunt “America First” logic have turned trade into a geopolitical weapon. Both India and the EU felt the heat. Both decided it was time to diversify their bets.

For Europe the math is simple and uncomfortable. Its export-driven economies are squeezed between a slowing China, a hostile Russia and an America that now competes rather than cooperates. The EU’s panic is not theatrical; it is structural. German industry is losing steam, French agriculture wants new consumers, and Eastern Europe wants relevance beyond being a geopolitical buffer zone. India, with its population, growth potential, and rising middle class, suddenly looks less like a bureaucratic headache and more like a lifeline.

India’s motivations are equally pragmatic. For years, New Delhi played the long game, protecting domestic industries, resisting intrusive standards, and insisting on strategic autonomy. But tariffs from the US and subtle trade barriers elsewhere have made it clear that non-alignment no longer guarantees market access. India needs export stability, technology inflows and partners that treat it as more than just a counterweight to China. The EU fits that role well enough.

This is why the deal feels transactional rather than transformative. It is about hedging risk, not reshaping values. Europe talks human rights; India talks sovereignty. Europe obsesses over carbon borders; India worries about development space. These tensions did not magically disappear. They were simply pushed aside by urgency.

Still, dismissing the agreement as cynical would miss its deeper significance. In many ways, this deal marks the quiet end of a certain global illusion, the idea that trade liberalization is driven by shared ideals. What we are seeing instead is bloc-building driven by fear, fear of tariffs, fear of exclusion, fear of waking up outside the supply chain.

And that fear is not irrational. The global trade system is no longer neutral. It is fragmented, politicized, and increasingly punitive. The US uses tariffs to discipline allies and rivals alike. China uses scale and state power. In that context, India and the EU choosing each other is less about compatibility and more about survival.

There is also a subtle power shift embedded here. India is no longer the junior partner begging for access. It negotiated hard, delayed often, and extracted concessions. Europe, once dismissive of India’s regulatory looseness and protectionist instincts, had to adapt. This alone signals how much the balance has changed.

Of course, the deal will not be smooth. European companies will complain about India’s bureaucracy. Indian exporters will struggle with EU standards. Environmental clauses will spark political fights. Farmers, unions, and activists on both sides will find reasons to protest. That is not a bug; it is the reality of modern trade politics.

What matters more is the signal sent to Washington. Without saying it out loud, India and the EU are declaring that they will not wait patiently while the US rewrites the rules unilaterally. They are building alternatives, however imperfect. That should worry American policymakers more than any angry press release.

In the end, this agreement is not a love story. It is a marriage of convenience forged in uncertainty. But history shows that some of the most durable partnerships begin not with trust, but with shared pressure. If managed wisely, this deal could mature into something more balanced and strategic. If not, it will still stand as a snapshot of a world where panic, not optimism, is shaping the future of trade.

A cut that crosses borders by Shanna Shepard

On February sixth, the calendar politely asks us to observe the International Day of Zero Tolerance to Female Genital Mutilation. The phrasing is bureaucratic almost antiseptic, as if the horror it names can be neutralized by a well-pressed title. Zero tolerance sounds firm, resolved, modern. And yet the practice it condemns persists, quietly stubbornly, within the borders of the European Union, a political project that congratulates itself on enlightenment, human rights and the moral arc of progress.

Female genital mutilation is often spoken about as if it were an imported relic, something sealed in distant villages and foreign pasts, safely quarantined from European life. This framing is convenient. It allows Europe to play saviour without examining its own living rooms, its own schools, its own clinics. The uncomfortable truth is that FGM is not only a problem of “elsewhere.” It exists in Europe because people live here, raise families here and carry traditions with them, including those that harm.

What makes this fact so difficult to confront is not ignorance but politeness. European societies pride themselves on tolerance, on multicultural coexistence, on the idea that respect means not asking too many questions. Cultural sensitivity, once a necessary corrective to colonial arrogance, has at times curdled into cultural paralysis. When harm is wrapped in the language of tradition, institutions hesitate. Social workers worry about appearing racist. Teachers fear overstepping. Doctors suspect but do not press. Silence becomes the compromise and girls pay for it with their bodies.

There is a peculiar hypocrisy in how Europe handles this. On one hand laws are clear. FGM is illegal across the Union prosecuted in theory with severity. On the other hand enforcement is timid, uneven, almost embarrassed. We prefer awareness campaigns to courtrooms, leaflets to indictments. We talk about education, dialogue and community engagement, all of which matter but often in ways that conveniently delay confrontation. The result is a soft fog of good intentions in which responsibility diffuses and urgency evaporates.

The language we use reveals our discomfort. We speak of “at-risk communities,” not of men and women who actively enforce control over girls’ sexuality. We speak of “harmful practices,” not of violence. We speak of “safeguarding,” a word so gentle it barely suggests blood. This euphemistic drift may soothe policy documents, but it does little to protect a child facing a blade during a summer trip abroad or a clandestine procedure in a European apartment.

It is also worth saying plainly that this is not about faith. FGM predates religions and ignores their boundaries. It survives because it serves power: regulating desire, ensuring marriageability, signalling obedience. To treat it as a religious issue is to grant it an unearned legitimacy. To treat it as a cultural quirk is worse. Culture is not a museum artefact. It changes and when it harms, it must be challenged, not curated.

Europe likes to imagine itself as a finished moral product, the end point of a long ethical evolution. But the persistence of FGM within its borders suggests something less flattering, that rights exist not because they are declared, but because they are defended. A law unenforced is a suggestion. A taboo unspoken is permission. Zero tolerance, if it is to mean anything, cannot be symbolic. It must be awkward, disruptive and at times, unpopular.

This means listening to survivors, not only as witnesses of pain but as experts in the mechanisms of silence. It means supporting those within affected communities who resist the practice and often face ostracism for doing so. And yes, it means prosecution when necessary, not as an act of cultural aggression but as a declaration that a child’s body is not negotiable terrain.

The European Union does not lack values. It lacks nerve. The challenge of FGM exposes a broader anxiety about how to defend universal rights in a plural society without collapsing into either relativism or repression. But there is nothing pluralistic about allowing irreversible harm to continue in the name of respect. Respect that demands silence in the face of suffering is not respect at all. It is abdication.

An international day will come and go, as they always do. Hashtags will circulate. Statements will be issued. But the measure of seriousness is not found in calendars. It is found in whether Europe is willing to look past its self-image and accept that zero tolerance is not a slogan. It is a choice, renewed daily, to side clearly, unmistakably, with those who cannot choose for themselves.

Until then, the cut remains a reminder that borders do not stop violence, only vigilance does, and that progress is not proven by declarations but by interventions made early, loudly and without apology, especially when the victims are young, female and inconvenient to protect in modern Europe today.

Me My Mind & I #06: Homeless #Cartoon by Patrick McWade

 

A different way to check internal and external ...thoughts!
'Me My Mind & I' is a cartoon series by Patrick McWade.
For more 'Me My Mind & I' HERE!
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Youth Voices, Artificial Intelligence, and Mental Balance: Insights from 1st Essay Comp. on Right to Analog Life by Theodora Vounidi

As societies increasingly navigate the promises and pressures of artificial intelligence, questions surrounding mental well-being, autonomy, and human creativity are gaining renewed urgency. While policy debates often focus on regulation, innovation, and ethical frameworks, less attention is paid to how different generations—particularly young people—perceive and experience life in an overdigitalized, contactless world.

The 1st essay competition, “The Right to an Analog Life and Mental Balance in the Age of an Overdigitalized, Contactless Society,” was launched to address this gap precisely. Organized and fully coordinated by Balkan Youth Cooperation (BYC) as a youth-led initiative and implemented within the framework of the Technology–Mind–Health event of the Global Academy for Future Governance (GAFG)and the consortium of its international partners, the competition offered a unique lens into how young people across educational levels and regions engage with the intersection of artificial intelligence and mental health.

Strong Engagement from Schools: A Signal of Early Awareness

One of the most striking outcomes of the competition was the exceptionally strong response from schools and secondary-level students. Teachers and students engaged with the topic not as a distant or abstract policy issue, but as a lived reality shaping everyday experiences of learning, communication, and emotional well-being.

This level of engagement suggests something critical: concerns about overdigitalization and mental balance are not limited to academic or expert circles. They are already present among adolescents who are growing up in environments shaped by constant connectivity, algorithmic mediation, and increasing dependence on digital platforms.

From a policy perspective, this finding is highly significant. It indicates that discussions on AI governance and mental health literacy must begin early, within educational systems, and not only at the level of higher education or professional training. The essays submitted by students demonstrated reflection, ethical sensitivity, and a strong awareness of the emotional consequences of digital saturation, often articulated through personal narratives and concrete examples rather than abstract theory.

A Broad Intellectual Spectrum: From Students to Emerging Researchers

Equally important was the diversity of academic and professional backgrounds among participants. Alongside school students, the competition attracted undergraduate and postgraduate students, early-career professionals, doctoral candidates, and young researchers.

This wide spectrum confirmed that the theme of AI and mental health cuts across disciplines, career stages, and epistemological approaches. Essays ranged from philosophically grounded reflections on autonomy and analogue life to policy-oriented analyses of digital governance to research-informed discussions drawing on psychology, neuroscience, and social sciences.

The coexistence of these perspectives within a single competition enriched the overall discourse. It revealed how the same technological phenomena—such as algorithmic decision-making, digital monitoring, or AI-assisted productivity—are understood differently depending on one’s educational background and life stage. For policymakers and institutions, this reinforces the need for inclusive, multi-level dialogue when addressing the societal impact of AI.

 

AI and Authorship: Observations from the Evaluation Process

A particularly insightful dimension of the competition emerged during the evaluation of the essays themselves: the varied and nuanced ways in which participants engaged with AI as a writing tool.

In several submissions—particularly from higher education participants—AI tools appeared to have been used during the writing process. However, in many of these cases, the use of AI resulted in texts that lacked a clear personal voice, emotional depth, or stylistic coherence. While technically polished, such essays often struggled to convey the individuality and lived perspective of the author.

This observation is important not as a critique, but as a policy-relevant insight. It highlights a central tension in AI-assisted writing: when technology begins to substitute rather than support human expression, the outcome may be efficient but emotionally flattened. In discussions on AI literacy, this distinction—between augmentation and replacement—deserves far greater attention.

At the same time, a highly encouraging finding emerged, particularly from school-level submissions. In many of these essays, no detectable use of AI tools was identified at all. These texts were often deeply personal, reflective, and contextually grounded, demonstrating that young people are fully capable of articulating complex ideas without technological substitution.

Generation Can Benefit from Technology Without Being Replaced

Taken together, these findings offer a cautiously optimistic conclusion. The competition suggests that the younger generation does not necessarily approach AI as a shortcut or replacement for human creativity. Instead, many young writers appear capable of engaging with technology critically, using it as a support where appropriate, while preserving their own voice, agency, and emotional authenticity.

This has direct implications for both education and policy. Rather than framing AI in binary terms—as either a threat or a solution—there is a need to cultivate ethical, reflective, and creative AI literacy, particularly among young people. The goal should not be to prevent the use of AI tools but to ensure that such tools enhance rather than erode human expression and mental balance.

Youth-Led Coordination and Global Reach

The idea for the Essay Competition originated from the Global Academy for Future Governance (GAFG)on an initiative from prof. BirgittaDresp-Langley and Dr.Katka Zarychta,which, recognizing the importance of youth participation in discussions on artificial intelligence and mental health, invited Balkan Youth Cooperation (BYC) to undertake its implementation. Within this framework, BYC assumed responsibility for the full operational coordination of the competition, including outreach and promotion, communication with schools, universities, and participants, as well as the management and early evaluation of submitted essays.

The evaluation process was conducted by a panel of scientists and experts working at the intersection of artificial intelligence, mental health, and social sciences, established on the initiative of the GAFG, and based on a clearly defined and transparent evaluation framework jointly developed by the Global Academy for Future Governance and Balkan Youth Cooperation, ensuring a balanced assessment of relevance, originality, argumentation, language quality, and impact potential.

This collaboration was based on a clear division of roles. GAFG provided the institutional framework and the broader policy environment of the Technology–Mind–Health event, while BYC acted as the main implementing body of the Essay Competition, drawing on its youth-led character and existing networks.

As expected, the Greek and, more broadly, the European audience was more closely connected to the organizing youth network, which was reflected in a higher number of submissions from Europe. This proximity—geographical, organizational, and linguistic—played a significant role in participant engagement. At the same time, conscious efforts were made, within a limited timeframe, to extend the reach of the call beyond established networks and towards a more global audience.

These efforts resulted in participation from a wide range of regions, including Bangladesh, Nigeria, the Philippines, India, and Singapore, demonstrating the global relevance of the competition’s theme despite geographic constraints. This international dimension was also reflected in the final results of the competition, with the top five positions awarded to participants from Greece, Italy, the Philippines, India, and Singapore(while the latest, miss Ong, is just 11 years old).

The experience gained through this first edition has provided valuable insights for future planning. Preparatory work has already begun for the next essay competition, with a strengthened and more strategically designed international dissemination and outreach plan, aiming to ensure broader geographical balance and participation from all regions of the world.

Reflections for Future Governance

The 1st essay competition demonstrated that discussions on AI and mental health must be intergenerational, interdisciplinary, and inclusive. The strong participation of school students signals early awareness and concern. The engagement of doctoral candidates and young researchers confirms academic and policy relevance. The varied use of AI in writing offers concrete insights into how technology is already reshaping cognition, creativity, and self-expression.

Most importantly, the competition reaffirmed that young people are not passive recipients of technological change. They are active interpreters, critics, and potential shapers of future digital governance—provided they are given meaningful platforms to contribute.

Concluding Thoughts

As artificial intelligence continues to redefine social, educational, and professional landscapes, safeguarding mental balance and the right to an analogue life will remain a central policy challenge. The experiences and insights gathered through this youth-led essay competition illustrate both the risks of overdigitalization and the resilience of human creativity.

By listening to youth voices across age groups and academic levels, institutions can better understand how to design policies that support mental well-being while embracing responsible technological innovation. In this sense, the competition was not only an academic exercise but also a reflection of the future governance conversations that urgently need to take place.

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Theodora Vounidi is a PhD candidate in the Department of Humanities at Democritus University of Thrace and co-founder and youth worker at the NGO Balkan Youth Cooperation. She has worked across diverse fields of civil society, within European Union institutions, and at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Hellenic Republic. Her interests include civic engagement and the training of young people in research methodology in the humanities.

AntySaurus Prick #124 #Cartoon by Thanos Kalamidas

 

Dino is a vegetarian virgin dinosaur and his best friend is Anty,
a carnivorous nymphomaniac ant.
They call themselves the AntySaurus Prick and they are still here
waiting for the comet to come!

For more AntySaurus Prick, HERE!
For more Ovi Cartoons, HERE!

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