A protester is detained by Azerbaijani police in the capital, Baku, 11 March 2011                                                         

Photograph: Atilay Abbas

As 2011 dawned, a wave of protest across the Middle East and North Africa overthrew and challenged dictatorial regimes inspiring others to take action. Azerbaijani activist, Arzu Geybullayeva speaks to journalist Aoife Allen

As 2011 dawned, a wave of protest across the Middle East and

North Africa overthrew and challenged dictatorial regimes.

Populations that had reached breaking point were able to use new

media to organise, by passing traditional news sources and means

of communication tightly controlled by the state.

Inspired by what they saw, Azerbaijani activists organized a youth

protest to take place in Baku on 11 March using Facebook. Some

4,000 people joined the online group and a few hundred came out

on the day. According to Human Rights Watch, those who turned

out were heavily outnumbered by police, detained by the dozen and

dispersed using violence. Sporadic protests and arrests of activists

have taken place since across the country.

Arzu Geybullayeva is one of the Facebook group organisers and a

journalist, blogger and human rights activist. Petit and fresh faced,

she does not look like an enemy of the state. However, her blog,

Flying Carpets and Broken Pipelines, has the attention of the Aliyev

dynasty, Azerbaijan's ruling family of 19 years. The English

language blog is an information source for human rights

organisations in the region and a channel for activists inside the

country to get reports of abuses out. Since the March protests,

Geybullayava has been advised not to return to Azerbaijan and she

currently lives in Turkey with her husband.

"The government thinks I'm trying to overthrow the regime," she

says. "They think I'm running an underground movement with a lot

of people in it."

"We were declared enemies of the state and had our pictures

posted online. It was pretty interesting to see how seriously this was

pursued."

Although probably best know internationally as this year's winner of

the Eurovision Song Contest in May, Azerbaijan is a one-party state

well versed in endemic corruption, suppression of press freedom,

unequal distribution of oil revenues, and rigged elections.

Recent analysis by Transparency International finds that, "the

justice sector suffers from weak enforcement, lack of transparency

and limited independence as the executive branch exerts strong

control over judicial appointments."

Since March, members of the opposition and social media activists

have been arrested and imprisoned on charges of hooliganism,

'auto-hooliganism' (motoring offences), drug offences and draft

evasion. In 2009, two young activists who made a satirical political

video about an imported donkey enjoying a better standard of living

than most Azerbaijanis were tried on hooliganism charges and

sentenced to two years and two and a half years after the video

went viral on Youtube. They were released in December 2010

after having served half their terms.

Only in May this year did state authorities release Eynulla Fatulayev,

an independent journalist and newspaper editor who has been in

prison since 2007 on unsubstantiated charges including tax evasion

and threatening terrorism. The European Court of Human Rights

(ECtHR) ruled in April 2010 that his right to freedom of expression

had been violated and the Azerbaijani Supreme Court cleared some

of his convictions. However, the authorities claimed to have found

drugs in his possession in prison and brought fresh charges against

him.

His release was welcomed by human rights organisations in the

region. "We are overjoyed that Fatullayev is finally free and at

home with his family," said Giorgi Gogia, South Caucasus

researcher at Human Rights Watch. "But it is outrageous that

he should have been imprisoned in the first place. Authorities

should immediately vacate the convictions against Fatullayev

and compensate him."

In 2003 and 2005, Azerbaijan saw widespread public protest in

response to rigged presidential and parliamentary elections. Police

dispersed violently and there were hundreds of arrests and

beatings. Geybullayeva feels that the Azerbaijanis who protested

then are disillusioned with protest and prefer to get on with daily life

as quietly as possible. If the protest movement is confined to a

small group of young activists, why the heavy handed government

response to relatively small pockets of dissent?

"I feel that the government is really intimidated." she says. "They're

afraid of what's happened in the Arab world, that something similar

might happen."

"They also know that young people know what they're doing and

have access to international media. Especially when my two friends

[the makers of the donkey viral video] got arrested, their case was

on the Washington Post, New York Times, the BBC. Hilary Clinton

made a statement. There's an understanding in government that

these are the people that might pose a danger to us."

For now, Geybullayeva will continue blogging, and she is planning to

produce a handbook for activists on how to use social media.

It remains to be seen whether the affects of this year's 'Arab

Spring' will continue to spread beyond the region.

A woman waves the Egyptian flag during a protest in Egypt

Photograph: Lilian Wagdy

In the initial months of 2011, the Facebook Revolution was the hottest headline around the world - modern, relevant and easily digestible for a western audience. Pundits lauded the organizing powers of social media and marveled at a movement that seemed to have erupted out of nowhere.

But critics argue that much of the western media's coverage simplified a complex social and political change that was years in the making. Noha Atef, an Egyptian journalist, blogger and human rights activist finds the title demeaning to the memory of at least 800 Egyptians who died during Mubarak's overthrow.

"Facebook and Twitter are available almost everywhere but the revolution happened only in some countries," she says. "It's not Facebook or Twitter [that are to thank for the change], it's the people who are using them. The protest itself was people with determination, with hopes, with ideas. Why didn't we call the fall of the Berlin Wall the TV Revolution? Every time has its own media."

 The Internet and new media have opened up new public spaces where traditional news sources are tightly controlled by the state. However, while social media were useful in sharing news of the protests between some groups and to news media outside Egypt, the protests were the result of a long chain of events and factors that brought the Egyptian population to breaking point at the beginning of the year.

Implementation from the mid 1990s of neo-liberal economic reforms reduced services and state sector employment, and reversed land reform policies favorable to the rural poor. These socio-economic pressures resulted in a sharp rise in labor activism. Further factors were a new willingness to cooperate between the younger generation of the Muslim Brotherhood and secular pro-democracy campaigners, and the establishment of the Kafayah (enough in Arabic) movement in 2004, an anti government movement that used blogging and other new media to oppose the regime. Rigged elections in 2005 and 2010 provoked public outrage, and the murder by the central security forces in 2010 of Khaled Sa'id, a middle class computer programmer, is thought to have shocked the urban elite out of complacency. In a context of routine police brutality and ever worsening socio-economic conditions, the tension between the state and the people came to a head.

Dr Amnon Aran, a lecturer in International Relations of the Middle East at City University, London, says, "The protest that grew in Tahrir Square was the result of traditional mobilization. It wasn't Facebook that called the millions to the street, it was the Muslim Brotherhood, professionals and other grassroots that movements that already existed."

"I wouldn't credit it with the sort of transformative role that it has been given by some western commentators. Really the turning point was when some of the state industries went on strike."

If the Facebook in Facebook Revolution is something of a misnomer, what of the revolution itself? While the protesters of January and February were victorious in seeing Hosni Mubarak off and his immediate 'clique', the state apparatus remain in place, and moves to prosecute its most reviled members are faltering. There is growing fear that life will go back to oppression as usual without a further struggle.

Families seeking justice for those killed during Mubarak's ousting have continued to demonstrate since February, and on 28 and 29 June, Tahrir Square once again erupted in scenes of mass police brutality, with the Egyptian Organisation for Human Rights (EOHR) estimating around 1400 civilians injured in clashes with the security forces, of whom 70 were also injured. The security forces are accused of deploying teargas, rubber bullets and paid thugs to attack peaceful protestors, as occurred during the January protests and countless demonstrations, strikes and protests in the preceding years.

Egyptian activists, angered by the slow pace of change in the country, held another mass protest in Tahrir Square on Friday 8 July, leaving no doubt that while the revolution has not yet happened, it's certainly in progress. Namees Arnous, a young woman from Cairo who was present for all eighteen days of the January/February protests, says that the current demonstrations are crucial to getting the job done.

"Some people don't like that the protests have started again and they advocate stability. But these demonstrations will keep the revolution alive, to achieve what it started out for. It's the key to our lives, to our future."

A man with his face covered takes part in a demonstration in the town of Cherán, Mexico.

Photograph: Clayton Conn

Since April this year the Mexican town of Cherán has been defending itself against illegal loggers backed by a local drug cartel. Increasingly isolated and running out of supplies townspeople opened up the town on 26 June to welcome Javier Sicilia's caravan of peace

By Ela Stapley

Rain poured down, but the demonstration continued unabated. Masked men and boys in long raincoats cleared roadblocks of tyres and wood allowing the Caravan of Solace, Mexico's peace movement, into the mountain town of Cherán, Mexico.  As people marched down muddy streets, those gathered on the side of the roads cried out with shouts of "Cherán is not alone, your support we see."

But the indigenous Purépecha people of Cherán are very much alone in their fight against Mexican President Felipe Calderón's drug war, which has claimed 40,000 lives since 2006.

Illegal loggers, backed by the regions drug cartel, have been threatening the Purépecha's way of life for years. This community of around 20,000 has seen their natural habitat destroyed and faced threats, murder and kidnappings. Things came to a head on 15 April this year when townspeople stopped and detained illegal loggers. In reprisal, armed men, accompanied by municipal police, started shooting at residents, according to Amnesty International.

The town has since take charge of its own security. Living under a self-imposed lockdown, men women and children defend their streets in twelve-hour shifts armed only with wooden sticks, baseball bats and machetes.

"Much has changed here," says a 50-year-old man who wishes to remain anonymous. He adjusts his straw hat and pulls his red face scarf higher up over his nose to hide his face. He is one of many defending the town. This year they did not celebrate the local Easter festival because it wasn't safe. "They said they would come and burn down the town and kidnap those participating in the event," he states.

Kidnapping is something that Rosa Maria Hernandez is all too familiar with. The 46-year-old wrings her hands and stares ahead defiantly. She explains how her husband, Fernando Geronimo, was taken from their family home in front of their daughter on 10 February this year. She is certain she knows who has taken him, but is reluctant to name names. "The government has not investigated properly, they have made no advances," she states. "They say that they can not come now as the village is blocked off."

In this town where no one leaves or enters at will a group of teenagers gather to discuss what needs doing. "Right now we are painting to improve the look of the buildings," says Raul Ortiz Madrigal. "We want the town to look better." Raul who seems older than his 15 years is one of between 60 and 70 young people involved in the town's youth organisation. Since the town closed itself off, the children of Cherán have not gone to school. It is simply far too dangerous. "People ask if they don't go to school what are they doing?" he states. He straightens up and looks serious. "We are supporting and helping the town," he says. "We want to move it forward."

But these young people are also looking back into the past. They speak passionately about the forests that their community has lost. "These trees were sacred for us," says 17 year-old Rosa Lidia Huaroco. "Thousands of hectors and they cut them down in three months." The group tells of how illegal loggers took free-reign of their town, threatening residents. "We feel more secure now than before, now that we take care of our own security," Rosa says, she speaks quickly her anger evident.

And there was much more at threat than the loss of the community's forests. Her face darkens and she raises her voice. "When they had finished with the trees," she states eyes widening. "They said they were coming for the women of the town."

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Coco Fariñas takes his first sip of water, Santa Clara hospital, Cuba. Photo: Yoani Sanchez

After 134 days without solid food, or even a sip of liquid, Guillermo Fariñas lifted a red plastic cup to his lips and drank a little water. It was 2:15 in the afternoon on Thursday July 8, and from the other side of the glass in the intensive care ward where he was being treated, dozens of friends watching him burst into applause as if they had been witnesses to a miracle.

Fariñas had won one battle but still remains in a fierce war against death, because the land that has seen the action of this singular belligerency is his own body -- ultimately the only space available to him to carry out this campaign. His intestines are now like fragile paper conduits distilling bacteria through their pores, his jugular vein is partially obstructed by a blood clot which, if it detached, could lodge in the heart, brain or lungs; or more precisely, in his heart, his brain or his lungs. He has suffered four staph infections and at night a sharp pain in his groin barely allows him to sleep.

His shriveled esophagus was not ready for that first sip of water. It created such a pain in his chest that for a minute he thought he was having a heart attack, but he endured it in silence. On the other side of the glass, expectantly watching, were those who for days had been keeping a vigil outside the hospital, praying for his life, and others who had come from very far away to ask him to end his martyrdom and to be a witnesses to his victory. Not wanting to dampen the celebration of his jubilant colleagues applauding the triumph of his cause, he managed to turn a grimace into a smile.

Guillermo Fariñas's family allowed me to watch over him on this, the first night after the end of his hunger strike, and he allowed me to be a witness his suffering, his occasional crankiness, and his human weaknesses. Only then did I discover the true hero of this day.

On Surfari Haiti from Russell Brownley on Vimeo.