Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau

Moi franco-algérienne mon mari marocain avons demandé l'asile en Suisse mais harcelés, papiers confisqués, mis sur écoute .Droit de joindre l'Algérie mon pays.

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

Je vous laisses le commentaire de cette situation .
Tout ce que je demande c est joindre mon pays #Algerie

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

Benjamin Netanyahu lands in New York today to speak at the UN general assembly. This visit marks the Israeli prime minister's first time in the city since Mayor Zohran Mamdani vowed to arrest him for war crimes – and it's happening as support for Israel among US voters is taking an unprecedented plunge. Sixty percent of Americans now have an unfavorable view of Israel. (In 2022, only 42% of Americans said the same.) But what does this mean for Netanyahu’s hold on US politics? And how will it play into Israel’s October elections? Kai Wright and Carter Sherman are joined by two reporters with different perspectives on the Netanyahu story. Andrew Roth spent time reporting from Israel and the West Bank this summer, and Alice Speri has covered the pushback against Israel in Democratic politics here in the US
Hosted by Kai Wright and Carter Sherman with Alice Speri and Andrew Roth . Produced by Tiara Chiaramonte Suzanne Gaber Monica Espitia and engineered by Ivan Kuraev . Executive producer Rachel Humphreys, Source: The Guardian
Thu 24 Sep 2026 11.45 CEST

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

https://t.co/v3HVFNq6Ww

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

Benjamin Netanyahu lands in New York today to speak at the UN general assembly. This visit marks the Israeli prime minister's first time in the city since Mayor Zohran Mamdani vowed to arrest him for war crimes – and it's happening as support for Israel among US voters is taking an unprecedented plunge. Sixty percent of Americans now have an unfavorable view of Israel. (In 2022, only 42% of Americans said the same.) But what does this mean for Netanyahu’s hold on US politics? And how will it play into Israel’s October elections? Kai Wright and Carter Sherman are joined by two reporters with different perspectives on the Netanyahu story. Andrew Roth spent time reporting from Israel and the West Bank this summer, and Alice Speri has covered the pushback against Israel in Democratic politics here in the US
Hosted by Kai Wright and Carter Sherman with Alice Speri and Andrew Roth . Produced by Tiara Chiaramonte Suzanne Gaber Monica Espitia and engineered by Ivan Kuraev . Executive producer Rachel Humphreys, Source: The Guardian
Thu 24 Sep 2026 11.45 CEST

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

https://t.co/8X6nxo0cec

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

Top South African police officer charged with raping woman, 18, and grooming 16-year-old girl
Arrest of Shadrack Sibiya comes as country reels from cases of femicide and alleged police corruption and criminality
https://t.co/2Rk3ScQIRk

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

A revival of grassroots anti-racist movements is long overdue. But it must be of this time, attuned to the changing circumstances of 2026. Racism is not experienced equally. Class, gender and geography all matter. A hijab-wearing Muslim woman is more likely to be a victim of Islamophobia than a Muslim man. Those living in smaller, more isolated ethnic-minority communities are more vulnerable to racist attack. First-generation migrants have greater insecurity than the grandchildren of migrants. An effective anti-racist movement must reflect on these challenges and prioritise those most vulnerable to racist violence.

The good news is that we are starting to see a revival of this approach. A few months ago, I spoke alongside Grover at the launch of the Nottinghamshire Solidarity Network, which is taking a strategic approach to anti-racism by organising county-wide to ensure smaller ethnic-minority communities are not left isolated. A week later, I spoke at the launch of the Greater Manchester Workers’ and Tenants’ Association. Its members understand that the far right feeds on deprivation and despair in working-class communities, and they are seeking to organise on the basis of class in an attempt to offer a counter-narrative to that of division and hate.

All of these movements, past and present, understand that racism will not be defeated from above. It will only be defeated by us – ordinary citizens who refuse to look away.

Taj Ali is a journalist and historian and author of Come What May, We’re Here to Stay: the Story of South Asian Resistance in Britain

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

The Asian youth movements had a belief in the concept of political blackness as a banner that people of colour could unite under. To Tariq Mehmood, an Asian youth movement member who was born in Pakistan but raised in Bradford, there was no real difference between south Asian, African and Caribbean people: they were all the same to those who wanted to harm them. “We were called ‘black bastards’ on the streets,” he recalled. “We were commonly united with our African and Afro-Caribbean friends. They didn’t know they were black until they came here — I didn’t know I was a ‘Paki’ until I came to Bradford. We were united on those common issues of our oppression.”

They saw themselves as part of a broader working class. The Sheffield Asian Youth Movement and the Indian Workers’ Association, for instance, sent minibuses of their members to picket lines during the 1984-85 miners’ strike. They stood with white working-class communities fighting to save their industries, providing much needed financial support while challenging prejudice in these communities. Grover tells me that more than a decade after that strike, Kent miners were still attending Punjabi Sikh weddings in Southall because of the links that were built during that dispute.

These were movements rooted in their communities and strategic in their organising. They monitored the far right and mapped out who was most vulnerable to racist attacks. The Sheffield Asian Youth Movement had a big thick folder called the “fascist file”, in which they would compile information on local racists.

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

But things changed. As the 20th century wore on, anti-racist activism was increasingly institutionalised as the struggle moved from the streets to council chambers and boardrooms. Where we once had grassroots anti-racist movements rooted in communities, we now have a race-relations industry in which a few people are paid to tackle discrimination. We also have the rise of self-proclaimed community leaders under the policy of state multiculturalism who often speak on behalf of entire communities. Too often, they become the prism through which authorities engage with ethnic-minority communities.

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

The Asian youth movements had a belief in the concept of political blackness as a banner that people of colour could unite under. To Tariq Mehmood, an Asian youth movement member who was born in Pakistan but raised in Bradford, there was no real difference between south Asian, African and Caribbean people: they were all the same to those who wanted to harm them. “We were called ‘black bastards’ on the streets,” he recalled. “We were commonly united with our African and Afro-Caribbean friends. They didn’t know they were black until they came here — I didn’t know I was a ‘Paki’ until I came to Bradford. We were united on those common issues of our oppression.”

They saw themselves as part of a broader working class. The Sheffield Asian Youth Movement and the Indian Workers’ Association, for instance, sent minibuses of their members to picket lines during the 1984-85 miners’ strike. They stood with white working-class communities fighting to save their industries, providing much needed financial support while challenging prejudice in these communities. Grover tells me that more than a decade after that strike, Kent miners were still attending Punjabi Sikh weddings in Southall because of the links that were built during that dispute.

These were movements rooted in their communities and strategic in their organising. They monitored the far right and mapped out who was most vulnerable to racist attacks. The Sheffield Asian Youth Movement had a big thick folder called the “fascist file”, in which they would compile information on local racists.

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

The Asian youth movements had a belief in the concept of political blackness as a banner that people of colour could unite under. To Tariq Mehmood, an Asian youth movement member who was born in Pakistan but raised in Bradford, there was no real difference between south Asian, African and Caribbean people: they were all the same to those who wanted to harm them. “We were called ‘black bastards’ on the streets,” he recalled. “We were commonly united with our African and Afro-Caribbean friends. They didn’t know they were black until they came here — I didn’t know I was a ‘Paki’ until I came to Bradford. We were united on those common issues of our oppression.”

They saw themselves as part of a broader working class. The Sheffield Asian Youth Movement and the Indian Workers’ Association, for instance, sent minibuses of their members to picket lines during the 1984-85 miners’ strike. They stood with white working-class communities fighting to save their industries, providing much needed financial support while challenging prejudice in these communities. Grover tells me that more than a decade after that strike, Kent miners were still attending Punjabi Sikh weddings in Southall because of the links that were built during that dispute.

These were movements rooted in their communities and strategic in their organising. They monitored the far right and mapped out who was most vulnerable to racist attacks. The Sheffield Asian Youth Movement had a big thick folder called the “fascist file”, in which they would compile information on local racists.

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

There it was: a pool of blood spreading across the pavement. A section of the high street had been cordoned off and a uniformed police officer gestured for bystanders to move along. It was the long hot summer of 1976, and a racist murder had stunned Southall in west London.

“What has happened here, officers?” asked Suresh Grover, then a curious 22-year-old, later to be widely known as a leading racial justice activist. “Go away, it’s just Indian blood,” was the response. Grover was soon to learn that 18-year-old Gurdip Singh Chaggar, an engineering student, had been stabbed to death by racist thugs the night before.

The late 1970s was the era of “Paki-bashing”: homes, shops and places of worship were attacked, while south Asians – young and old – were murdered on the streets. That day, Grover acted instinctively, taking some paint and daubing the pavement near the blood with the words: “This racist murder will be avenged. We’ll get you racist scum.”

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

Protesters against a National Front rally in Southall town hall are detained in April 1979. Photograph: PA/PA Archive/PA Images
This is the story of working-class youth who refused to turn the other cheek. From Southall to Sheffield and from Brick Lane to Bradford, the Asian youth movements were set up to physically defend communities from racist attacks. It was because of their heroic efforts that many of us in diverse towns and cities have grown up in safer environments.

But more than 50 years on, that racist violence has returned with shocking ferocity, a deterioration traceable to the summer of 2024, which marked some of the worst racist rioting in living memory.

In Hartlepool, a young south Asian man was walking down a street when he was punched in the face. Onlookers cheered, laughed and yelled racial slurs. “A Paki got banged,” one shouted, as those around him began to smash the windows of small businesses and kick down the door of a nearby house. In Middlesbrough, a group of white men stopped motorists and questioned them about their ethnicity, asking whether they were “white” before letting them through. In Rotherham and Tamworth, racist mobs tried to burn down hotels housing refugees.

And now? A seemingly relentless rise. Every five days, a mosque in Britain is attacked. The rhetoric of the far right has been mainstreamed.

After years spent researching and writing a book on the rich and proud tradition of political activism in the south Asian community, it seems clear to me that we cannot fight racism in silos. We must build broad movements that transcend racial and religious divides.

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

There it was: a pool of blood spreading across the pavement. A section of the high street had been cordoned off and a uniformed police officer gestured for bystanders to move along. It was the long hot summer of 1976, and a racist murder had stunned Southall in west London.

“What has happened here, officers?” asked Suresh Grover, then a curious 22-year-old, later to be widely known as a leading racial justice activist. “Go away, it’s just Indian blood,” was the response. Grover was soon to learn that 18-year-old Gurdip Singh Chaggar, an engineering student, had been stabbed to death by racist thugs the night before.

The late 1970s was the era of “Paki-bashing”: homes, shops and places of worship were attacked, while south Asians – young and old – were murdered on the streets. That day, Grover acted instinctively, taking some paint and daubing the pavement near the blood with the words: “This racist murder will be avenged. We’ll get you racist scum.”

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

https://t.co/LhFAvXuyW5

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

There it was: a pool of blood spreading across the pavement. A section of the high street had been cordoned off and a uniformed police officer gestured for bystanders to move along. It was the long hot summer of 1976, and a racist murder had stunned Southall in west London.

“What has happened here, officers?” asked Suresh Grover, then a curious 22-year-old, later to be widely known as a leading racial justice activist. “Go away, it’s just Indian blood,” was the response. Grover was soon to learn that 18-year-old Gurdip Singh Chaggar, an engineering student, had been stabbed to death by racist thugs the night before.

The late 1970s was the era of “Paki-bashing”: homes, shops and places of worship were attacked, while south Asians – young and old – were murdered on the streets. That day, Grover acted instinctively, taking some paint and daubing the pavement near the blood with the words: “This racist murder will be avenged. We’ll get you racist scum.”

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

https://t.co/LhFAvXu16x

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

There it was: a pool of blood spreading across the pavement. A section of the high street had been cordoned off and a uniformed police officer gestured for bystanders to move along. It was the long hot summer of 1976, and a racist murder had stunned Southall in west London.

“What has happened here, officers?” asked Suresh Grover, then a curious 22-year-old, later to be widely known as a leading racial justice activist. “Go away, it’s just Indian blood,” was the response. Grover was soon to learn that 18-year-old Gurdip Singh Chaggar, an engineering student, had been stabbed to death by racist thugs the night before.

The late 1970s was the era of “Paki-bashing”: homes, shops and places of worship were attacked, while south Asians – young and old – were murdered on the streets. That day, Grover acted instinctively, taking some paint and daubing the pavement near the blood with the words: “This racist murder will be avenged. We’ll get you racist scum.”

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

There it was: a pool of blood spreading across the pavement. A section of the high street had been cordoned off and a uniformed police officer gestured for bystanders to move along. It was the long hot summer of 1976, and a racist murder had stunned Southall in west London.

“What has happened here, officers?” asked Suresh Grover, then a curious 22-year-old, later to be widely known as a leading racial justice activist. “Go away, it’s just Indian blood,” was the response. Grover was soon to learn that 18-year-old Gurdip Singh Chaggar, an engineering student, had been stabbed to death by racist thugs the night before.

The late 1970s was the era of “Paki-bashing”: homes, shops and places of worship were attacked, while south Asians – young and old – were murdered on the streets. That day, Grover acted instinctively, taking some paint and daubing the pavement near the blood with the words: “This racist murder will be avenged. We’ll get you racist scum.”

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

There it was: a pool of blood spreading across the pavement. A section of the high street had been cordoned off and a uniformed police officer gestured for bystanders to move along. It was the long hot summer of 1976, and a racist murder had stunned Southall in west London.

“What has happened here, officers?” asked Suresh Grover, then a curious 22-year-old, later to be widely known as a leading racial justice activist. “Go away, it’s just Indian blood,” was the response. Grover was soon to learn that 18-year-old Gurdip Singh Chaggar, an engineering student, had been stabbed to death by racist thugs the night before.

The late 1970s was the era of “Paki-bashing”: homes, shops and places of worship were attacked, while south Asians – young and old – were murdered on the streets. That day, Grover acted instinctively, taking some paint and daubing the pavement near the blood with the words: “This racist murder will be avenged. We’ll get you racist scum.”

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

Britain’s far-right violence comes to us direct from the 1970s. But so does the solution
Taj Ali
Young men punched in the street, mosques attacked: Britain badly needs an anti-racist uprising. Let 70s Asian youth movements provide the inspiration
Letters
A protest in Southall, west London, in June 1976.
https://t.co/XxMN8ATg5b

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

.32 BST
Trump says he and Xi have forged a 'truly great friendship'
Donald Trump is speaking now. He notes that Xi is the first Chinese leader to make a second formal visit to the White House, and says the two have “forged a truly great friendship” since Trump was first elected in 2016.

Trump points out that this is the first time he and Xi are meeting at the White House. “A lot has changed since he was last here,” he says.

Donald Trump delivering remarks at the White House, with China’s Xi Jinping behind him.
Donald Trump delivering remarks at the White House, with China’s Xi Jinping behind him. Photograph: Evan Vucci/Reuters

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

.32 BST
Trump says he and Xi have forged a 'truly great friendship'
Donald Trump is speaking now. He notes that Xi is the first Chinese leader to make a second formal visit to the White House, and says the two have “forged a truly great friendship” since Trump was first elected in 2016.

Trump points out that this is the first time he and Xi are meeting at the White House. “A lot has changed since he was last here,” he says.

Donald Trump delivering remarks at the White House, with China’s Xi Jinping behind him.
Donald Trump delivering remarks at the White House, with China’s Xi Jinping behind him. Photograph: Evan Vucci/Reuters

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

https://t.co/i2uhW1uweP

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

https://t.co/drEdCNeHJZ

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

Palestinian delegation was unlawfully denied entry visas, Mahmoud Abbas tells UN – latest updates

[Sylvie Hakkou Bonneteau @sylvhakbonnetea]

The US state department said on Wednesday that it had again denied entry visas to Palestinian officials ahead next week’s United Nations general assembly gathering in New York.

The state department said in a statement the Palestinian Authority (PA) and the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) had “failed to live up to their commitments”, accusing the groups of “taking actions to internationalize the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict including through the International Criminal Court (ICC) and International Court of Justice (ICJ)” and of “glorifying terrorism” among other allegations.

“As a consequence of their failure to reform, contrary to their commitments to the United States, and their ongoing activities that undermine the prospects for peace, the United States will extend sanctions that deny visas to PLO members and PA officials,” the department said.

Composite image of Andy Burnham and Donald Trum
Burnham and Trump expected to meet for first time next week as PM steps up presence on world stage
Read more
The move marks the second year in a row the Trump administration has barred the Palestinian delegation from traveling to New York to attend the UN general assembly in person.

The foreign ministry of the Palestinian Authority denied the allegations made against it in a statement on Thursday, describing the visa sanctions as an “unjustified measure” that “contradicts the efforts being made to restore trust, develop Palestinian-US relations, and prepare the necessary political climate for implementing the two-state solution and achieving peace and stability in the region”.

Among the Palestinian officials barred from entering the US is Mahmoud Abbas, the longtime president of the Palestinian Authority, according to reports.

The UN general assembly voted on Thursday to allow Abbas to address the gathering via ⁠video, for the second year in a row.

This year’s UN general assembly general debate begins on 22 September.

An incredible self-own
In 1936, John Scott, son of the late Guardian owner and legendary editor CP Scott, did something unheard of for a media heir: he gave up his stake for the greater good.
After inheriting the newspaper, Scott renounced all financial benefit – bar his salary – in the Guardian (worth £1m at the time and around £62m today) and passed ownership over to the newly formed Scott Trust. The Trust would evolve to have one key mission: to secure the financial and editorial independence of the Guardian in perpetuity.
That means the Guardian can’t be bought. Not by private equity, not by a conglomerate, and definitely not by a billionaire looking for a political mouthpiece.
Our independence means we can say what we want, report on who we want, challenge who we want, and stand up at a time when others are sitting down.

But this unique model also means we depend on our readers to help fund our work. If you would rather the news you read was the result of decisions made by journalists and editors, not shareholders or ultra-wealthy tech bros, then, well, you know what to do:Support the Guardian on a monthly basis. Thank you.