The news out of Xinjiang, China’s western region, this summer has been a steady stream of Orwellian horrors. A million people held against their will in political reeducation camps. Intelligence officials assigned as “adopted” members of civilian families. Checkpoints on every corner and mandatory spyware installed on every device.

The targets of this police state are China’s Muslim Uighur minority, whose loyalties the central government has long distrusted for both nationalist and religious reasons. An already uneasy relationship deteriorated further in 2009, when Uighur protests led to violent riots and a retaliatory crackdown. Hundreds died in the clashes or were disappeared by security forces in their aftermath. Since then, a handful of deadly terrorist attacks outside of Xinjiang itself have served to justify increasingly...

Dutch media coverage of the Bosnian War partly explains why Dutch politicians and the general public are conflicted about the role played by Dutchbats during the war.

While discussion of the Balkan conflict continues in Western media, Dutch journalists believe the public is disinterested in the subject, and even Dutch politicians remain indifferent to the topic (J. Wieten, 2002: 31).

According to David S. Rohde, an American author and investigative journalist, one reason for this disinterest is can be attributed to the fact that media coverage during the war did not reflect the reality on the ground. Dutch journalist Bart Rijs, who worked in Bosnia-Herzegovina in 1992, and from 1994 to 1998, blames himself for the lack of accurate and nuanced media coverage. He believes that he depended too much on media reports from other cities and was too eager to believe external reports about the role of the Dutch battalion in Srebrenica. According to Rijs, the brutal massacre of 8,373 Bosnian boys and men by the Army of the Republika Srpska and the Scorpions paramilitary in the UN ‘safe area’ of Srebrenica was as much a surprise to journalists as it was to Dutch politicians and peacekeepers.[1] ...

In the spring of 1989, students and others took to the streets of Beijing, China demanding reform, and seeking a shift from authoritarianism to democracy.

To mark the 50th anniversary of As It Happens, we're looking through the archives to hear how the program covered these key moments in history.

For many, those sounds may trigger memories of a recent history. A history most of us can access with the click of a mouse. But in China, there's an ongoing effort to bury the past.

Now, after leaving the country in 2010, Google is mulling a decision to relaunch a censored version of its search engine in China. And advocates of online freedom, and human rights, are bracing themselves, worried the tech giant will aid the government's effort to scrub Tiananmen from the web.

Deirdre Mulligan is an associate professor and faculty director at Berkeley Center for Law and Technology. As It Happens host Carol Off spoke with Mulligan about the potential...

Malcolm X Boulevard in Harlem around 125th Street is now lined with artisanal French restaurants, wood-fired pizza joints and brunch places serving kale salad. A new Whole Foods supermarket shines from the corner. On Sundays, luxury tour buses idle at curbs, unloading foreign tourists who want to experience a gospel church service or a neighborhood meal.

So it is an apt time to remember what lies behind the rapidly changing streetscape, particularly the legacy of the man for whom the boulevard is named. That is the mission of Katie Merriman, a 32-year-old Ph.D. student from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, who gives free walking tours about the Muslim history of Harlem about five times a year to help preserve a legacy that is at risk of being forgotten.

On the last Sunday in July, about 30 people gathered on a warm morning to walk through the Harlem streets for nearly three hours, to visit Muslim-related sites past and present. Many of the places Ms. Merriman pointed out were already gone or transformed beyond recognition. The site of the ...

When Alyssa Johnston and members of her tribe speak to one another in Quinault, they are often moved to tears by the knowledge that, at the turn of the century, the language was all but dead.

The last person who spoke fluent Quinault passed away in 1996. By using recordings of those who spoke the language in the 1960s, a handful of people in the Olympic Peninsula tribe are slowly and painstakingly piecing it back together — and teaching it to a new generation.