“As a group of Palestinian Arabs residing in the UK, we hope that through ‘Free Palestine’ we shall contribute our share to a greater understanding and rapport between the British people and the Arabs of Palestine. Thus, in attempting to acquaint those interested with the facts of the situation, we aspire to represent as well as reflect the rights and aspirations of our people. This means we fully subscribe to our people’s legitimate desire to return to a free, secular and democratic Palestine, and that we unreservedly support our people’s armed struggle to achieve these natural and elementary aims in its homeland.”

These items of liberatory press in the form of the newspapers, journals and papers such as Inqaba ya basebenzi gave space for publicised and collective expression of dissent against the injustice of the dominant social order. Periodicals which highlight key engagements of critiques of current socio-economic and political ills, but also resolutions and active movements within the organisation. Inqaba ya basebenzi was produced by the underground movement in exile in English and local African languages. After 1989 the journal was transformed into a supplement and gave way for the Congress Militant, by 1990 Inqaba ya basebenzi had reached 28 issues in English and 4 other local languages with topics ranging from the political status within Southern Africa as well as international coverage.

The publications, each form with their own material histories in China, highlights the unofficial formation of the Workers’ Autonomous Federation (WAF) in the wake of Tiananmen protests in the Spring of 1989. The protests, named after the massacre on Tiananmen Square on June 4th where many workers, students, protestors, civilians and soldiers lives were lost. WAF expressed solidarity with the struggle of the students and held a unified ground for the mobilisation of a labour movement, which included the different sects of labour and their specific outcries. The Chinese workers’ role during Tiananmen lies thus not only in their organizing contributions in the streets of Beijing in May but in their vigorous use of counter-institutional publications to carve out alternate discursive spaces to develop socialist ideas external to the state and yet make demands on it.

In other words, the circumstances and form of workers’ writing was inseparable to how the workers independently practiced new ideas of struggle in Tiananmen. These writings demand “completely independent” forms of autonomous governance that would “supervise” the Communist Party and develop a system of socialist pluralism to take control of and reorganize the Chinese society’s means of production. These perspectives informed the means and tactics of workers’ struggle, from how the workers negotiated their relationship to the students to why they decided to take over certain factory production lines as a means to assist the struggle. The diverse forms of writing were tactical and timed to respond to different moments of the struggle in May from day to day, varying from adjusting their demands with different manifesto flyers to verse poetry and more personalized open letters to specific student bodies.

Though short lived, Pambana had a wide circulation and it made an impact by providing a local alternative newspaper to the foreign owned dominant print media in post-independence Kenya. The first issue was published in May 1982 under the theme Cheche, in Kiswahili meaning a spark, inspired by the quote by Lenin: ‘A Spark Can Light a Prairie Fire’. Pambana was to provide a cheche (spark) to light and represent the truth to the masses of dispossessed Kenyans by Daniel Moi, the dictator who ruled Kenya from 1978-2002. Pambana was deliberate in its use of Kiswahili language, the language of Kenya’s working people and peasants who were the main audience for the publication. It also took a strong anti-imperialist position and focused on analysis of neo-colonialism on Kenya’s economy and among the working people. Pambana was inspired by Dedan Kimathi, the Mau Mau leader who fought against repression and occupation by the British and it sought to unite the poor and working people against the Kenyan ruling class and their foreign masters… read more

Across 104 issues, Mediodía published a dazzling constellation of authors, including Cubans such as the anthropologist Fernando Ortiz, the lawyer and feminist activist Ofelia Domínguez Navarro, the novelist Alejo Carpentier, and the Afro-Cuban poet Regino Pedroso. They also included Latin American, US, and European writers of radical sympathies, from Langston Hughes to César Vallejo, and from André Malraux to Isaak Babel. It was initially a literary monthly before becoming a weekly magazine with a strong political and current affairs focus. Within months it had a circulation of 10,000 copies, its readership spread across the island. Mediodía was centrally concerned with Cuban domestic politics, and with the struggles for democratic representation and for racial and gender equality. But amid the ferment of the 1930s, these battles could not be disconnected from the broader turbulence afflicting the world. The magazine’s coverage reflected this sense of global interconnection: reportage on the Spanish Civil War nestled alongside essays on racial discrimination in Cuba; accounts of Chinese resistance to Japanese occupation featured next to warnings of the looming threat Nazi Germany posed to Czechoslovakia.

Mediodía provides a compelling window onto Cuban politics in the 1930s, where a populist revolution had been thwarted in 1933–34, yet the democratizing impulses the revolution had unleashed had not yet been contained. Urgent questions about imperialism, Cuba’s national sovereignty, racial inequality, and social injustice were in the air, prompting fervent and wide-ranging debates, and these were all reflected in Mediodía’s pages. At the same time, for the magazine’s editors, the boundary between internal questions and global issues was entirely permeable: the anti-imperialist, anti-fascist, and anti racist struggles were bound together into a single battle with many interconnected fronts.

Initially, it was a monthly publication, but as the years passed, it transitioned to a fortnightly circulation, and finally, in 1987, it became a weekly magazine. Despite the challenges of censorship and the spacing of issues, the magazine persevered, providing profound news analysis that was a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and an inspiration to all who value freedom of information.

APSI magazine was not just a publication but a beacon of high-quality, in-depth information. Its subscribers, predominantly social sciences and humanities professionals, were hungry for international political analysis when such information was scarce due to Chile’s international isolation. Despite the editors’ expectations of international organizations and embassies subscribing, the magazine attracted many professionals seeking quality information about the world in a context where most Chilean media were censored or sympathetic to the regime.

Arturo Navarro Ceardi, a journalist and sociologist, was the first director of APSI. Navarro was linked to the leftist party Movimiento de Acción Popular Unitaria (MAPU). Navarro directed the magazine until 1982, when the dictatorship forced him to leave his post due to intense pressure from the dictatorship. Marcelo Contreras, a journalist linked to MAPU, was its second and last director. The political climate under the dictatorship was a challenge and a constant struggle for APSI’s leadership. They faced intense pressure, censorship, and even personal threats.

The magazine’s founding team, all left-leaning, included Hilda López, Eduardo Araya, Carlos Catalán, John Dinges, Rafael Otano, Marcelo Contreras, and Sergio Marras. Despite their political leanings, APSI’s hallmark was its independence from political parties.