Dispatch #24
Read about Hong Kong’s Legislative Council debate on same-sex unions, the use of Rorschach tests in Norwegian child custody cases and an intimate reading of female resistance movements in Iran.
Hello and welcome to Translator’s weekly Dispatch, where we bring you summaries of compelling stories written beyond the Anglosphere.
Amid Iran’s current turmoil, an essayist remembers two women in history, in an intimate reading of how their solitude birthed future movements of resistance.
Meanwhile, in Norway, Rorschach tests are at the centre of an intensifying legal controversy: in child custody cases, court-appointed psychologists continue to use the enigmatic inkblots to assess parents’ mental health and caregiving abilities, a move which – critics argue – has no place in legal settings where the livelihood of families is on the line.
And lastly, a feature about Hong Kong’s Legislative Council debate on same-sex unions from last February and what happens when homophobia becomes policy language.
We hope you enjoy the read.
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One Man, One Woman, One Version of Hong Kong
Inside Hong Kong’s Legislative Council debate on same-sex unions – and what happens when homophobia becomes policy language
On 12 February 2025, Hong Kong’s Legislative Council spent just over ninety minutes debating a motion titled “Upholding the monogamous and heterosexual marriage system in Hong Kong.” Put forward by pro-Beijing legislator Junius Ho, the motion carried no legal force – it was, by his own admission, a symbolic gesture. Even so, it passed by 69 votes to zero, with ten abstentions. The outcome was never in question. But the timing, just months before the government’s deadline to introduce a legal framework recognising same-sex partnerships (as mandated by a 2023 Court of Final Appeal ruling), made this more than a mere performance. It was, in effect, a political dress rehearsal – and a revealing one at that.
The debate aired deep-rooted resistance within Hong Kong’s establishment to any form of legal recognition for same-sex couples. Ho and his allies attempted to frame heterosexual marriage as not only legally exclusive, but culturally sacrosanct – inseparable from Chinese tradition and national security. One of their core claims was that defending a “one man, one woman” marriage model was consistent with the Basic Law and Chinese legal tradition. But as this article on the Hong Kong based media outlet G Dot TV points out, no clause in the Basic Law or Chinese Constitution explicitly restricts marriage to heterosexual couples. Ho cited Article 1041 of China’s Civil Code – which does refer to “one husband, one wife” – but admitted it doesn’t apply in Hong Kong. He also invoked Article 23 of China’s National Security Law, warning of “cultural contamination”, though that article has nothing to do with marriage at all.
This strategy of legal-sounding argument built on shaky ground continued throughout the debate. Legislator Priscilla Leung rebranded the Court of Final Appeal’s ruling in the landmark Jimmy Sham case as a “judicial imposition”, while Ho denounced it as “a constitutional crisis”, calling into question the authority of the judiciary altogether. He suggested the ruling was made by “a minority of a majority”. The implication: courts should not be allowed to overrule what he framed as public consensus, raising alarm about the separation of powers and the future of judicial review in Hong Kong.
A second line of argument concerned the supposed cultural threat posed by LGBTQ+ rights. Legislators frequently cited the protection of “traditional family values”, characterising same-sex relationships as a Western import. “Equality”, “anti-discrimination” and “diversity” were described by Ho as dangerous slogans used to “erode” Chinese values. Leung, meanwhile, used a placard to mock gender-neutral school uniforms in the UK. The irony, as the article notes, is that polygamy – not monogamy – has deeper roots in traditional Chinese society. Yet to bolster their case, several legislators repeatedly quoted Xi Jinping speeches which, though focused on family values, do not touch on marriage law. Ultimately, their appeals to tradition were more ideological than historical.
The third cluster of arguments painted homosexuality as immoral or inappropriate for young audiences. Legislators expressed fears that LGBTQ+ visibility could “corrupt” students, urging the government to bolster moral and civic education to promote “correct” family values starting from primary school. Some called for extending these teachings to universities and policing campus activities to suppress content deemed “against ethics.” These statements not only pathologised non-heterosexual identities but hinted at future encroachments on academic freedom and civil society.
One disturbing tactic was to frame same-sex rights as a zero-sum game: if homosexual couples gain legal recognition, others must lose. Legislator Scott Leung Man-kwong questioned whether allowing same-sex couples access to public housing would overburden the system, lengthening wait times for “deserving families.” This ignores both legal precedent and demographic reality. In the case of Nick Infinger v. Housing Authority, the Court of Final Appeal dismissed such claims as speculative and unsupported. It also reiterated that public housing is already available to many kinds of families, including intergenerational and sibling pairings.
Still, the “resource competition” narrative gained some traction – a reminder that Hong Kong’s LGBTQ+ movement must grapple with intersectionality more directly. Queer rights do not exist in isolation from issues of class, housing, or labour. The assumption that “grassroots” and “LGBTQ+” are separate groups overlooks the lived realities of gender minorities who are also low-income, working-class, or otherwise marginalised. For equality to mean anything, it must be rooted in material conditions as well as legal recognition.
As the government works toward a legally required alternative framework for recognising same-sex relationships – a framework due in the next six months – much remains unknown. The Secretary for Constitutional and Mainland Affairs, Erick Tsang, offered only vague assurances that the government would “safeguard” the existing marriage system and avoid major policy changes. There’s been no public consultation, no clarity on rights to be included and no guarantee that the framework will be meaningful.
In the absence of formal legislation, public discourse takes on greater weight. Some see February’s motion as mere political theatre aimed at conservative voters. But with zero dissenting votes – only abstentions – it also lays bare the limits of debate within today’s legislature. The real momentum, the article contends, must come from outside: from community-led conversations, continued attention to the government’s yet-to-be-released partnership framework and careful scrutiny of whether it will address the specific needs of non-heterosexual couples. This is no endpoint. Organisers are already hosting forums and gathering stories. Only through sustained discussion and collective effort, the piece suggests, can Hong Kong’s long journey toward partnership equality take shape.
Translator’s Note: Context for the summary
This summary references a debate in Hong Kong’s Legislative Council that took place ahead of the government’s expected proposals on a legal framework for same-sex partnerships. Three key background points help frame the discussion:
* Post-2021 Hong Kong’s Legislative Landscape: In March 2021, the National People's Congress (NPC) implemented sweeping changes to Hong Kong’s electoral system. These reforms ensured that only those deemed “patriots” by Beijing could hold office. The result was the effective exclusion of pro-democracy and liberal legislators from the Legislative Council, leaving it dominated by pro-establishment voices.
* 2023 Court Ruling: In a landmark decision, Hong Kong’s Court of Final Appeal ruled in 2023 that the government must provide a legal framework to recognise same-sex partnerships. The case was brought by activist Jimmy Sham and centred on the city’s refusal to acknowledge overseas same-sex marriages. While the ruling fell short of granting full marriage equality, it was seen as a significant step forward for LGBTQ+ rights in the city.
* Pending Government Framework: At the time of the debate summarised here, the HKSAR government had yet to unveil its proposed legal framework. The government has now (July 2025) proposed a registration system allowing overseas‑registered same‑sex partnerships to attain rights in Hong Kong, including medical decisions and survivor’s rights. Local couples without foreign registration are excluded – sparking criticism.
KLT
Original article (“章凱閎, ‘立法會「一夫一妻」議案重溫：當恐同成為制度語言，我們要讀懂甚麼?”) by Chang Kai-hong was first published in Traditional Chinese on G Dot TV on 9 April 2025.
It’s available here.
G Dot TV is Hong Kong’s first online media platform dedicated to gender and sexual minorities, using new media to empower volunteers as community storytellers.
Summary by KLT
Inkblots on Trial
Norway’s legal debate over the Rorschach test
The Rorschach test – known worldwide for its enigmatic inkblots – has long been a symbol of psychology’s more mysterious side. First developed in 1921 by Swiss psychiatrist Hermann Rorschach, who died shortly after its publication, the test presents abstract images to individuals and asks: What do you see?
Most people recognise the Rorschach from pop culture references in films, novels and comics. But in Norway, it is at the centre of an intensifying legal controversy. In child custody cases, court-appointed psychologists still use the Rorschach to assess parents’ mental health and caregiving abilities. Supporters describe it as a valuable tool for uncovering emotional issues. Critics argue it has no place in legal settings where lives and families are on the line.
Psychologist Cato Grønnerød, an associate professor at the University of Oslo and head of the Norwegian Rorschach Association, has administered the test in around 150 custody cases since 2016. He and other defenders, including researcher Harald Janson, describe it as among the most extensively studied psychological tools – useful for exploring thought patterns and emotional functioning.
But others – including lawyers and psychiatrists – are far more sceptical. Critics liken it to “reading coffee grains” (a Norwegian expression equivalent to “reading tea leaves”) and warn that it risks influencing court decisions unfairly.
In her article “De svarte flekkene” (“The Black Blots”), journalist Mari Brenna Vollan reports on several troubling cases involving the test. In one case, a father – identified under the pseudonym Daniel – was labelled as having “narcissistic traits” based on his Rorschach responses. He was subsequently restricted to supervised visits with his child. Daniel contested the ruling, arguing that the test says nothing about his parenting ability.
In another case, a father referred to as Andreas was diagnosed with a “mixed personality disorder” after just two hours of testing. Later evaluations by public health services found no such diagnosis. Norway’s State Administrator later ruled that Grønnerød had violated professional standards in the case, citing a lack of clarity and objectivity in linking test results to his conclusions.
Some psychologists still see value in the test – when applied with caution. Psychologist Judith van der Weele, who has reviewed Grønnerød’s reports in high conflict cases, acknowledges its limitations but believes it can offer useful insights when combined with other assessment tools.
In a follow-up article co-written with journalist Line Madsen Simenstad, Vollan broadens the discussion by examining international criticism of the Rorschach. Slovenian psychologist Igor Areh, who has reviewed decades of research, calls the test “Harry Potter’s magic wand” – seemingly sophisticated, but unreliable. He argues that responses to inkblots are shaped by countless factors, including genetics, visual perception, hormone levels, sleep deprivation and stress from legal proceedings – making it impossible to reliably assess personality traits in individual cases.
Areh emphasises that while some group-level patterns may appear in research, the test fails to produce valid results at the individual level – particularly in legal cases, where precision and fairness are crucial.
Emilio Muzio, vice president of the International Rorschach Society, disputes Areh’s conclusions. While acknowledging the test’s imperfections, Muzio argues it can still provide useful information – especially when combined with other tools such as interviews and behavioural observations. Grønnerød also maintains that the Rorschach is not meant to stand alone in custody cases but can offer valuable psychological insights within a broader assessment.
Areh nonetheless stresses that psychological tools designed for therapeutic settings – where nuance and interpretation are expected – should not be applied in legal settings where strict standards of evidence are essential.
Beyond the test itself, the articles raise deeper concerns about the power of court-appointed psychologists in Norway’s custody cases. In contrast to public healthcare, where psychiatric diagnoses require standardised evaluations, some court psychologists have been accused of assigning informal “diagnoses” based on limited testing – labels that can carry long-term consequences for parents, even if later disproven.
The debate raises a fundamental question: Should such a contested tool continue to influence life-changing legal decisions? Or does Norway’s legal system need reform to ensure more transparent, reliable evidence in child custody disputes?
Original article (“De svarte flekkene”) by Mari Brenna Vollan and Line Madsen Simenstad first appeared in Bokmål on 14 June 2025.
It’s available here.
Klassekampen is a Norwegian daily newspaper in print and online.
Summary by KM
Legacies of Solitude from Persian Women
Amid Iran’s current turmoil, an essayist remembers two women in history, in an intimate reading of how their solitude birthed future movements of resistance
In a moment when Iranian women once again stand at the raw edge of revolution – veils torn off, chants rising above the old architecture of fear – Parisa Eftekhar’s essay “The Solitude of Women in Cogito” arrives like a spectral reminder that this struggle did not begin in the streets of Tehran in 2022, nor in the bloodied squares of the Constitutional Revolution a century before. It began in the minds and battered hearts of women who dared to think, to speak and to love on their own terms, often at the price of unbearable isolation.
Writing for Pecritique (Critique of Political Economy), Eftekhar revisits the lives of Sedighe Dolatabadi and Forough Farrokhzad. She invites us to see today’s cry for freedom not as an isolated rebellion but as part of a long, aching genealogy, one in which the loneliness of being a woman who thinks for herself is both the burden and the spark of collective change.
In her essay, Eftekhar unfurls a lyrical, searching meditation on two women whose restless minds collided with the iron gates of patriarchy and the hollow promises of modernity. Dolatabadi, the steely feminist who turned her divorce into a declaration of war against imposed silence and Farrokhzad, the poet whose raw sensuality scandalised a nation, emerge here not as icons, but as haunted individuals – women undone and remade, by the sheer act of thinking aloud.
Eftekhar threads her essay through with seventeenth century French philosopher René Descartes’ foundational insight, almost a mantra, “Cogito, ergo sum” (“I think, therefore I am”) and interrogates what it means for women, especially Iranian women, to ground their being in thought. In the lives of Dolatabadi and Farrokhzad, the act of thinking is not a metaphysical anchor but a social liability, a path to exile. Dolatabadi finds refuge in activism and maternal care, not of her own children, but of a generation of Iranian girls educated under her watchful eye. Farrokhzad, by contrast, spills her alienation into verse, wrestling with estrangement from her father, her son, her lovers and finally, herself. Her poetry, searing in its emotional clarity, becomes a place where female subjectivity can live unapologetically, even if she cannot.
Modern love, with its shimmer of freedom, makes only a brief, bitter cameo. Eftekhar dissects it with clinical precision: too fleeting to fill the deep void of belonging, too fragile to hold the weight of longing. For these women and many others, romantic love did not liberate; it isolated. Yet loneliness, in Eftekhar’s telling, is not only a wound but a crucible. From it, Dolatabadi forged a women’s movement. Farrokhzad birthed a poetics of defiance. Their solitude was not sterile; it was generative.
What makes Eftekhar’s essay so timely, and indeed so timeless, is its insistence that the private griefs of women are not apolitical. They are symptoms of history, pressure points where philosophy, politics and gender collide. When Farrokhzad writes, “I am a lonely woman on the threshold of a cold season”, it is not merely a poetic metaphor but a historical diagnosis.
In the end, “The Solitude of Women in Cogito” is a quiet, radical provocation: a reminder that intellectual freedom, for women, has often meant existential exile. But within that exile lies a stubborn, dazzling refusal to disappear. Eftekhar shows us that to be a cogito woman is to suffer, but also, to insist on being seen.
Original article (“تنهایی زنانِ کوگیتو / پریسا افتخار”) by Parisa Eftekhar first appeared in Farsi on 25 June 2025.
It’s available here.
Pecritique is an Iranian Marxist journal. Self-described as a “field of dissent”, the journal offers provoking writing aimed at analysing, explaining and inspiring change in the economic and social life of Iran.
Summary by TMH
That’s all for now – we hope you’ve enjoyed the read. Keep an eye out for our next Dispatch of summaries this time next week!
The Translator team