Dispatch #31
Read about solidarity networks on the Basque border, the lethal trade in trafficking supplements in Tunisia and what Dutch children really see on their phones.
Hello and welcome to Translator’s weekly Dispatch, where we bring you summaries of compelling stories written beyond the Anglosphere.
This week, we begin in the Netherlands, with an unsettling glimpse into the social media feeds of 10-year-olds, where hypnotic “sludge” videos, violent clips and beauty tutorials show how algorithms are reshaping childhood itself.
From Tunisia, a disturbing investigation into the booming black market for smuggled weight-loss and weight-gain supplements from Algeria, where promises of quick fixes conceal a dangerous trade that has already cost lives.
And finally, from the Basque border, where a grassroots association is quietly helping migrants cross one of Europe’s most policed frontiers, offering food, shelter and solidarity in the shadow of hardened policies.
We hope you enjoy the read.
P.S.: In the meantime, tell us what you like and dislike, themes you’d like to see explored from the perspective of different linguistic media landscapes. And, as ever, feel free to recommend specific pieces we should summarise for our Dispatches, or translate in full for the magazine.
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What 10-year-olds see on their phones
From hypnotic sludge videos to violent clips and beauty tutorials, Dutch children’s social media feeds reveal how algorithm-driven content is shaping their attention, self-image and emotional world
de Volkskrant sent reporters Kaya Bouma and Simoon Hermus to sit down with eighteen 10-year-olds across the Netherlands to peek at their timelines and ask: what exactly are children watching online, and what does it do to them? What emerged is a portrait of childhood immersed in a chaotic feed, where “sludge videos” – four-way split screens combining snippets of Family Guy, video games and kinetic sand cutting – leave kids in a trance. It fulfils an immediate need to be stimulated, suggests Esther Rozendaal, a professor of digital resilience. With children’s prefrontal cortex still developing up until their twenties, experts warn that such overstimulation could hamper their long-term ability to focus.
Influencers loom even larger. From challenge videos to hyper-sexualised content, children eagerly follow stars like SSSniperwolf or TikTok personalities who blur the line between entertainment and danger. One boy, Milendrick, admits to de Volkskrant: “This I like,” pointing to a so-called challenge video where a woman glued her skirt down with a lint roller. Yet, experts note, such content often normalises risky or superficial values: money, status and extreme dares. In some cases, challenges have proven deadly, such as the “choking challenge”, which has claimed teenage lives in the Netherlands.
At the same time, social media exposes children to unfiltered global news. From Gaza famine footage to rocket attacks in Ukraine, children report feeling angry, sad and scared. Ten-year-old Misha, who fled Ukraine, admitted these images make her angry at Russia and Russian people. While youth-focused news such as Jeugdjournaal tries to soften coverage and add context, algorithm-driven feeds often push children toward repeated exposure to trauma without explanation, leaving them vulnerable to desensitisation or anxiety.
Then there’s beauty culture, the daily “get-ready-with-me” makeup routines saturate girls’ feeds, subtly reshaping body image. Some girls resist but experts find repeated exposure can erode self-esteem, especially for those already insecure. Still, scholars like Irene van Driel argue there’s nuance: beauty influencers can also become role models, even encouraging interest in broader topics like STEM, when combined with positive messaging.
Finally, the darkest layer, all the unwanted clips of violence and sex. Every child interviewed had encountered something “they would rather not have seen.” The effects vary; some shake it off, others can’t sleep but experts agree that even rare exposure can be formative, especially without supportive conversation. Family psychologist Mirjam de Nijs stresses dialogue over prohibition and suggests that everything forbidden is extra attractive. What matters is creating a space where children can talk without shame or fear.
The article arrives as the Dutch caretaker government recommends banning screens entirely for children under two and delaying social media until 15. Yet as this investigation shows, the real issue may not just be time spent but what fills those hours. Parents are urged to shift from restriction to active guidance, watching alongside children and preparing them for what they might encounter. As Rozendaal puts it, better they watch YouTube on the TV than on a tablet. At least then, parents know what they’re seeing.
Original article (“Dit is wat 10-jarigen zien op hun telefoon (en wat dat met ze doet, volgens experts)’’) by Kaya Bouma and Simoon Hermus, with photography by Renée de Groot, was first published in Dutch on 21 June 2025.
It’s available here.
de Volkskrant is one of the Netherlands’ leading national newspapers, known for its in-depth reporting, investigative journalism, and cultural analysis.
Summary by ZN
A death trade under the banner of weight loss and weight gain
In Tunisia, unregulated “miracle” supplements smuggled in from Algeria promise rapid weight changes but leave behind a trail of illness and death
In a meticulous investigation for Alqatiba, journalist Sameh Gharsalli exposes how nutritional supplements that are marketed as quick fixes for weight gain or slimming have infiltrated Tunisian markets and social media, preying on young women’s insecurities and the lack of state oversight. Popular products such as Super Apeti, Fast Slimmer and Betabio are sold cheaply in souks and online, often with no indication of their composition or origin. “You’ll be surprised at how your daughter’s body will change in a short period of time,” one merchant told a worried mother, insisting the pills were safe, despite growing evidence of severe health risks. The price? Six Tunisian dinars.
The investigation documents multiple suspicious deaths linked to these supplements, alongside testimonies from women who experienced dangerous side effects. Yet the trade flourishes because, as Gharsalli notes, Tunisia’s regulatory system is fragmented and poorly enforced. Even after the Ministry of Health warned in January 2025 that these products were “neither a nutritional supplement nor a licensed medicine, as it is unsafe for use”, enforcement remains weak, and traffickers simply move their business to new markets.
Experts interviewed in the piece describe the trade as part of a larger “parallel pharmaceutical economy” that thrives on misinformation and desperation. For young women especially, where body image pressures intersect with limited access to affordable healthcare, the allure of these pills remains strong. Buyers are viewed simply as consumers, not as patients or citizens.
Gharsalli’s work situates this deadly market within the broader failures of state health governance and cross-border trafficking, drawing attention to a public health crisis that official institutions are yet to intervene but it is gaining political traction.
The original article (“المًُكمّلات الغذائيّة المُهرّبة من الجزائر: تجارة الموت تحت يافطة التسمين والتنحيف”) by Sameh Gharsalli was first published in Arabic on 4 February 2025.
It’s available here.
Alqatiba is an independent Tunisian investigative journalism platform known for in-depth reporting on corruption, governance and public health issues in North Africa.
Summary by ZN
Breaking Barriers, Building Bridges
The story of Basque grassroots association helping migrants cross the frontier between Spain and France
We have grown all too accustomed to the harrowing stories of migrants trying to cross the Mediterranean looking for a better life, as well as of those actors – from smugglers to politicians – who benefit both economically and politically from this everyday catastrophe. Dangers don’t stop at the gates of Europe, however, for those who in fact are able to make it to its shores.
In their reportage “Pájaros nocturnos sobre el Bidasoa”, journalist Guillermo Rivas and photographer Javi Julio document the efforts of the Basque organisation Irungo Harrera Sarea, one of many grassroots associations born on both sides of the Spanish-French border to help migrants navigate these new foreign, often openly hostile, environs. Dubbed as pájaros nocturnos, itself a translation of the Euskera gautxoris (literally “night birds”), the volunteers of Irungo Harrera Sarea provide a vital service of orientation to migrants, gaining their trust as soon as they spot them around the border and help them cross the river Bidasoa so they can continue their journey through France.
The Schengen Agreement, originally signed in 1985, established an area within Europe where, over time, borders were effectively abolished for both goods and people. As explained in the piece, though, this doesn’t apply to migrants crossing into France from Spain. Since 2015, the French state has used a clause in the agreement which allows it to deny entry to people on the basis of tangible, concrete threats to national security and to detain and expel undocumented migrants – first sweepingly adducing the jihadist threat as justifying this measure, then using the vulnerability of Spanish borders, in particular Ceuta and Melilla, as a pretext.
As a result, the riverbed of the Bidasoa that separates Irún – the Basque town where the Irungo Harrera Sarea operates – from Hendaye, the first town across the border, ceases to be a negligible 100 metre distance easily crossed by bridge. Rather, for migrants coming from Africa, it turns into a treacherous trail beset with dangers and risks.
The article gives an account of the sort of everyday harassment and racialised low-intensity violence that goes on in and around the border. (Often with grotesque outcomes, the article mentions the case of actual French citizens made to “return” to Spain whilst travelling on the route because they didn’t have their papers.)
More importantly, though, it tells how these measures of supposed deterrence, whereby French police target and detain African migrants arbitrarily, are not only stretching EU communitarian rules but also have tragic, all-too-real consequences. The article mentions the story of a young Eritrean, Tessfit Temzide, who hung himself after being expelled by French police after crossing into Hendaye. Since 2021, there have been at least 10 other such deaths of migrants: those who drowned whilst trying to swim the Bidasoa, who committed suicide out of desperation or were run over whilst crossing train tracks. As stressed by different volunteers, migrants “will always cross”; it’s only a matter of when. If they can’t cross the pedestrian bridge in town or catch a bus, they will find other, more risky ways to reach France, which will put them in unnecessary danger.
Grassroots associations such as Irungo Harrera Sarea provide migrants with support. They tip them as to which way is best to cross, they assist them with seeking asylum. Increasingly though, faced with the French state’s unwillingness to provide “corredores seguros” (“safe pathways”) for migrants, they have turned to direct action and civil disobedience. The article concludes by telling us about a popular race that occurred on 14 March 2024, during which 36 migrants crossed into France surrounded by hundreds of supporting runners. Some of the organisers of this race are now facing up to five years in jail. The case is scheduled for October 2025.
They, too, have become the subjects of popular solidarity and support. This past April, 3,500 people demonstrated in front of a court in Bayonne, self-denouncing themselves as collaborators of the initiative and intoning Emile Zola’s J’accuse against EU’s “repressive and deadly migratory policies” whilst demanding “free and safe migration flows”.
Original article (“Pájaros nocturnos sobre el Bidasoa”) by Guillermo Rivas, with photography by Javi Julio, was published in Spanish on 1 May 2025.
It’s available here.
Revista 5W is a Spanish magazine known for its long-form, narrative journalism that blends reportage, photography and deep analysis. Revista 5W often focuses on global conflicts, migration, human rights and social movements, aiming to go beyond headlines to tell complex stories with nuance and empathy.
Summary by BS
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