A cultural shift is underway in India. Most young Indians are still married off by their families. But more and more young people are rebelling against arranged marriages and falling in love across the boundaries of caste and religion. Often the couples risk their lives when their relationships become known. They can get support from a New Delhi-based organization called Love Commandos. The men of Love Commandos are the last hope for Indian couples that want to marry against the will of their parents. They offer the lovers shelter in their headquarters in New Delhi and protect them from angry relatives - sometimes with methods worthy of a spy film. India is undergoing a cultural upheaval that is shaking the country's caste-riven society to its core and tearing families apart. It is the struggle between two different notions of love - arranged marriage vs. marriage for love. This report accompanies two couples on those different paths. Sahil and Dayita's love has transcended caste boundaries. They met on Facebook and fled from Pune to Delhi because Dayita's parents wanted to marry her to another man. Meanwhile, Khasish found his future wife Sheenu through a professional matchmaker. Marriage broker Geeta Gupta is convinced that arranged marriages last longer because they are not based merely on sexual attraction. He describes them as a seed planted by the parents and raised in the nourishing soil of the extended family. So while Khasish and Sheenu are showered with gifts, Dayita and Sahil fear for their future. In India anyone who opposes their family is lost. There are no housing benefits and no social welfare - only a complex network of aunts and uncles, grandnieces and brothers-in-law that traditionally provides couples with jobs or an apartment. Does Dayita and Sahil's love really stand a chance?
The international crime-fighting organization Interpol and its agents are the stuff of legend. Nearly 200 countries belong to the 'international super-police' agency - but it's funding does not cover its ambitious projects. That is why it has entered collaborating with corporations, shady groups embroiled and controversial states, something hitherto unthinkable. Is Interpol losing its integrity. So far, the media has rarely been able to get a look behind the scenes at Interpol. The forerunner of the present organization was founded nearly a century ago to strengthen cooperation between national police authorities. With increasing globalization and the associated rise in international organized crime, the challenges for the agency, which now has 192 member-states, have also grown. When Ronald Noble, an American, became Secretary General of Interpol in 2000, the world's largest police organization underwent a dramatic turnaround. Noble's dream was to create an 'international super-police'. To achieve that goal, Interpol entered into previously unimaginable cooperation agreements with large corporations such as Philip Morris International and Sanofi, as well as organizations suspected of corruption such as FIFA. Interpol has been criticized for disregarding serious conflicts of interest arising from the potential influence of private donors on investigations. At the same time, some controversial countries began to fund the world police. In March 2017, for example, the United Arab Emirates gave Interpol 50 million euros - as much as contributions from all the other member states put together. But surely such a grant from a single country raises questions about the independence of the recipient. What alliances is Interpol prepared to enter into in order to expand? Is it possible to finance policing through private donations without compromising integrity and accountability? Is this the first step toward a new world order in which collaboration between police authorities and large international companies is seen as normal?
Millions of animals are transported across Europe every year, as far as North Africa and the Middle East. Sheep and cattle are often crammed into trucks and ships for days or even weeks. Since 1991, filmmaker Manfred Karremann has been documenting the fate of animals on long-distance transports. Despite improvements in legislation, not much has changed over that time. Manfred Karremann has already made an impact with his documentaries about the transport of animals across Europe. On several occasions the EU has responded to his reports by improving animal welfare regulations. But this still offers too little protection to the animals. An everyday occurrence: the brown and white cow in the truck is breathing heavily. It's down on the floor, where other animals can't avoid stepping on it. After 20 minutes the animal is dead. That is a scene shot at the end of August 2017 on the EU's external border with Turkey. An exception? Exports of cattle and sheep from the EU are on the rise again. Along with Turkey, most of the live animals are headed for the Middle East. Even young calves are transported over distances as great as 3,000 kilometers at a stretch. Arriving at their destination after days or weeks, the animals from Europe face an end with terrible suffering. Animal welfare activists are sounding the alarm again: They say that the laws are no longer obeyed once the animals leave the EU. They report dehydrated cattle at the Turkish border and unspeakable torment on old cattle freighters and after arrival in the Middle East and North Africa. More than one million signatures protesting this state of affairs were recently submitted to the EU Commission in Brussels. The background: The European Court of Justice decided that animal welfare rules apply up to the animals' final destination. The problem: nobody monitors the transports once they have left the EU, as filmmaker Manfred Karremann proves. Just outside the EU's borders, he encounters dehydrated cattle, and cows giving birth and dying on trucks. Karremann wanted to know: Are these images of animal suffering just exceptions? Or is the law being systematically broken? Karremann's months-long investigation takes him from German farms through Bulgaria and Turkey to Lebanon.
Nelson Mandela was born 100 years ago. The man many South Africans call the father of their country was imprisoned for 27 years by the apartheid regime. Later he was sworn in as the first freely elected president of a democratic South Africa. His friend Desmond Tutu once called Mandela "God's gift to our nation". The world remembers this remarkable man as a symbol of humanity and reconciliation. The 'grand old man' of Africa, born on 18 July 1918, remains a legendary figure with extraordinary charisma. The "Mandela phenomenon" has been the subject of books and films, and it continues to exert a huge fascination. It was no coincidence that Nelson Mandela's father gave him the name Rolihlahla, the troublemaker. It was women who first began to tame the wild young man. Then there was the 27-year prison sentence that, as Nobel Peace laureate Desmond Tutu said, "did not embitter Nelson Mandela in the fight for freedom, but ennobled him." But the price of liberation from the ruthless apartheid state was high: isolation, torture, betrayal. The regime tried to break Mandela by targeting his most precious asset, his wife Winnie and their two daughters. Later, Mandela raised fabulous sums of money as a Nobel Peace Prize winner, a former president and the face of numerous charities. Scandals overshadowed the hero's reputation; he was embroiled in allegations of embezzlement, counterfeiting and fraud amounting to millions. But in spite of all the many unanswered questions, Mandela, who died on 5 December 2013, is still revered by his compatriots. "Nelson Mandela - A Life for Liberty" was made with the help of the former leader's friends. The result is a highly personal portrait that shows how triumphs and tragedies shaped the life of this historic figure and how much the diverse and divided country of South Africa owes to the 'Father of the Nation'.
Since 2015 Yemen has been in the grip of a bloody conflict as Saudi Arabia leads a coalition against Houthi insurgents in the country. Millions of people have been displaced and are facing starvation. Few images are emerging from the war-torn land. Yemeni filmmaker Khadija Al-Salami entrusted her camera to 3 children. In this documentary, the kids tell about the horrors of war in their own words. Ahmed is 11 years old, Rima is eight and Youssef is nine. They live in Yemen, a country that is experiencing one of today's most brutal wars and a humanitarian catastrophe. And yet most of the world community seems to be unaware of it. With a camera loaned to them by the Yemeni filmmaker Khadija Al-Salami, the three children film their everyday lives under the daily Saudi airstrikes. They record the testimonies of wounded children in hospitals and children who have lost their parents in the bombardments. Full of childish innocence, they also interview adults: a painter, a rapper and a model who was elected 'Miss War' on social media, and ask them to send a message to the only institution they believe can stop the war - the European Union. The film shows no images of violence, which makes the narrative seen through the eyes of the three kids all the more powerful. It is a story of incredible and unswerving hope: the hope that the EU will manage to put an end to the conflict.
The Place Stanislas in the French city of Nancy is one of the most beautiful urban spaces in Europe. Built in the middle of the 18th century, the architectural ensemble includes the Place de la Carrière and the Place de l' Hémicycle, masterpieces of the baroque.
Since 2015 Yemen has been in the grip of a bloody conflict as Saudi Arabia leads a coalition against Houthi insurgents in the country. Millions of people have been displaced and are facing starvation. Few images are emerging from the war-torn land. Yemeni filmmaker Khadija Al-Salami entrusted her camera to 3 children. In this documentary, the kids tell about the horrors of war in their own words. Ahmed is 11 years old, Rima is eight and Youssef is nine. They live in Yemen, a country that is experiencing one of today's most brutal wars and a humanitarian catastrophe. And yet most of the world community seems to be unaware of it. With a camera loaned to them by the Yemeni filmmaker Khadija Al-Salami, the three children film their everyday lives under the daily Saudi airstrikes. They record the testimonies of wounded children in hospitals and children who have lost their parents in the bombardments. Full of childish innocence, they also interview adults: a painter, a rapper and a model who was elected 'Miss War' on social media, and ask them to send a message to the only institution they believe can stop the war - the European Union. The film shows no images of violence, which makes the narrative seen through the eyes of the three kids all the more powerful. It is a story of incredible and unswerving hope: the hope that the EU will manage to put an end to the conflict.