The most important evidence is the University of Oxford Bonavero Institute’s 2025 report, The European Convention on Human Rights and Immigration Control in the UK, which examined 379 UK media reports mentioning the ECHR in the first half of 2025. It found that around 75% of all ECHR-related coverage centred on immigration control — particularly appeals by foreign national offenders against deportation — and that tribunal decisions were “frequently misreported,” including the now-notorious “chicken nuggets” case, reported nationwide as blocking a deportation based on a child’s food preferences even though the decision did not rest on that point and had already been overturned. The report’s corrective findings are stark: the European Court of Human Rights has found against the UK in only 13 removal cases since 1980, and successful human-rights-based appeals against deportation amounted to 0.73% of sentenced foreign national offenders in the period studied. The broadcast narrative — that the ECHR routinely and unlawfully blocks deportations of dangerous offenders — is not a marginal misstatement of this record; it is its inversion. The Bonavero Institute’s conclusion is measured but damning: proposals to curtail UK participation in the ECHR “are being made on misconceptions.” The audience effects of this coverage are measurable. Cardiff University research reported in 2025 found that frequent GB News viewers were the most likely to hold demonstrably false beliefs about migration, with 84% believing migration was increasing when official statistics showed it falling. This is the signature of disinformation rather than mere opinion: a systematic gap between broadcast content and verifiable fact, reproduced across the audience. Nor is the fixation episodic. Content analyses of the opinionated broadcast sector have tracked the same cluster of subjects — immigration, asylum seekers, “grooming gangs,” the ECHR, the EU — recurring across presenter-led programming on a near-continuous cycle, with Reform UK’s agenda setting the news rhythm rather than reacting to it. The 24-hour “news opinion” format is structurally important here: it converts a political talking point into ambient, always-on background narrative, a phenomenon without precedent in UK broadcasting, which was built on the assumption that news would remain segregated from advocacy.
The Regulatory Frame and Its Limits
Ofcom’s enforcement record confirms the pattern while exposing the framework’s weakness. GB News has accumulated repeated due impartiality findings: over programmes fronted by sitting Conservative MPs interviewing ministers of the same party, and over the Sunak “People’s Forum” broadcast, which Ofcom found broke due impartiality rules. TalkTV/Talk has likewise been found in breach, including over unsubstantiated allegations about cancelled local elections in 2025. A £100,000 fine against GB News followed Ofcom’s October 2024 finding of serious and repeated breaches of the special impartiality rules. In ongoing litigation, the Good Law Project has challenged Ofcom’s position that Rule 5.7 of the Code (“views and facts must not be misrepresented”) does not impose a freestanding prohibition on misrepresentation, so that a materially false factual assertion escapes the rule “provided that due impartiality is preserved.” If that interpretation survives, the Code polices balance but not truth — a channel can broadcast false claims about the ECHR and EU provided it occasionally platformed a dissenting guest to be shouted down. For a disinformation analysis, this is the central regulatory gap. GB News successfully challenged Ofcom in the High Court in 2025, which quashed decisions on the scope of Rule 5.3 as errors of law — a reminder that the impartiality regime operates under constant Article 10 pressure.
When RT — a state-funded broadcaster transmitting a hostile power’s framing — accumulated seven due impartiality breaches in six weeks, Ofcom fined it £200,000, and the High Court upheld the regime as protecting “the democratic process itself.” The RT case establishes the principle that a rolling, unbalanced broadcast narrative serving a political agenda external to honest debate is sanctionable. The difference with GB News and Talk is that the agenda served is domestic and electoral rather than foreign — which removes the remedy Ofcom deployed against RT, not the underlying harm.
The Security Threat Sphere: Undermining the ECHR and the EU
The security consequences of this campaign are not speculative; they are documented by the UK’s own research institutions. UK in a Changing Europe has set out that withdrawal from the ECHR would strain relations with the EU, affect the UK–EU Trade and Cooperation Agreement, put pressure on the Belfast/Good Friday Agreement, and sit at odds with the UK’s integrated review of security, defence and foreign policy — all of which rest on the UK’s commitment to international law.
A broadcast ecosystem that manufactures demand for precisely that withdrawal is therefore not merely misleading viewers; it is generating political pressure against the architecture of the UK’s own security and foreign-policy commitments. Policy proposals resting on the disinformation — such as Reform UK’s migration costings, built on figures the Centre for Policy Studies itself withdrew — have been publicly dismantled, yet continue to circulate on these outlets.
The European Union stability dimension follows directly. The ECHR is a Council of Europe instrument, but the broadcast narrative deliberately conflates Strasbourg, “Europe,” and the EU — a conflation visible throughout the immigration coverage, where ECHR judgments, EU-derived rights, and domestic tribunal decisions are presented interchangeably as foreign-imposed obstacles. Cardiff University’s comparative research has already established that British right-wing media coverage of the “migrant crisis” was among the most aggressive in the EU, dominated by threat framing at levels far above the European average.
Sustained disinformation against the ECHR from within a Council of Europe member state corrodes the mutual-confidence foundation on which European judicial cooperation — extradition, data-sharing, security liaison — depends. The harm is cumulative and institutional rather than episodic, which is precisely why the existing complaint-driven regulatory model struggles to capture it.
When Disinformation Becomes State Policy
This brings the analysis to the transition the evidence now makes visible. The campaign against the ECHR and the EU has never been confined to broadcasting: it has always had a political wing. The interview transcript analysed in the introduction to this essay — proposing the abolition of the immigration tribunal, the termination of immigration legal aid, withdrawal from the ECHR, repeal of the Human Rights Act without replacement, and a quadrupling of deportations — is not the fringe of this ecosystem; it is its programme, stated by a senior politician on one of the very channels examined here.
The legal significance of this transition is fundamental, and this is where the argument of the essay turns. While the narrative circulates through licensed private broadcasters, accountability lies with Ofcom and operates, as Part I showed, at the level of process — impartiality, balance, fairness — and barely at the level of truth. But when the narrative is enacted into statute and executive policy, three things change.
First, attribution is no longer in question. The earlier requirement to prove a link between media output and state conduct disappears, because the state becomes the primary actor in its own right. A government that legislates to abolish appeal rights against deportation, or to denounce the ECHR, is acting directly and formally. No inference, no coordination evidence, no ownership analysis is required.
Second, the applicable legal framework shifts from broadcasting regulation to international responsibility. The state that enacts such a programme becomes answerable for its effects: refoulement contrary to the Convention Against Torture, denial of asylum assessment contrary to the Refugee Convention, removal of effective remedies contrary to ICCPR Article 2(3). Whether such policies are proposed as treaty withdrawal or as domestic restriction, the conduct remains that of the state once implemented, and the consequences of implementation remain internationally wrongful even after denunciation, because non-refoulement and the prohibition of torture bind as customary and peremptory norms.
Third — and this is the analytical conclusion the evidence supports — the state thereby turns the disinformation apparatus against its own constitutional order. The broadcast campaign’s function was to manufacture the conditions of plausibility for policies that would otherwise be unthinkable: to persuade a sufficient share of the public that the ECHR is an enemy apparatus, that the courts are usurpers, that statistics showing 0.73% successful appeal rates are compatible with claims of wholesale judicial obstruction. When a political party then adopts that narrative as policy, the pipeline is complete: private disinformation becomes the stated programme of the state. The state is no longer the regulator of the media narrative; it is its product.
This is the sense in which it can properly be said that the state, at that point, attacks itself: not in the sense of persecution of a civilian population — the elements of that crime remain unproven and, on the current evidence, unprovable — but in the precise sense that a state implementing a programme built on demonstrated falsehoods about its own courts and treaty obligations is undermining the integrity of its own legal system from within, and doing so with a mandate manufactured by the very apparatus examined in this Part. The accountability question then ceases to be “what can Ofcom do about GB News?” and becomes the one posed in Part I: what does the law do when a state legislates based on misrepresentations about its own legal order? The answer — judicial review, treaty-body complaints, and ultimately the political process — is a thinner protection than the one disinformation has already disabled.
The Grey-Zone Model. Propaganda by Design, Accountability by Evasion
The defining feature of the GB News and Talk operation is not that it breaks UK media law outright — it is that it inhabits, and systematically expands, a zone where the law’s categories no longer fit the practice. British broadcasting regulation was built on a distinction between news (regulated for accuracy and impartiality) and opinion (regulated more lightly). The opinionated news channel collapses that distinction by design: current-affairs content is presented with the format and authority of news — presenters at news desks, “breaking” branding, rolling coverage — while its substance is ideological advocacy. Ofcom’s Code is then applied to the shell rather than the substance, because the Code’s machinery asks who is speaking and in what format more readily than what is the cumulative function of this output. The result is a licensing regime regulating a broadcasting model the regime was never written for.
This is the grey area in structural form: everything the channels do is defensible programme by programme, while the enterprise as a whole performs a function — sustained political persuasion under news branding — that the licensing system does not recognise and therefore cannot regulate.
The Funding Opacity Beneath the Grey Area
The grey area is materially sustained by an opacity that UK law does not require to be cured. Ownership of GB News is a matter of record — the Dubai-based Legatum Group and hedge-fund founder Sir Paul Marshall hold the controlling interest — but ownership is not the same as funding transparency. Nothing in UK broadcasting law requires a licensee to disclose the sources of its operating capital, the identity or interests of its ultimate beneficial funders, or any financial flows between ownership entities and external political actors. As established in Part II, the transatlantic network linking Legatum, its think-tank arm, US conservative institutions such as the Heritage Foundation, and the channels’ airtime operates through conferences, personnel, and shared platforms — a network whose funding flows are unregulated and undisclosed precisely because no UK statute reaches them.
The comparison with allied jurisdictions is instructive. In the United States, the Foreign Agents Registration Act requires disclosure of foreign principal funding for political influence activity; while imperfectly enforced, it exists. In Australia, foreign political donations to media and political actors are restricted. The United Kingdom possesses no equivalent instrument: a foreign or foreign-linked fortune may sustain a national broadcaster whose output shapes elections, and no viewer, regulator, or parliamentarian has a legal right to know. The grey area is not an accident of the channels’ design; it is a gap in the statute book that their design exploits.
From Inaccuracy to Propaganda: The Output Record
Where inaccuracy is episodic, it is journalism’s occupational hazard. What the record documents here is something categorically different: a pattern in which factual error is not incidental to the output but load-bearing within it. Against the ECHR and the European rights order, the pattern is now academically established: approximately 75% of UK media coverage of the ECHR in the study period centred on immigration control, frequently misreporting the underlying decisions, while the true scale of judicial obstruction was a rounding error — thirteen adverse ECtHR findings in removal cases since 1980, and a 0.73% success rate for human-rights deportation appeals An audience persistently told that courts “routinely block” removals — when the verified figure is under one per cent — is not misinformed at the margins; it is being equipped with a false premise from which a political programme (abolition of appeal rights, treaty withdrawal) follows.
The same structural pattern extends to the other subjects the user identifies, and it is important to state precisely what is documented and what is argued. On climate change, Ofcom has examined GB News coverage and the channel has repeatedly platformed minority, denial-adjacent framings of established scientific consensus as though they were contested positions within the science — a both-sides construction that the evidence base does not support; the corporation’s own presenter-level controversies over pandemic misinformation led to high-profile departures at Talk. On Palestine, the documented criticism — including systematic content studies by UK media-reform researchers — is of consistent framing asymmetry: the vocabulary of law and atrocity applied to one side and withheld from the other, with presenters openly declaring partisan alignment. Whether one accepts the strongest version of that critique or not, the regulatory problem is identical: the Code polices individual programmes, while the cumulative editorial architecture — which stories lead, which frames recur, which guests constitute the rotating cast — is invisible to it. Propaganda, properly defined, is not falsehood alone; it is organised output whose function is persuasion toward a political end, insulated from correction. By that definition t, the grey area is the enabling condition: each broadcast is an opinion; the schedule is a campaign.
The Illegality of Politicians as Paid Anchors: Only in the worst regimes
The employment of sitting parliamentarians as paid presenters was the grey area’s most aggressive expansion, and it collided with two rule-systems at once — broadcasting law and parliamentary standards — while being squarely unlawful under neither, which is itself the revealing point. Under parliamentary standards, an MP’s paid outside employment is permissible subject to registration and the overarching duty not to use the parliamentary office for personal benefit; presenting a television programme is not, as such, prohibited.
Under broadcasting law, however, the practice was indefensible, and Ofcom so found: GB News breached due impartiality rules repeatedly by allowing Conservative MPs to serve as news presenters interviewing ministers of their own party. The regulator’s response crystallised the asymmetry: the breaches were recorded, yet the programmes attracted no sanction at the time — and when Ofcom subsequently moved to close the gap, GB News won a High Court ruling quashing decisions on the scope of the impartiality rule, on the ground that Ofcom had misinterpreted its own Code.
The sequence is the essay’s core exhibit: a practice at war with both the spirit of parliamentary independence and the letter of broadcasting impartiality; a regulator that acted slowly and lost; and a judicial system that, correctly applying Article 10, resolved ambiguity in the broadcaster’s favour. The grey area is not a failure of enforcement alone — it is a zone that the interaction of two lawful systems, each acting reasonably within its own logic, produces between them.
The International Comparison: An Anomaly, Not a Norm
The argument that this model is simply “television as it exists everywhere” does not survive comparison. In the United States, partisan cable news exists — but under a First Amendment regime that deliberately renounced content impartiality enforcement for cable; the US model is a constitutional choice, not a regulatory grey area, and even it produced consequences (Fox’s defamation settlement with Dominion) that exposed what a purely market-based news ecology costs. In Germany, by contrast, the Interstate Media Treaty imposes enforceable duties of truthfulness and diversity of opinion on broadcasters, with sanctions including fines running to hundreds of thousands of euros — duties that a rolling opinionated channel in the GB News mould would face from its first broadcast week. In France, the regulator has repeatedly fined CNews for discriminatory on-air statements, treating broadcast hate-adjacent speech as sanctionable in a way Ofcom’s complaint-driven model has not. And the RT precedent shows the system can act decisively: a broadcaster transmitting a state-aligned narrative with due impartiality breaches was fined £200,000 within weeks. What distinguishes the UK case is not the existence of the outlet but the permissiveness of its ecology: a funding-disclosure vacuum, a Code whose accuracy provisions the regulator itself reads as not imposing any freestanding duty of truth, and an enforcement cadence measured in years against output measured in hours. No comparable combination exists elsewhere in northern Europe. The model is not imported — it is indigenous, built by British lawyers and British regulation.
A grey area persists only because those with the power to close it decline to. Parliament has legislated for every adjacent harm — foreign donations to parties, political advertising on broadcast media, broadcaster impartiality — and has left untouched funding transparency for media and the truthfulness gap in the Code. Ofcom has interpreted its own rules to minimise its exposure to accuracy claims. Governments of both parties have staffed the regulator’s governance and framed its priorities, while drawing political benefit from the very narratives the channels propagate — the same narratives, against the ECHR and the courts, that the policy programme analysed in Part III would enact into law. When the Speaker of the Commons, the regulator, and successive ministers all identify a practice as corrosive, and none closes the gap, the gap is policy by default.
The establishment is therefore not the audience of this propaganda machine; it is its host environment. The channels supply the false premises; the political system supplies the legislative programme those premises are built to justify; the regulatory system supplies the grey area in which both operate. International law — and the allied states watching the UK’s posture toward the ECHR, the EU, and the international-legal order examined in Parts II and III — will not distinguish between the broadcaster and the body politic that sheltered it. Accountability, in this frame, is not a question of what Ofcom can do to GB News. It is a question of what Parliament is willing to do about the ecology it maintains.
The Illegality of the Policy Programme. Where Sovereignty Ends, and Pariah Status Begins
Every policy proposal examined in this essay occupies one of three legal positions, and distinguishing them precisely is what separates serious legal analysis from political polemic. First, there are policies that are lawful but contested — doubling the enforcement budget, quadrupling deportation throughput, prioritising the removal of serious offenders. Second, there are policies that are lawful in form but gravely damaging — withdrawal from the ECHR under Article 58, repeal of the Human Rights Act, abolition of the immigration tribunal. These diminish rights protection but remain within the sovereign’s competence, because the treaties themselves contain denunciation clauses and constitutions may be amended. Third — and this is the category this Part addresses —some policies are unlawful in their very design, because no act of parliamentary sovereignty can extinguish the norms they would violate.
The proposal that all foreign nationals convicted of anything beyond “minor” offences “must all go” — including, expressly, those who raise human rights, asylum, and modern-slavery claims — is unlawful not in its ambition but in its categorical architecture. The prohibition of refoulement to torture or persecution is a rule of customary international law with the character of jus cogens: Article 3 of the Convention Against Torture permits no exception, no balancing, no public-order override, and applies regardless of the seriousness of the offence committed. The Refugee Convention’s Article 33(2) exception — which permits return of a refugee who constitutes a danger to the community — expressly does not permit return to persecution; it permits removal to a safe third state only.
A policy whose premise is that no claim of any kind will be entertained converts an individualised, fact-specific obligation into a fiction. It is unlawful from the moment of its design: it instructs officials to violate an absolute norm routinely. The official who removes a person to a country where there are substantial grounds for believing they face torture engages personal exposure under universal-jurisdiction statutes, and the state engages responsibility for a breach of a peremptory norm — the category carrying the gravest consequences in the law of state responsibility. To abolish asylum claims by “illegal immigrants” and foreign criminals misstates the Refugee Convention so fundamentally that it cannot be attributed to interpretive disagreement. Article 31 of the Convention exists precisely to protect those who enter unlawfully: irregular entry is not a ground for penalisation or denial of protection. A state that declares, in advance and without examination, that an entire class of arrivals will never have a claim assessed is not exercising discretion at the margins of the Convention; it is repudiating its central operative mechanism.
This category is gravest because the wrong is complete before any removal occurs. The denial of access to the asylum procedure is itself the internationally wrongful act — it does not depend on later demonstrating that a particular removed person faced persecution. The state announces in advance that it will breach Article 33 in every case within the class. That is the definition of a policy unlawful in se. To abolish modern-slavery claims as a bar to deportation severs the mechanism by which victims of trafficking are identified at all. The Council of Europe Convention on Action against Trafficking and the Palermo Protocol do not merely confer rights on claimants; they impose procedural duties on states — to identify victims, to grant recovery and reflection periods, to provide assistance, and to refrain from returning victims to a situation of risk. A policy that deports first and asks never removes the filter through which victims would have been found. The predictable consequence — the removal of trafficking victims into the hands of exploiters — converts administrative design into participation in the harm the international instruments exist to prevent.
The Elimination of the Remedy
“No court appeal” is the proposal’s most structurally consequential element, because it attacks the mechanism by which every other unlawful act would be caught. Article 2(3) of the ICCPR guarantees an effective remedy for violations of Covenant rights; Article 14 guarantees a fair hearing before an independent tribunal. The Committee Against Torture has consistently held that the non-refoulement obligation requires a procedure through which the individual can substantiate the risk — an obligation that is illusory if the decision-maker is also the enforcement arm and no court can review it. Critically, this element is unlawful independently of the ECHR. It is the answer to the recurring argument that leaving Strasbourg resolves the difficulty: the ICCPR, the Torture Convention, and customary law impose remedy and fair-hearing obligations that do not lapse with denunciation. A state that abolishes the remedy while retaining the substantive obligation has simply chosen to breach it invisibly.
The State-Responsibility Consequences: The Pariah Threshold
When a state adopts and implements policies of this character, it ceases to be merely a wrongdoer in a bilateral dispute and enters the category the international system reserves for its most serious delicts.
First, the obligations breached are owed to the international community as a whole. The prohibitions of torture and refoulement generate obligations erga omnes: every state has a legal interest in their observance. The wrong is not a private injury to the deported individual alone; it is an injury to the normative order itself.
Second, Articles 40 and 41 of the ILC Articles on State Responsibility attach specifically to serious breaches of peremptory norms. Other states are then under duties of their own: not to recognise as lawful the situation created by the breach; not to render aid or assistance in maintaining that situation; and to cooperate to bring it to an end through lawful means. The practical content of these duties is the pariah mechanism in action: refusal of extradition cooperation where fair-trial guarantees are gone, suspension of data-sharing and security liaison premised on a shared legal order, non-recognition of Home Office removal decisions in other jurisdictions’ courts.
Third, complicity rules extend the isolation. States and institutions that assist — airlines compelled to carry removals, transit states, private contractors — face their own exposure under the aiding-and-assisting provisions, creating pressure throughout the logistics chain.
Fourth, individual responsibility pierces the sovereign veil. Torture, enforced disappearance, and persecution when part of a widespread or systematic attack expose the officials who design and execute the policy — the minister who drafts it, the official who rubber-stamps a removal despite known risk — to prosecution under universal-jurisdiction statutes and, where the contextual elements crystallise, before the International Criminal Court. Sovereign status has never immunised individuals for conduct violating peremptory norms; that is precisely the lesson of the post-Nuremberg settlement.
Fifth, institutional consequences follow automatically. Within the Council of Europe, a member implementing this programme would face monitoring under Article 3 of the Statute, PACE resolutions, and the Article 8 procedure examined earlier in this essay. The bilateral consequences documented in Part II — strain on the Trade and Cooperation Agreement, pressure on the Belfast/Good Friday Agreement, contradiction of the integrated review’s foundational commitment to international law — would cease to be contingencies and become the operating environment.
When a state adopts and implements policies of this character, it ceases to be merely a wrongdoer in a bilateral dispute and enters the category the international system reserves for its most serious delicts.
First, the obligations breached are owed to the international community as a whole. The prohibitions of torture and refoulement generate obligations erga omnes: every state has a legal interest in their observance. The wrong is not a private injury to the deported individual alone; it is an injury to the normative order itself.
Second, Articles 40 and 41 of the ILC Articles on State Responsibility attach specifically to serious breaches of peremptory norms. Other states are then under duties of their own: not to recognise as lawful the situation created by the breach; not to render aid or assistance in maintaining that situation; and to cooperate to bring it to an end through lawful means. The practical content of these duties is the pariah mechanism in action: refusal of extradition cooperation where fair-trial guarantees are gone, suspension of data-sharing and security liaison premised on a shared legal order, non-recognition of Home Office removal decisions in other jurisdictions’ courts.
Third, complicity rules extend the isolation. States and institutions that assist — airlines compelled to carry removals, transit states, private contractors — face their own exposure under the aiding-and-assisting provisions, creating pressure throughout the logistics chain.
Fourth, individual responsibility pierces the sovereign veil. Torture, enforced disappearance, and persecution when part of a widespread or systematic attack expose the officials who design and execute the policy — the minister who drafts it, the official who rubber-stamps a removal despite known risk — to prosecution under universal-jurisdiction statutes and, where the contextual elements crystallise, before the International Criminal Court. Sovereign status has never immunised individuals for conduct violating peremptory norms; that is precisely the lesson of the post-Nuremberg settlement.
Fifth, institutional consequences follow automatically. Within the Council of Europe, a member implementing this programme would face monitoring under Article 3 of the Statute, PACE resolutions, and the Article 8 procedure examined earlier in this essay. The bilateral consequences documented in Part II — strain on the Trade and Cooperation Agreement, pressure on the Belfast/Good Friday Agreement, contradiction of the integrated review’s foundational commitment to international law — would cease to be contingencies and become the operating environment.
BASED ON OUR OSINT REPORT AND EXTENSIVE EVIDENCE, WE OFFICIALLY DESIGNATE THE FOLLOWING CORPORATE ORGANISATIONS AS GLOBAL CRIMINAL PARIAHS: NEWSCORP AND ITS CORPORATE HOLDINGS: NEWS CORPORATION, NEWS UK BROADCASTING LIMITED. THE FOLLOWING CORPORATE ORGANISATIONS ARE CLASSIFIED AS GLOBAL CRIMINAL PARIAHS: ALL PERSPECTIVE LTD, LEGATUM GROUP, LEGATUM FOUNDATION.
BASED ON OUR OSINT REPORT AND EVIDENCE, THE ACTIVITIES OF THE MENTIONED CORPORATE ENTITIES ARE DEEMED CRIMINAL BECAUSE OF THE FOLLOWING ACTIVITIES:
THESE CORPORATE CRIMINAL ORGANISATIONS SHALL BE INDICTED FOR THEIR ACTIVE CRIMINAL ROLE IN CRIMINAL MASS-MEDIA DISINFORMATION, THE DISSEMINATION OF RHETORIC WHICH AMPLIFIES SOCIETAL DIVISION AND ETHNIC RACISM, THE DISSEMINATION OF SYSTEMATIC MASS-MEDIA DISINFORMATION ON BEHALF OF POLITICAL ORGANISATIONS AND SHADOW STATE-SPONSORED PROPAGANDA, WITH THE INCITEMENT AND PROPAGATION OF HATE SPEECH, HATE CRIME, ENFORCED DEPORTATION, AND SEVERE VIOLATIONS OF INTERNATIONAL LAW, INCLUDING WAR CRIMES, ETHNIC CLEANSING, FORCED DEPORTATION AND GENOCIDE. THE AFOREMENTIONED CORPORATE ENTITIES HAVE TO BE BROUGHT TO JUSTICE AND CHARGED FOR THE CRIMINAL DEFAMATION AND TARGETED DISINFORMATION CAMPAIGNS DIRECTED AGAINST THE EUROPEAN UNION AND EUROPEAN HUMAN RIGHTS INSTITUTIONS, AS WELL AS CHARGED FOR COORDINATED MASS-MEDIA PROPAGANDA ATTACKS AIMED AT UNDERMINING THE CIVIL AND HUMAN RIGHTS OF EUROPEAN CITIZENS.