Credit: Phil Nijhuis/ANP via AFP

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Apr 27 2026 (IPS)

Yasmin Ullah, from Myanmar’s persecuted Rohingya minority, is determined to see justice. On 13 April, she filed a complaint alleging genocide against Myanmar’s president, Min Aung Hlaing, to Indonesia’s Attorney General’s Office. Min Aung Hlaing led the 2021 coup that ousted a democratically elected government and this month was named president following a sham election held amid intense repression, rubber stamping the army’s continuing grip on power. However secure he appears in his position, Yasmin Ullah’s legal action offers hope his impunity may not be guaranteed.

The complaint accuses Min Aung Hlaing of genocide against Rohingya people, a predominantly Muslim ethnic group denied citizenship despite being long established in Myanmar. He’s accused of being responsible for the burning of Rohingya villages, forced evictions, killings and mass rape in a 2017 military operation, during which around 24,000 Rohingya people were killed and over 700,000 forced to flee. The UN’s fact-finding mission and its Independent Investigative Mechanism for Myanmar have extensively documented atrocities. Civil society has played a key role in gathering testimonies from survivors and preserving evidence.

The case was made possible by changes to Indonesia’s criminal code that came into effect in January. While civil society has raised concerns about revisions to other parts of the code that restrict Indonesian people’s ability to speak out and protest, this particular change stands out as a positive development, enabling people to bring charges against alleged perpetrators of atrocities in other countries under the principle of universal jurisdiction.

Universal jurisdiction on the rise

Universal jurisdiction applies to crimes under international law, such as genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes, on the grounds that these crimes are an offence against humanity as a whole and as such aren’t bound by borders.

Some states, including France and Germany, have passed laws to enable universal jurisdiction prosecutions. Many powerful states however still refuse to recognise the principle, citing national sovereignty, the long-established doctrine of immunity for heads of state and the potential for prosecutions to be politically motivated.

Yet the question of whether government leaders should be immune from prosecution has increasingly been contested. Immunity wasn’t granted when leaders of Sierra Leone and former Yugoslavia were prosecuted for crimes committed during civil wars, and the Rome Statute, which established the International Criminal Court (ICC), removed the principle of immunity where it has jurisdiction. Ironically, the Trump administration, which resists international accountability over its officials, may have contributed to further eroding the doctrine of immunity by abducting Venezuela’s president Nicolás Maduro and placing him on trial for drug trafficking.

Universal jurisdiction cases have increased since the end of the Cold War. Belgium, Finland and Germany convicted people for their role in the Rwanda genocide. Switzerland secured the first guilty verdict for crimes committed in the Liberian civil war, while France convicted another Liberian war criminal in 2022. Germany convicted a Bosnian paramilitary soldier of genocide and, in 2021 and 2022, found two Syrian officials guilty of atrocity crimes.

Hopes of justice

Rohingya people have no hope of justice in a country that refuses even to recognise them as citizens, so diaspora civil society organisations are seeking it wherever they find opportunities. In 2025, an Argentinian court issued arrest warrants against Min Aung Hlaing and other senior Myanmar officials on crimes against humanity and genocide charges, in a case brought by a Rohingya organisation. Earlier this year, a human rights organisation filed a criminal case against the Myanmar regime in Timor-Leste. When authorities appointed a senior prosecutor to examine the case, Myanmar retaliated by expelling Timor-Leste’s ambassador.

These efforts complement proceedings in international courts. In 2024, the ICC issued an arrest warrant against Min Aung Hlaing for crimes against humanity, while in January, hearings began at the International Court of Justice in a case brought by the Gambian government accusing Myanmar of breaching the Genocide Convention. It isn’t a question of choosing between national jurisdictions and international courts, but rather of taking every avenue available to demand justice.

Universal jurisdiction has its limits. Those accused tend to be safe when they hold power; when states have successfully prosecuted perpetrators, it’s after they’ve lost the power that enabled their crimes. Currently, this means attempts to hold Israel’s leaders accountable for the genocide in Gaza, such as arrest warrants a Turkish court issued against 37 officials, only have symbolic value. Cases motivated by political point-scoring also risk discrediting the principle, as when a body created by Malaysia’s former prime minister Mahathir Mohamad found an array of US officials guilty in absentia, without legal basis or consequence.

Actions under universal jurisdiction, when targeted at evident offenders, can nonetheless help build moral pressure and signal that justice may eventually come. At a time when the brutal and illegitimate Myanmar regime is buttressed by China, India and Russia, and with the USA easing its pressure in pursuit of economic benefits, it matters that other countries keep holding the line, isolating the junta and exposing its atrocities.

It matters all the more when pressure comes from Southeast Asian countries, depriving the Myanmar regime of the excuse that human rights accountability is a western imposition. Two members of the Association of Southeast Asian nations, Indonesia and Timor-Leste, have now taken action against a fellow member. But other attempts in the region have faltered. Philippine authorities declined to proceed when five survivors of atrocities filed a case in 2023, while an investigation civil society filed with Indonesia’s national human rights commission that same year, alleging that Indonesian companies were supplying military equipment to Myanmar, has so far seen no progress.

As 2026 president of the UN Human Rights Council, Indonesia is uniquely placed to take the lead in the pursuit of justice for atrocity crimes. Indonesian authorities must treat this case as a priority and give it the attention and resources it needs.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org

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Credit: Rajesh Jantilal/AFP

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Apr 20 2026 (IPS)

On 7 April, the government of Cameroon published a list of 16 of its citizens confirmed killed fighting for Russia against Ukraine. That means the number of Cameroon citizens killed in this distant war has likely surpassed a hundred, making the country the biggest victim of a Russian recruitment drive increasingly focused on Africa.

Conflict attrition

When Vladimir Putin launched Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, he probably assumed the war would be over in days. But now it has ground on past the four-year mark, and Russia’s tactics have brought horrendous loss of life on both sides. Putin treats his soldiers’ lives as disposable, throwing wave after wave of troops at Ukrainian lines in what have been called ‘meat grinder’ assaults. Amid pervasive disinformation, casualty estimates vary widely. A project to count confirmed deaths puts Russian military fatalities at over 206,000, while some estimates reach 1.3 million. Russia is reportedly losing soldiers faster than it can replace them.

Putin has turned to North Korean dictator Kim Jong Un: since 2024, North Korean forces have been fighting alongside Russian troops. Over 20,000 have been deployed, with a reported 6,000 casualties. Russia has also recruited from Central Asian countries and long-term allies such as Cuba. Ukraine too has brought in thousands of foreign fighters, including Colombian mercenaries. Now Russia is increasingly turning to Africa.

Russia’s African strategy

Putin has spent years cultivating relationships with African states, helping Russia resist international isolation and counter pressure from western states. The military relationship has been two-way: Russian mercenaries from the shadowy Wagner Group, now closely controlled by the government, have been deployed in as many as 18 African countries, including Burkina Faso, the Central African Republic and Mali. In some, they fight alongside government forces against insurgent groups; in others, including Libya, where two rival governments contest power, and Sudan, home to a brutal civil war, they’re backing one of two sides fighting for power. Wherever they operate, Russian mercenaries are accused of committing atrocities.

Russia’s arrival has come with some public support, cast as an alternative to the former colonial power France and promising more equal partnerships. When Wagner forces entered Mali in 2022, crowds lined the roads to greet them, waving Russian flags. Extensive pro-Russia disinformation campaigns typically precede Russia’s military involvement, laying the groundwork for such welcomes.

The relationship is extractive: in return for soldiers, Russia typically receives natural resources, including diamonds and gold, which help sustain a war that, despite Russia’s anti-imperialist posturing in Africa, is fundamentally imperial.

Repressive Central and West African governments, several run by military juntas or former army leaders who’ve traded their uniforms for civilian clothes, value a partner with no interest in scrutinising their human rights performance. Civil society organisations and media that try to expose human rights abuses by Russian forces come under attack.

From Africa to the frontlines

Russia is now exploiting the economic insecurity of many young African men, recruiting them to serve – and possibly die – on the Ukrainian front. Extensive recent civil society research has verified that Russia has so far recruited 1,417 African nationals, with the true figure almost certainly higher. The numbers have increased year on year, indicating a systematic plan. Egypt has supplied the most recruits, followed by Cameroon and Ghana. Of 1,417 verified recruits, 316, 22 per cent, have reportedly been killed.

Some recruits have expressed support for Russia online. Others are attracted by the promise of Russian citizenship and wages that far exceed anything they could earn at home. They may compare Russia’s apparent openness, signalled by its recent relaxation of visa requirements, with Europe’s increasing hostility towards migrants.

Others who’ve managed to escape report being conned. Fake job adverts made them believe they were signing up for civilian or support roles, including jobs as plumbers and security guards. On arrival, recruits are forced sign Russian-language contracts they can’t read, given minimal training and dispatched to the frontlines. The average service length of those killed is just six months, evidence that Russia treats them as expendable.

Intermediaries – including social media influencers who promote recruitment, travel agencies and people trafficking networks – are profiting from supplying recruits. In a bizarre political twist, Duduzile Zuma-Sambudla, a daughter of former South African president Jacob Zuma, is among those accused of recruiting Africans, including some falsely told they’d be trained as bodyguards for her father’s party. In December, South African police arrested five people on charges related to the recruitment of South Africans, including a journalist known for spreading pro-Russia propaganda.

Pressure for accountability

As evidence has accumulated, several African governments have taken action. The government of Togo warned its citizens about the dangers and, when several Togolese soldiers were captured in Ukraine, confirmed they’d been lured there by false promises of jobs and educational opportunities. Last year, the government of Botswana announced it was investigating the cases of two young men who believed they were signing up for a short-term military training programme but were forced to fight. In February, Ghana’s foreign minister confirmed that at least 55 of his country’s citizens had been killed and travelled to Ukraine to seek the release of Ghanaian prisoners of war. Police in Kenya and South African have arrested people trafficking gangs and closed down recruitment agencies. The Kenyan government recently announced Russia had agreed to stop recruiting Kenyan citizens, offering evidence that sustained bilateral pressure can produce results.

But many other African governments remain in denial, placing warm relations with Russia above the lives of their citizens. By doing so, they’re making clear that those lives are as disposable to them as they are to Russia.

Far more states must press Russia to end its abusive recruitment practices. And for international partners who claim to care about the welfare of young Africans, there’s a clear starting point: help address the economic conditions that create a ready pool of desperate recruits and drop the hostile migration policies that make Russia, of all places, look like a desirable destination.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

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Credit: Sanjit Pariyar/NurPhoto via AFP

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Mar 25 2026 (IPS)

Less than six months after Nepal’s Generation Z rose up in protest, the country has a new prime minister. A 35-year-old former rapper who soundtracked the protests swept to power in a landslide in the 5 March election.

Balendra Shah defeated former prime minister KP Sharma Oli, whose third stint as prime minister was cut short by the protests, beating him in his own turf. After years of fragile coalition governments, in which Sharma Oli and two other men of advancing age repeatedly swapped the role of prime minister, Nepal has chosen to change direction.

Gen Z-led protests

The September 2025 protests were triggered by the government’s banning of 26 social media platforms in an evident response to the ‘nepokids’ trend, in which people used social media to satirise the ostentatiously wealthy lifestyles of politicians’ family members, while most young people experienced daily economic struggles amid high inflation and youth unemployment. In a country where the median age is just 25, the ban was the final straw, activating long-simmering anger about corruption, poor public services and a political system that refused to listen to young people.

When young people took to the streets, the state unleashed violence. The deadliest day was 8 September, when some protesters broke into the parliamentary complex and police fired live military-grade ammunition, shooting many victims in the head. Nineteen people died that day, and overall at least 76 people died in the protests.

Rather than silence the protests, the state’s lethal crackdown swelled them, making clear this was about more than the social media ban; it was a struggle for Nepal’s future. Even more people took to the streets. On 9 September, Sharma Oli resigned. Some protesters turned to violence, while the army took over security and imposed a nationwide curfew. But events soon took a decisive turn. Chief Justice Sushila Karki was sworn in as interim prime minister on 12 September, kickstarting a process that led to the election. The interim government agreed to establish a Gen Z Council, a formal body designed to bridge the gap between the government and young people and enable them to hold it accountable and monitor implementation of reforms.

As the latest State of Civil Society Report sets out, Nepal’s movement inspired many of the year’s other Gen Z-led mobilisations. Nepali activists used the gaming platform Discord, including for a radical exercise in democracy that saw 10,000 people take part in online discussions that put forward Karki as interim prime minister. Morocco’s protesters also used Discord to coordinate their actions, while the Gen Z movement in Madagascar, where the army ultimately forced the government to quit, connected with Nepal’s Discord communities to learn from their organising. Movements in several countries adopted Nepal’s protest symbol, the skull-and-straw-hat flag from the One Piece manga, identifying themselves as part of the same global movement.

Around the world, Gen Z-led protests have commonly faced violent state repression but have forced real concessions: Bulgaria’s government quit, while politicians dropped unpopular policies in Indonesia and Timor-Leste. In Bangladesh, where a Gen Z-led protest movement ousted an authoritarian government in 2024, the country recently held its first credible election in almost two decades.

Time for change

The new energy unleashed by Nepal’s Gen Z-led protests was reflected in the registration of over 800,000 new voters, more parties standing than ever before, a profusion of younger candidates and an election campaign focused on corruption and good governance.

The result was a shock. Coalition governments are the norm in Nepal, but the centrist Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) won an outright majority, taking 182 of 275 House of Representatives seats after a campaign that made intensive use of social media. The three established parties all sustained heavy losses.

Shah used his music to attack corruption and inequality, resonating with the Gen Z movement during the protests, when one of his songs was viewed over 10 million times on YouTube. But he isn’t a completely new political figure, having become mayor of the capital, Kathmandu, in a surprise result when he ran as an independent in 2022. His track record there suggests grounds for concern. He’s rarely made himself available for media questioning, preferring to communicate directly via social media, where he’s known for making controversial outbursts. He also received criticism for deploying police against street vendors and launching ‘demolition drives’ to clear illegally built structures with minimal notice, leading to clashes between police and locals.

Shah now has a mandate to deliver change, and expectations are high. But he faces the challenge of reforming a typically resistant bureaucracy while delivering on his economic promises amid difficult global conditions worsened by the Israeli-US war on Iran, which threatens the remittances sent by the many Nepali workers based in Gulf countries, which constitute one quarter of the country’s GDP. He’ll need to navigate the difficult foreign policy balance between Nepal’s two powerful and often antagonistic neighbours, China and India. The new government must also ensure accountability for human rights violations during the 2025 protests, starting with releasing the report of a commission set up to investigate protest deaths, which hasn’t yet been made public.

The obvious danger, given these challenges and an outsized mandate, is that the government will adopt a heavy-handed approach, pushing through change while failing to listen. This is precisely when civil society is needed, to step in to hold the new government to account and ensure it respects human rights, including the right to keep expressing dissent.

Nepal’s Gen Z movement must guard against co-option by the new administration. The new government must acknowledge the vital role of Nepal’s outspoken young generation by moving quickly to form and resource the Gen Z Council and fully respecting its autonomy. The movement that helped bring Shah to power must stay engaged.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Mar 16 2026 (IPS)

Once again, global oil prices are spiking, driven by the Israeli-US war against Iran. With Iran retaliating by attacking infrastructure and transport hubs and blocking the Strait of Hormuz, through which one-fifth of the world’s oil passes, oil supplies from the region are being choked, pushing up prices. The cost of a barrel of Brent crude – the international benchmark for oil prices – stood at US$73 before the conflict but has surged beyond US$100 since. It could go higher still as war continues.

The impacts are already being felt when drivers fill up their petrol- and diesel-powered vehicles. But they go much wider. Bigger household energy bills will likely result, while businesses will pass on their increased costs in the form of higher prices. Russia’s 2022 full-scale invasion of Ukraine sent oil prices soaring and sparked a global cost-of-living crisis, and now, as many economies seemed to be recovering, the war in the Gulf has brought another shock. Impacts could be political as well as financial: in numerous countries, the cost-of-living crisis helped drive voters towards right-wing populist and nationalist politicians. Recent years have seen Gen Z-led protests erupt in countries around the world, fuelled in part by young people’s anger at failing economies.

In a world increasingly characterised by conflict and with powerful states tearing up the international rulebook in pursuit of material interests, more oil shocks and big economic and political impacts seem inevitable. Governments typically react with economic policies that fail to protect those with the least, and by meeting political unrest with repression. They should consider another way.

The world will remain vulnerable to oil price shocks only for as long as it stays dependent on oil. The climate crisis compels a rapid move away from fossil fuel dependency to abate the worst impacts of global heating. Increasingly, this should also be seen as a matter of economic and political security.

Some steps have been taken in the right direction. Renewables now provide over 30 per cent of global electricity. Investments in renewables more than double those in fossil fuels. But fossil fuel companies have immense power and are determined not to give it up. That was reflected in the fact that 1,600 fossil fuel lobbyists attended the latest global climate summit, COP30 in Brazil, and succeeded in preventing any new commitment to end fossil fuel extraction. Their power is shown in the lawsuit an oil company brought against Greenpeace, leading to a widely criticised trial in North Dakota, USA, with the campaigning organisation facing a punitive US$345 million damages bill. Their influence was reaffirmed by Donald Trump’s election win, after a campaign in which fossil fuel companies gave US$450 million in donations to Trump and his allies – and they were rewarded by US intervention in Venezuela.

Fossil fuel companies are determined to hold back the tide of renewables for as long as possible, because every day of delay is another day of profit, even though every fraction of a degree of temperature rise means avoidable suffering for millions of people. Delay is the new climate denial.

As the latest State of Civil Society Report points out, civil society’s working to make the difference, urging governments to hasten the transition and calling on global north states to make funding available for global south states to decarbonise and adapt to climate impacts. Civil society is exposing the environmental devastation caused by extraction and the complicity of fossil fuel companies in human rights abuses. Its strategies include advocacy, public campaigning, protests, direct action and, increasingly, litigation.

In 2025, climate litigation scored some big successes. The International Court of Justice (ICJ) issued an unprecedented advisory opinion, ruling that states have a legal duty to prevent environmental harm, which requires them to mitigate emissions and adapt to climate change. This victory originated in civil society: in 2019, student groups from eight countries formed the Pacific Islands Students Fighting Climate Change network to persuade their governments to seek an ICJ ruling.

Following extensive civil society engagement, the Inter-American Court of Human Rights issued a similar ruling. The African Court for Human and Peoples’ Rights is set to issue its advisory opinion following a petition brought by the African Climate Platform, a civil society coalition.

These rulings can seem symbolic, but they strengthen national-level efforts to hold states and corporations accountable. These have paid off recently too. In 2025, two South African groups stopped an offshore oil project after a court found its environmental assessments were deeply flawed. More litigation is coming, including in New Zealand, where civil society has filed a lawsuit after the government weakened its emissions reduction plan.

But civil society faces a backlash. Around the world, climate and environmental activists and their allies, Indigenous and land rights defenders, experience severe state and corporate repression.

Last year in Uganda, authorities arrested 11 activists for protesting against the construction of the East African Crude Oil Pipeline. In Peru, police used teargas and non-lethal weapons against people blocking a road to protest against a mine. In Cambodia, five young activists from the Mother Nature environmental group have been in jail since July 2024.

The French government has repeatedly vilified environmental campaigners and deployed police violence against protests, while last year the German government launched an inquiry into public funding of environmental groups and the Dutch parliament adopted a motion condemning Extinction Rebellion and urging the removal of its tax-exempt status.

As the latest oil price shocks reverberate around the global economy, governments should learn the lessons. As economies deteriorate, the temptation will be to say that transition is a luxury, something that can be put off even further. This is the wrong lesson: recent research in the UK suggests that the cost of achieving net zero will be about the same as the cost of another oil price crisis. Economic and political security lies in ending fossil fuel dependency as quickly as possible. To learn the right lessons, governments should stop repressing climate activism and instead listen to and work with civil society.

Andrew Firmin isCIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Dec 30 2025 (IPS)

Satellite images show corpses piled high in El Fasher, North Darfur, awaiting mass burial or cremation as the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) militia tries to cover up the scale of its crimes. Up to 150,000 El Fasher residents remain missing from the city, seized by the RSF in November. The lowest estimate is that 60,000 are dead. The Arab militia has ethnically cleansed the city of its non-Arab residents. The slaughter is the latest horrific episode in the war between the RSF and the Sudan Armed Forces, sparked by a power battle between military leaders in April 2023.

Both sides have committed atrocities, including executions, extrajudicial killings and sexual violence. It’s hard to gather accurate figures, but at least 150,000 people are estimated to have been killed. Around nine million people have been internally displaced, and close to four million more have fled across the border. Some 25 million now face famine.

Civil society and humanitarian workers are responding as best they can, but they’re in the firing line. They face death, violence, abduction and detention. Emergency orders impose bureaucratic restrictions on civil society organisations and limit aid operations and freedoms of assembly, expression and movement, while troops also block aid delivery.

Reporting on the conflict is difficult and dangerous. Almost all media infrastructure has been destroyed, many newspapers have stopped publishing and both sides are targeting journalists, with many forced into exile. Extensive disinformation campaigns obscure what’s happening on the ground. Mohamed Khamis Douda, spokesperson for the Zamzam displacement camp, exemplified the dangers for those who tell the truth. He stayed on in El Fasher to provide vital updates to international media. When the RSF invaded, they sought him out and killed him.

The world looks away

Sudan is sometimes called a forgotten war, but it’s more accurate to say the world is choosing to ignore it – and this suits several powerful states. The United Arab Emirates (UAE) is the RSF’s biggest backer. It continues to deny this, even though weapons manufactured by the UAE or supplied to it by its allies have been found at sites recovered from RSF control. Without its support, the RSF would likely have lost the war by now.

In recent years, the UAE has worked to cultivate influence among several African states. It has developed a series of ports around Africa, with one planned on Sudan’s stretch of the Red Sea. It has big agricultural investments in Sudan and receives most of the gold mined there. The UAE has evidently concluded that RSF control is the best way of securing its influence and protecting its interests, regardless of the cost in human lives. In response, Sudan’s government has moved to improve links with Russia. It’s been reported it may allow Russia to develop a permanent Red Sea naval base.

The UAE faces little international pressure because western states that are strongly aligned with it, including the UK and USA, downplay its role. The UK government continues to supply the UAE with arms in the knowledge these are being transferred to the RSF, while a whistleblower has accused it of removing warnings about possible genocide in Sudan from a risk assessment analysis to protect the UAE. The European Union and UK reacted to the El Fasher atrocities by placing sanctions on four RSF leaders and the USA is said to be considering further sanctions, but these measures never reach as far as figures in the UAE government.

The UN Security Council, where the UK is the permanent member that leads on Sudan, has also been predictably ineffective. Russia has said it will veto any resolution the UK brings. Yet in June, the UK refused an offer from African states, serving on the Council on a rotating basis, to take over responsibility, something that could have created more space for negotiation.

Among other countries with regional influence, Egypt strongly favours the Sudan government, and Saudi Arabia is somewhat supportive too. They come together with the UAE and USA in a forum called the quad. Despite competing interests, in September there appeared grounds for hope when the quad brokered what was supposed to be a three-month humanitarian truce, followed by a nine-month transition to civilian rule. Both sides accepted the plan, only for the RSF to keep fighting, causing the Sudanese government to reject the proposal.

Pressure and accountability

Whether fighting halts may depend on the USA’s diplomatic whims. Trump has recently appeared to take more interest in the conflict, likely prompted by Saudi Arabia’s ruler Mohammed bin Salman, who visited the White House in November.

Trump may want to claim to have ended another conflict in his evident quest for the Nobel Peace Prize, but it’s hard to see progress unless the US government proves willing to pressure the UAE, including through tariffs, a blunt instrument Trump has used to force deals on other states. The fact the Trump administration currently applies tariffs at its lowest rate, 10 per cent, shows its continuing warmth towards the UAE.

Campaigners are trying to focus more attention on the UAE’s central role in the conflict. One highly visible focus is basketball: the NBA has an extensive and growing sponsorship agreement with the UAE, part of the regime’s efforts to sportswash its international reputation. Civil society campaigners are calling on the NBA to end its partnership, and their advocacy may help move Sudan up the US agenda.

The international community has the power to stop the killing, but first it must acknowledge the role of the UAE and its western allies in enabling it. All involved in the conflict, within and beyond Sudan, must put aside their calculations of narrow self-interest. The UAE, their allies and the other quad states should face greater pressure to broker a genuine ceasefire as a first step towards peace, and use their leverage with the warring parties to ensure they stick to it.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Oct 9 2025 (IPS)

Democracy was the winner and Russia the loser in Moldova’s 28 September election. The incumbent pro-Europe Party of Action and Solidarity (PAS) won a parliamentary majority on just over half of the vote, while support for a pro-Russia coalition collapsed to a record low. The result came in the face of Russia’s most intense attempt yet to influence an election, with a propaganda and disinformation operation allegedly orchestrated by Ilan Shor, a disgraced Moldovan oligarch who fled to Russia to escape jail time for his role in a massive fraud.

Moldova, a landlocked country with a population of under 2.4 million, rarely commands headlines. But its location, sandwiched between EU member Romania and war-torn Ukraine, makes it prime territory for an ongoing tussle over the future of former communist states.

Since 2009, every Moldovan prime minister has been committed to European integration, and Moldova formally applied to join the EU following Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022. As support for pro-Russia parties has declined at the ballot box, Russia has increasingly turned to covert influence operations, with Shor the reported lynchpin.

Shor is believed to have been a key figure in Moldova’s biggest scandal: in November 2014, around US$1 billion was fraudulently transferred from three banks in fake loans. The banks went bankrupt, forcing the government to provide a bailout equivalent to one eighth of GDP.

Shor, chair of one of the banks, was accused of being among the masterminds. In 2017, he was convicted of money laundering, fraud and breach of trust and sentenced to seven and a half years in jail. But in 2019, while under house arrest pending appeal, he fled the country, first to Israel and then Russia, where he now has citizenship. Shor’s only hope of returning without going to jail is a pro-Russia government, and he’s able to use his riches to promote his cause.

Shor was accused of paying people to take part in protests triggered by high energy prices when Russia used gas supplies as a weapon, slashing them in the winter of 2022-2023. Ahead of the 2024 presidential election and a referendum on the EU, he promised to pay people to register for his campaign to oppose the referendum or publish anti-EU posts; the government said he’d paid close to US$16 million to 130,000 people, sharing instructions on how spread disinformation on the messaging app Telegram. The 2024 campaign was awash with disinformation, including deepfake videos and false claims about President Maia Sandu. Fake social media accounts proliferated, opposing the EU and Sandu and promoting pro-Russia views.

The 2025 campaign saw a further intensification of these influence efforts. A secret network, again coordinated via Telegram, offered to pay people for posting pro-Russia propaganda and anti-PAS disinformation on Facebook and TikTok, and to help carry out selective polling that would overstate pro-Russia support, potentially as part of a plan to dispute the results should they be close. A BBC investigation found links between this network, Shor and one of his organisations, Evrazia, with money sent via a Russian state-owned bank used by its defence ministry.

The network ran online training sessions on how to use ChatGPT to produce social media posts, including those making ludicrous claims that Sandu is involved in child trafficking and the EU would force people to change sexual orientation. At least 90 TikTok accounts receiving over 23 million views since the start of the year were involved. The investigation found no comparable disinformation campaign in support of PAS.

Russia also evidently tried to target Moldova’s million-strong diaspora, who tend to favour pro-EU parties. People in diaspora communities were offered cash, evidently from Russian sources, to serve as election observers, with large bonuses for providing any evidence of fraud. This seemed to be an attempt to promote doubt about the integrity of the diaspora vote.

The influence campaign extended to the Orthodox Church: last year, Moldovan clergy were treated to an all-expenses-paid trip to holy sites in Russia, then promised money if they took to social media to warn their followers about the dangers of EU integration. They duly established over 90 Telegram channels pushing out almost identical content positioning the EU as a threat to traditional family values.

A few days before the vote, Moldovan authorities detained 74 people suspected of planning post-election violence. Authorities claimed they’d travelled to Serbia, under the guise of an Orthodox pilgrimage, to be trained in how to resist security forces, break through cordons and use weapons. On election day, officials reported attempted cyberattacks and bomb scares at polling stations in Moldova and abroad.

Challenges ahead

Moldova’s democratic institutions have survived a crucial test, repaying efforts to strengthen the country’s defences against Russian interference made since the 2024 votes. But the struggle for Moldova’s future is far from over. As it moves closer to the EU, Russia isn’t simply going to walk away. Even dirtier tricks may come.

Meanwhile the government faces many other problems. In one of Europe’s poorest countries, people are struggling with the high cost of living. Public services have come under strain as Moldova hosts proportionately more Ukrainian refugees than anywhere else. Corruption concerns haven’t been adequately addressed. Many young people are seeking better lives abroad.

In combating future Russian influence attempts, the government faces the challenge of striking the right balance on regulating social media and political financing, strengthening its intelligence services and building stronger social media literacy and awareness of disinformation. It will need help from EU countries, as it will to further modernise its energy infrastructure, including through more investments in renewable energy to disarm one of Russia’s most potent tools.

Moldova’s hopes of EU membership will rest on its progress in addressing these challenges. Even then, as the experience of Hungary shows, becoming an EU member doesn’t guarantee protection against the dangers of authoritarianism. But there’s no hope for democracy and human rights should Moldova fall under Russia’s grip.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org

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A view of the podium and the United Nations emblem in the General Assembly Hall. Credit: UN Photo/Loey Felipe

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Sep 26 2025 (IPS)

As the high-level opening week of the UN General Assembly unfolds, with heads of states delivering often self-serving speeches from the UN’s podium, the organisation is undergoing one of its worst set of crises since its founding 80 years ago. This year’s General Assembly – ostensibly focused on development, human rights and peace – comes as wars are raging across multiple continents, climate targets are dangerously being missed and the institution designed to address these global challenges is being hollowed out by funding cuts and political withdrawals.

A UN Commission has just determined that Israel is committing genocide in Gaza, while the Israeli state recently escalated its campaign of violence by bombing Qatar. Meanwhile, Russia’s war on Ukraine threatens to spill over with its recent launch of drones against Poland and incursion into Estonia’s airspace. Conflicts continue in Myanmar, Sudan and many other countries, despite the UN’s foundational hopes of ensuring peace, security and respect for human rights.

The Trump administration has abandoned multilateralism in favour of transactional bilateral dealmaking while spearheading a donor funding withdrawal that is hitting both the UN and civil society hard. The US government has also repudiated the Sustainable Development Goals, the ambitious and progressive targets all states agreed in 2015, but which are now badly off track.

Today’s multiple and growing crises demand an effective and powerful UN – but at the same time they make this less likely to happen.

Cutbacks loom large

As state leaders meet, one of the items on the agenda is the UN80 initiative. Launched in March, this is presented as a reform process to mark the UN’s 80th anniversary. But reflecting the impacts of the funding crisis, it’s first and foremost a cost-cutting drive. The slashing of donor aid – not only by the USA, but also by other established donor states such as France, Germany and the UK, often in favour of military spending – is having a global impact. The UN is being hit both by states failing to pay their mandatory assessed contributions, or delaying them for long spells, and by underfunding of initiatives that rely on additional voluntary support.

When it comes to mandatory contributions, the most powerful states are those that owe the most, with the USA in the lead with a circa US$1.5 billion debt, followed by China on close to US$600 million. Meanwhile voluntary funding shortfalls are particularly hitting human rights work, always the most underfunded part of the UN’s work. In June, UN human rights chief Volker Türk announced that 18 activities mandated by Human Rights Council resolutions wouldn’t be implemented because of resource constraints. In a world riven by sickening conflicts, human rights investigations on Palestine, Sudan and Ukraine aren’t able to operate at anywhere near full capacity.

Funding shortfalls, intensified by the Trump administration pulling out of key UN bodies and agreements, have forced the UN to plan for a 20 per cent budget cut in 2026. That may involve shedding some 7,000 jobs from its 35,000-person workforce, merging some agencies, shutting offices and relocating functions to cheaper locations.

The UN is undoubtedly an unwieldy and over-bureaucratic set of institutions, and it would be surprising if there weren’t some efficiency savings to be made. If staff are relocated from expensive global north hubs to cheaper global south locations, it could help UN bodies and staff better understand global south realities and improve access for civil society groups that struggle to travel to the key locations of Geneva and New York, particularly given the Trump administration’s new travel restrictions – although that wouldn’t be the rationale behind relocation.

But the proposed cuts mean the UN is effectively planning to do less than it has done before, at a time when the problems are bigger than they’ve been in decades. Given this, decisions about UN priorities mustn’t be left to its officials or states alone. Civil society must be enabled to have a say.

Civil society already has far too little access to UN processes. At the high-level week, even civil society organisations normally accredited for UN access are locked out of events. Reform processes such as last year’s Summit of the Future have also fallen far short of the access needed. Civil society’s proposals to improve the situation – starting with the creation of a civil society envoy, a low-cost innovation to help coordinate civil society participation across the UN – haven’t been taken up.

Now even civil society’s limited access could be further curtailed. Already the Human Rights Council is shortening sessions, reducing the opportunities available for civil society. The proposed cuts would impact disproportionately on the UN’s human rights work. In the name of efficiency, the UN could end up becoming less effective, if it grows even more state-centric and less prepared to uphold international human rights law. States that systematically violate human rights can only benefit from the ensuing lower levels of scrutiny.

Civil society is an essential voice in any conversation about what kind of UN the world needs and how to make it fit for purpose. It urgently must be included if the UN is to have any hope of fulfilling its founding promise to serve ‘we the peoples’.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org

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Credit: Nacho Doce/Reuters via Gallo Images

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Aug 21 2025 (IPS)

It’s peak holiday season across Europe and North America, and people are hitting the beaches and crowding into city centres in ever-increasing numbers. They’re part of a huge industry: last year, travel and tourism’s share of the global economy stood at US$10.9 trillion, around 10 per cent of the world’s GDP.

But residents in tourist destinations are keenly aware of the downsides: overwhelming visitor numbers, permanent changes in their neighbourhoods, antisocial behaviour, strained local services, environmental impacts including litter and pollution, and soaring housing costs.

Overtourism occurs when the industry systematically impacts on residents’ quality of life. It’s a growing problem, reflected in recent protests in several countries, with grassroots civil society groups demanding more sustainable approaches.

Residents’ protests

June brought coordinated protests across Europe. In Barcelona, a city of 1.6 million people that receives 32 million visitors a year, the Neighbourhood Assembly for Tourism Degrowth organised a protest that saw people tape off hotel entrances, set off smoke bombs and fire water pistols. In Genoa, protesters dragged a replica cruise ship through the medieval centre’s maze of alleys to highlight the impacts of cruise tourism. Actions had been coordinated at a meeting in April between representatives from France, Italy, Portugal and Spain, who formed the Southern European Network Against Touristification.

These weren’t the first protests. Thousands took to the streets in Spain’s Canary Islands in May, while last year people protested in several European cities. Most recently, residents of Montmartre in Paris hung banners outside their houses pointing out how overtourism is changing their neighbourhood.

Civil society groups are taking action beyond protests. In the Netherlands, residents’ group Amsterdam Has a Choice is threatening legal action against the city council. In 2021, following a civil society-led petition, the council set a limit of 20 million overnight tourist stays a year. But research shows this limit has consistently been exceeded. Now the group could take the city to court to enforce it.

People are protesting across multiple countries because they face the same problem: overtourism is changing their communities and, increasingly, driving them away.

Overtourism impacts

Tourism may create jobs, but these are often low-paid or seasonal jobs with few labour rights or opportunities for career progression. In places with intensive tourism, everyday businesses that residents rely on are often replaced by those oriented towards tourists, with established firms squeezed out by high rents.

Environmental impacts may hit residents while tourists are protected from them: campaigners in Ibiza complain that water shortages mean they’re subject to restrictions, but hotels face no such limitations. Common areas residents once relied on, such as beaches and parks, can become overcrowded and degraded. Ultimately, communities can be turned into stage sets and sites of extraction, impacting on crucial matters of identity and belonging. That’s why one movement in Spain calls itself ‘Less Tourism, More Life’.

Housing costs are a major concern in overtourism protests. In many countries, the costs of buying or renting somewhere to live are soaring, far outstripping wages. Young people are particularly hard hit, forced to hand over ever-higher proportions of their income in rent. Tourism is driving the increasing use of properties for short-term holiday rentals instead of permanent residences. People who live in tourist hotspots have seen once-viable homes bought as investments for short-term lets, causing a loss of available housing and driving up the price of what’s left.

People who live in apartment blocks that have largely become used for short-term rentals complain of their communities being hollowed out: they lack neighbours but frequently have to put up with antisocial behaviour. The sector is often underregulated, and landlords may find regulations easy to ignore and taxes easy to avoid. Spain alone has an estimated 66,000 illegal tourist apartments.

Action needed

Overtourism protests hit the headlines last year when a group sprayed water at tourists in Barcelona. But in the main, protesters are making clear they don’t want to target tourists and aren’t motivated by xenophobia. They want a fair balance between tourists enjoying their holidays and locals being able to live their lives. They want those who reap tourism’s profits to pay their fair share to fix the problems.

Protests are having an impact, with authorities taking steps to rein in holiday rentals. Last year a Spanish court ordered the removal of almost 5,000 Airbnb listings following a complaint that they breached tourism regulations. The mayor of Barcelona has announced plans to eliminate short-term tourist rentals within five years by refusing to renew licences as they expire. Authorities in Lisbon have paused the issuing of short-term rental licences, and those in Athens have introduced a one-year ban on new registrations. That still leaves plenty of regulatory gaps across many countries, and national and local governments should engage with campaigners to further develop regulations.

Many local authorities have also implemented tourist taxes, while Venice has started to charge a peak-season access fee for non-residents and Athens now assigns time slots as a way of managing numbers at the Parthenon. It’s important that taxes and charges aren’t used simply to extract more cash from tourists or dampen demand; money generated must directly help affected communities and mitigate the harm caused by overtourism.

Authorities also need to be more careful about the marketing choices they make and consider whether they’re promoting tourism too widely. Marketing campaigns should try to sensitise visitors about the impacts they can have, and to make choices that minimise them.

Movements campaigning against overtourism are sure to grow, connecting groups concerned about environmental, housing and labour issues as the problem worsens, and as climate change places even greater strain on scarce resources. Overtourism concerns are ultimately an expression of frustration with a bigger problem – that economies don’t work for the benefit of most people. States and the international community must urgently grapple with the question of how to make economies fairer, more sustainable and less extractive – and they must listen to the movements against overtourism that are helping sound the alarm.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org

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Credit: Kim Kyung-Hoon/Reuters via Gallo Images

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Aug 4 2025 (IPS)

Rice queues – something once unthinkable – began appearing around May. As the country’s staple food hit record prices, frustrated shoppers found themselves breaking a cultural taboo by switching to rice from South Korea. It was a symbol of how far Japan’s economic certainties had crumbled, creating fertile ground for a political shift.

That came on 20 July, when Japan joined the ranks of countries where far-right parties are gaining ground. The Sanseitō party took 15.7 per cent of the vote in the election for parliament’s upper house, while the ruling two-party coalition of the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) and Kōmeitō lost its majority. The result spells trouble for Japan’s civil society.

From conspiracy theories to parliament

Sanseitō, founded during the COVID-19 pandemic, grew out of a right-wing YouTube channel. Initially, it spread virus conspiracy theories and opposed masks and vaccines, territory that globally provided entry points for far-right radicalisation. Since then, it’s embraced exclusionary politics.

The party’s leader, Sohei Kamiya, says he wants to be Japan’s Trump. His ‘Japan First’ agenda, accompanied by an abundance of xenophobic rhetoric, urges strict immigration limits.

Sanseitō shows deep hostility towards excluded groups. It strongly opposes LGBTQI+ rights, even though these are limited in Japan, calling for repeal of the 2023 LGBT Understanding Promotion Act. The party opposes same-sex marriage; despite civil society legal action leading to mixed court judgments, Japan remains the only G7 country to not recognise marriage equality.

Kamiya has blamed young women for Japan’s declining birthrate, saying they’re too career-focused and should stay home and have children. He’s has also said he supports Trump’s moves to eliminate climate protections and calls for Japan’s militarisation, positions right-wing populists are commonly taking around the world.

Economic crisis and political corruption

Change has been coming in Japan’s previously static politics. The LDP, a big tent right-wing party, has been in power, either on its own or with Kōmeitō, for almost all of the time since its 1955 founding. It long enjoyed credit for reconstructing Japan’s shattered post-Second World War economy and rebuilding international relationships through a strongly US-aligned foreign policy.

But its dominance has crumbled under economic stagnation and corruption scandals. The LDP lost its lower house majority in a snap October 2024 election, called by Prime Minister Shigeru Ishiba after he assumed leadership following his predecessor’s scandal-forced resignation.

In November 2023, it was revealed that some US$4 million had been hidden in unreported and illegal slush funds linked to key party factions. This scandal followed the July 2022 assassination of former prime minister Shinzo Abe, whose killer harboured a grudge against the Unification Church, a religious movement widely considered a cult. The killing threw the spotlight on extensive links between the church and LDP.

Political crisis coincided with economic malaise. Inflation is rare in Japan, but in common with many other countries, food prices have spiked and pay hasn’t kept pace. The rice crisis, partly due by extreme weather impacts caused by climate change, provided the most potent symbol, affecting a staple food deeply embedded in national identity. The government reacted to high prices by releasing some of its reserve stock, but refused calls to cut the 10 per cent consumption tax, which Sanseitō wants to abolish.

Demographics and immigration fears

Underlying these economic problem lies Japan’s demographic challenge. An estimated 30 per cent of people are aged 65 or over, and around 10 per cent are 80-plus. The flipside is a low fertility rate: each woman is currently predicted to have 1.2 children, far below the 2.1 rate needed to maintain a stable population.

Japan’s demographics threaten to undermine its economic base, since there may not be enough taxpayers to fund social security spending. A previously reluctant government has been forced to ease tight immigration controls and bring in more working-age people. Foreign-born residents now comprise around three per cent of Japan’s population, a small proportion for most global north economies but a highly visible change in a previously broadly homogenous society.

Sanseitō has weaponised this demographic shift, unleashing xenophobic rhetoric to tap into anxieties about cultural change, blaming foreigners for domestic problems. Anxiety about the birthrate has also provided ample ground to scapegoat feminism and LGBTQI+ rights movements.

Political disengagement and generational divides

The political establishment’s failure to connect with younger generations also created a dangerous vulnerability. Research in 2024 showed that only a third of voters were satisfied with the way Japan’s democracy currently works, and over half didn’t identify with any political party. Disaffection is widest among young people, exacerbated by the reality that politicians are typically a generation or two older.

The swing towards Sanseitō suggests that at least some disenchanted with established politics found something to vote for. The party draws support particularly from young people, and especially young men. It’s aided by having a much stronger social media presence than established parties, with around 500,000 YouTube followers compared to the LDP’s 140,000.

In many countries, it was once a safe assumption that young people were more progressive than older generations, but increasingly that no longer holds. In economies where young people are struggling, anything that looks new and promises to break with failed establishment politics, even when extremist, can be appealing.

Instability and polarisation ahead

Sanseitō says it doesn’t want to work with any established party and, as has been seen in other countries, may use its parliamentary presence to mount stunts and court publicity. Its support is unlikely to have peaked, and even though it doesn’t have power, it can expect influence: once far-right rhetoric moves from into the mainstream, it seeps into and shifts the broader political debate.

Japan’s rightward tilt could extend beyond Sanseitō. Unhappiness with the LDP saw another right-wing party, the Democratic Populist Party, pick up support. These shifts could cause the LDP to respond to its losses by taking a more nationalist and conservative tack, as associated with its former leader Abe.

Japan’s trajectory mirrors concerning patterns across global north democracies such as France, Germany, Italy and Portugal, where right-wing populist parties have gained profile by provoking outrage, sowing division and targeting excluded groups, alongside the civil society that defends their rights.

This all suggests danger for Japan’s excluded groups and civil society. As Japan steps along this troubling path, its civil society needs to be ready to make the case for human rights. What began as a rice crisis has evolved into a test of whether Japan’s democratic institutions, including its civil society, can withstand a gathering populist storm.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org

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Credit: Anthony Kwan/Getty Images via Gallo Images

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Jul 4 2025 (IPS)

Joshua Wong sits in a maximum-security prison cell, knowing the Hong Kong authorities are determined to silence him forever. On 6 June, police arrived at Stanley Prison bringing fresh charges that could see the high-profile democracy campaigner imprisoned for life. This is the reality of Hong Kong: even when behind bars, activists can be considered too dangerous ever to be freed.

An infamous anniversary is approaching. 30 June will mark five years since the passing of Hong Kong’s draconian national security law. Imposed on the supposedly autonomous territory by the Chinese government, the law made it a crime to call for democracy, leading to numerous jail sentences.

Last year, the Hong Kong authorities gave themselves still more powers to suppress dissent by passing another law, the Safeguarding National Security Ordinance. Already, police have used the new law to arrest over 300 people, including for such trivial offences as wearing T-shirts with protest slogans.

Democracy movement ruthlessly suppressed

The heady days of Hong Kong’s vibrant youth-led democracy movement, which erupted into large-scale protests in 2019, are a distant memory. It’s been so long now that some of those jailed have been freed from prison at the end of their sentences. But the authorities are determined to keep persecuting the most high-profile activists.

Wong’s case exemplifies the authorities’ determination to silence prominent voices. The young activist is the movement’s most famous faces. He’s been repeatedly jailed for protest-related offences going back to 2017, and has now spent over four years in prison either serving sentences or awaiting further trials. He’s now charged with conspiring to collude with foreign forces, for allegedly working with exiled democracy activists to urge international sanctions on China, a crime under the national security law.

Meanwhile, Jimmy Lai’s trial continues. The former media owner used his Apple Daily newspaper to support the democracy movement, until the authorities forced it to close in 2021. Like Wong, Lai has already received several sentences, but his current drawn-out trial is on the more serious charges of colluding with foreign forces and conspiring to publish seditious materials.

Lai, who also holds British citizenship, has been held in solitary confinement since December 2020. He’s 77 years old and in poor health, and his family are concerned that in such conditions he might not withstand the fierce heat of another summer. The authorities clearly intend for him to die in jail.

Tradition of dissent crushed

The Hong Kong of today is unrecognisable from the country once promised. When the UK handed the territory over to China in 1997, it was under a treaty in which the Chinese state committed to maintaining its separate political system for 50 years. This included guarantees to uphold civic freedoms. But China has unilaterally torn up that agreement and is determined to make Hong Kong indistinguishable from the totalitarian mainland.

On top of criminalising thousands of protesters, the authorities have thoroughly suppressed a once vibrant media. Hong Kong now stands at 140 out of 180 countries on Reporters Without Borders’ Press Freedom Index; in 2018, before the current intensive crackdown began, it was in 70th place. Recently, journalists have been subjected to a systematic campaign of anonymous harassment and intimidation. Authorities have started to target journalists and media companies for supposedly random tax audits.

In these conditions, many civil society groups, political parties and media houses have had no choice but to shut down, while international media have been forced to relocate. In April, it was the turn of Hong Kong’s oldest and biggest pro-democracy party, the Democratic Party, to close. Long a moderate voice that was careful not to speak out against China, it had nonetheless recently received warnings from Chinese state officials.

The timing reveals the authorities’ desire for absolute control. The next election for the Legislative Council, Hong Kong’s parliament, is due in December, and in democracies, parties gear up rather than close down ahead of elections. But most Legislative Council seats aren’t directly elected and only pro-China candidates are allowed to stand. With this latest party closure, the authorities are evidently intent on denying even the prospect of token opposition.

In the face of the crackdown, some democracy activists have managed to escape into exile, but there’s no safety there, since China is the world’s number one transnational repressor. In 2023 and 2024, the authorities placed a bounty on the heads of 19 exiled activists, offering rewards for their capture.

Hong Kong authorities have stripped exiles of passports, while police have targeted their families for questioning. May saw a further escalation, when police arrested the father and brother of US-based exile Anna Kwok, one of the 19 with a price on their heads.

Ever-growing control

The Chinese state’s reach now extends to the most trivial aspects of daily life. Pro-China informants report people who fall foul of laws, and there’s seemingly no act of rebellion too small to escape official notice. In June, Hong Kong police warned people not to download a mobile phone game developed in Taiwan on the grounds it was secessionist. Teachers – who must deliver a pro-China curriculum – have been instructed not to attend 4 July events organised by the US consulate, and to discourage students attending. Education minister Christine Choi Yuk-lin recently warned of the dangers of book fairs and other acts of ‘soft resistance’ in schools.

The Chinese state now holds all the cards in Hong Kong. But Hong Kong’s story isn’t just about a small territory’s loss of freedom: it’s a warning to the world about what happens when authoritarianism advances unchecked. As Wong faces the prospect of life imprisonment for the crime of calling for democracy and Lai withers in solitary confinement, the international community must review its commitment to democracy. The very least Hong Kong’s underground and exiled activists deserve is international solidarity and support to ensure their safety against attacks. As their struggle continues, the world shouldn’t look away.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Jun 20 2025 (IPS)

On a resounding 79.4 per cent turnout, South Korean voters have delivered a clear mandate for change. Lee Jae-myung of the centrist Democratic Party of Korea (DPK) decisively won the 3 June election, becoming the country’s new president after a turbulent time for South Korean democracy.

Just six months before, South Koreans took to the streets to defend their democracy when President Yoon Suk Yeol tried to impose martial law. Their determination to protect democratic institutions paved the way for electoral change, proving once again that South Koreans deeply value hard-won freedoms.

Failed coup

The road to democratic renewal began with an unprecedented constitutional crisis. Yoon, of the centre-right People Power Party (PPP), had won the presidency in 2022 by the narrowest of margins, benefiting from a backlash against the country’s emerging feminist movement. But his success wasn’t long lived: the PPP suffered a heavy defeat in the 2024 parliamentary election. Hamstrung by a DPK-controlled National Assembly, the besieged Yoon took an unprecedented gamble. On 3 December, he declared martial law.

Yoon claimed his decision was motivated by the need to combat ‘pro-North Korean anti-state forces’, attempting to conflate political opposition with support for the totalitarian menace across the border. Yoon allegedly instructed the military to launch drones into North Korea. He also ordered the army to arrest several political leaders, including Lee and the head of his own party, Han Dong Hoon, and sent troops to try to stop the National Assembly meeting.

Most South Koreans saw this for what it was: an attempt by a failing president to hang onto power through undemocratic means. Their response was immediate and overwhelming. People flooded the streets, massing outside the National Assembly. As the army blocked the gates, politicians climbed fences. Some 190 lawmakers managed to get in, unanimously voting to repeal the martial law declaration.

Yoon made a televised apology but a few days later issued a statement of defiance, insisting his decision had been legitimate and pledging to ‘fight to the end’. The end came quickly. An impeachment vote suspended his presidency. His impeachment trial concluded on 4 April, with the court ordering the end of his presidency and a fresh election. Yoon is now on trial on insurrection charges. His arrest on 15 January followed a dramatic failed attempt on 3 January, when Yoon supporters and his security blocked access to the presidential palace, leading to violent clashes. Protests have continued both for and against Yoon.

Campaign issues

Lee has benefited from the public appetite for change. His campaign tacked rightwards, deemphasising some of the more progressive policies he’d previously championed, such as basic income for young people. This positioning helped win over former PPP supporters appalled by Yoon’s actions and the party’s continuing failure to condemn them.

Lee comfortably beat PPP candidate Kim Moon-soo. But another important factor was a split in the vote on the right: a more conservative party, the Reform Party, had broken off from the PPP and captured 8.3 per cent of the vote. Had these two reunited, they could have prevailed despite Yoon’s dismal record in office.

The martial law crisis dominated the campaign, but it wasn’t the only issue. Economic matters were important for many voters, with South Korea’s once-mighty economy faltering and high living costs and inequality becoming pressing concerns. These worries were exacerbated by the threat of US tariffs: South Korea, the fourth-biggest steel exporter to the USA, faces 50 per cent tariffs.

Political polarisation seems sure to continue following a bruising election campaign that saw the two main candidates accuse each other of planning to destroy democracy. Lee, who survived an assassination attempt in 2024 and faces death threats, campaigned under heavy security. One crucial test of his presidency will be whether he can heal these divides.

Challenges ahead

Lee however enters office carrying his own baggage, in the form of corruption allegations. In 2023, he was indicted on multiple charges over alleged collusion with property developers when he was mayor of Seongnam city. In November 2024, he received a one-year suspended sentence for making false statements about his relationship with the former head of the Seongnam Development Corporation.

A retrial is pending following an appeal, postponed until 18 June to take place after the election; a guilty verdict could have prevented Lee standing. Lee insists the charges against him are politically motivated, but the trial could bring further uncertainty and a potential constitutional crisis.

On the international front, Lee faces the challenge of repairing relations with the USA. The White House made a bizarre comment hinting at Chinese election interference, apparently picking up on far-right disinformation and attempts by the defeated candidates to paint Lee as a China sympathiser.

Relations with North Korea will present perhaps the biggest foreign policy challenge. DPK politicians typically focus on dialogue and bridge-building, and Lee promises to resume the cross-border dialogue that halted under Yoon.

While anything that promotes peace is welcome, civil society that campaigns on North Korea’s dire human rights situation and works with defectors will be on the lookout for potential restrictions. Under the last DPK government from 2017 to 2022, relations with North Korea thawed but civil society groups working on North Korean issues experienced heightened pressure. The government tried to ban the practice of activists using balloons to send humanitarian supplies and propaganda across the border. Civil society will be hoping the new administration doesn’t follow suit.

Time to build bridges

Lee can expect to face little short-term political opposition. Yoon’s actions have left the PPP in disarray and the next parliamentary election isn’t due until 2028. But Lee’s honeymoon isn’t likely to last long. Economic anger could drive more people to embrace regressive politics. In globally tough times, Lee will need to both offer political stability and deliver meaningful economic success.

That’s a difficult task, but there’s a key asset that can help. South Koreans have demonstrated they value democracy. South Korea’s civil society is active and strong. The new administration should commit to working with and nurturing this civic energy.

South Korea’s December resistance proved what people won’t tolerate. Now comes the harder task of building what many will embrace: a more stable, equitable democracy.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, May 22 2025 (IPS)

The new pope, the latest in a line dating back almost 2,000 years, was quickly subjected to a very modern phenomenon: no sooner had Pope Leo XIV delivered his first address than people started trawling his social media history for clues about his views. In the context of an ongoing culture war, the fact that far-right grievance entrepreneurs were quick to decry the new pope as ‘woke’ seemed reason enough for progressives to welcome him. But for civil society and the global human rights community, it’s how Leo acts that matters.

The numbers alone make Leo’s appointment an event of global significance: Catholics make up over 17 per cent of the planet’s population, and they live predominantly in the global south. Catholicism remains overwhelmingly the dominant religion in Latin America, while the faith continues to grow, particularly in Africa.

This gives the pope great moral influence, which he can use for good – such as by urging climate action and mobilising compassion for migrants and refugees – or for ill, including by maintaining restrictions on women’s and LGBTQI+ rights. The pope is unquestionably a global leader. In an era dominated by right-wing populist and nationalist politicians who are attacking human rights, the pope’s voice can offer a vital counterweight.

Pope Francis’s progressive legacy

Pope Francis broke significant new ground. The first Latin American pope, the Argentinian lived modestly. He didn’t shy away from controversy, speaking out to defend the rights of migrants and refugees. He criticised right-wing populism, neoliberal economics and Israel’s assault on Gaza. He urged action on climate change and made moves to enable women to play a greater role in the church and open up the possibility of blessing for people in same-sex relationships.

ON his watch, the papal office became that of an international diplomat, helping negotiate a Cuba-US rapprochement, later reversed. Critics however pointed to his apparent reluctance to call out Vladimir Putin’s aggression as he sought to help negotiate peace between Russia and Ukraine. He also maintained the church’s opposition to ‘gender ideology’, a term routinely used to undermine demands for women’s and LGBTQI+ rights, particularly trans rights.

Though Francis took many progressive positions, that offered no guarantee his successor would follow suit. Historically a pope seen as liberal is often followed by a more conservative one. Francis however moved to make this less likely, appointing 163 cardinals from 76 countries. Many were from global south countries, including several that had never received such recognition, such as El Salvador, Mali and Timor-Leste. He appointed the first Indigenous Latin American cardinal, and the first from India’s excluded Dalit community.

Francis chose 79 per cent of cardinals aged under 80, eligible to vote on the new pope – including Leo, elevated in 2023. For the first time, the conclave had a non-European majority, with Europeans comprising only 52 of the 133 electors.

Francis’s re-engineering may have foreclosed the prospect of a particularly regressive choice. The result was another piece of history, with Leo the first pope from the USA, while his dual citizenship of Peru makes him the first Peruvian one as well. Known as an ally of Francis but a less outspoken figure, he may have emerged as a compromise choice.

Early days: promise and controversy

Leo’s nationality had been assumed to count against him: with the USA being the dominant global power, received wisdom held that the pope should come from elsewhere. In this Trump-dominated era, it’s hard to avoid the feeling that some who picked a US pope were trying to send a message – although time will tell whether it’s one of flattery or defiance.

US right-wingers, many of whom embrace conservative Catholicism – as Vice President JD Vance exemplifies – made clear they knew what the message was, reacting with anger. Another conservative Catholic, Trump’s former strategist Steve Bannon – who routinely vilified Pope Francis – had aggressively lobbied for a conservative appointment, such as Hungarian hardliner Péter Erdő. Trump supporters allegedly promised huge donations if the conclave selected a pope to their liking, then quickly mobilised outrage about the selection of their fellow citizen, vilifying him as a ‘Marxist pope’.

Among the pre-papacy actions they deemed controversial was Leo’s sharing on Twitter/X of a link to a comment piece that disagreed with Vance, who’d argued that Christians should prioritise their love for their immediate community over those who come from elsewhere. Leo had also shared a post criticising Trump and El Salvador’s hardline leader Nayib Bukele over the illegal deportation of migrant Kilmar Abrego Garcia.

In other past posts, he’d supported climate action and appeared to back gun control, defended undocumented migrants and shown solidarity with George Floyd, the Black man whose murder by a police officer in 2020 triggered the resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement. Leo’s choice of name also appears to indicate a reformist intent. But on the other side of the ledger, a history of anti-LGBTQI+ comments quickly came to light. Leo is also accused of mishandling past sexual abuse allegations against priests under his supervision.

A moral voice in turbulent times

For civil society, what Leo does next matters more than his social media history. There are some encouraging early signs. Leo has signalled a more sympathetic approach to Ukraine and called for the release of jailed journalists.

The likelihood, if Leo’s career so far is anything to go by, is that he’ll be less outspoken than his predecessor, and more inclined towards negotiation and compromise. But the papacy offers a very different platform to that of a cardinal. Leo should take account of the fact that he’s assumed office at a time of enormous conflict, polarisation and turmoil, where many of the established assumptions about how politics and governance should be conducted are being torn up, and when global institutions and the idea of a rules-based order are coming under unprecedented strain. There’s a moral leadership vacuum in the world right now. He should help fill it.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Apr 15 2025 (IPS)

The recent US court case that ordered three Greenpeace organisations to pay damages of over US$660 million to an oil and gas company was a stunning blow against civil society’s efforts to stop runaway climate change and environmental degradation. The verdict, following a trial independent witnesses assessed to be grossly unfair, came in reaction to Indigenous-led anti-pipeline protests. It’s vital for any prospects of tackling the climate crisis that Greenpeace’s appeal succeeds, because without civil society pressure, there’s simply no hope of governments and corporations taking the action required.

Civil society is more used to winning climate and environmental court cases than losing them. As CIVICUS’s 2025 State of Civil Society Report outlines, litigation has become a vital part of civil society’s strategy. Just last year, a group of Swiss women won a groundbreaking precedent in the European Court of Human Rights, which ruled the government was violating their rights by failing to cut greenhouse gas emissions. South Korea’s Constitutional Court found that the lack of emissions reduction targets breached young people’s constitutional rights. Other positive judgments came in countries including Ecuador, India and Italy. At the last count, climate lawsuits had been filed in 55 countries.

But fossil fuel companies have noticed civil society’s litigation successes and are also taking to the courts. They have the deep pockets needed to hire expensive lawyers and sustain legal actions over many draining years. Fossil fuel companies have filed over 150 lawsuits intended to silence criticism in the USA alone since 2012.

Protest restrictions

Civil society is doing all it can to demand climate action that matches the scale of the crisis, winning victories by combining tactics such as street protest, non-violent direct action and litigation, but it’s coming under attack. Peaceful protesters are being jailed and activists are facing violence in many countries. Alongside the chilling effect on protests of lawsuits such as the one against Greenpeace, governments in several countries are criminalising legitimate forms of protest. Globally, climate activists and defenders of environmental, land and Indigenous rights are among the groups most targeted for repression.

Security force violence and mass arrests and detentions, particularly of protesters, are in danger of becoming normalised. Last year in the Netherlands, authorities detained thousands for taking part in mass roadblock protests demanding the government keep its promise of ending fossil fuel subsidies. In France, police used violence at a protest against road construction in June and banned another in August. In Australia, activists opposing a huge coal terminal and a gas project were among those arrested in 2024.

In Uganda, campaigners against the East African Crude Oil Pipeline continue to face state repression. Last year, authorities arbitrarily arrested 11 activists from the campaign. These activists have faced intimidation and pressure to stop their activism.

Campaigners from Cambodia’s Mother Nature group paid a heavy price for their work in trying to stand up to powerful economic and political interests seeking to exploit the environment. Last July, 10 young activists were given long jail sentences after documenting river pollution.

Some states, like the UK, have rewritten protest laws to expand the range of offences, increase sentences and strengthen police powers. Last July, five Just Stop Oil activists were handed brutally long sentences of up to five years for planning a roadblock protest. The UK now arrests environmental protesters at three times the global average rate.

Italy’s right-wing government is introducing new restrictions. Last year, parliament passed a law on what it calls ‘eco-vandals’ in response to high-profile awareness-raising stunts at monuments and cultural sites. Another repressive law is being introduced that will allow sentences of up to two years for roadblock protests.

The struggle continues

Yet civil society will keep striving for action, which is more urgent than ever. 2024 was the hottest year on record, and it was crammed with extreme weather events, made more likely and frequent by climate change. Far too little is being done.

Fossil fuel companies continue their deadly trade. Global north governments, historically the biggest greenhouse gas emitters, are watering down plans as right-wing politicians gain sway. International commitments such as the Paris Agreement show ambition on paper, but not enough is achieved when states come together at summits such as last December’s COP29 climate conference.

There’s a huge funding gap between what’s needed to enable countries to transition to low-carbon economies and adapt to climate change. Global south countries want the most powerful economies, which have benefited from the industries that have caused the bulk of climate change, to pay their share. But of an estimated annual US$1.3 trillion needed, the most global north states agreed to at COP29 was US$3 billion a year.

Nor are fossil fuel companies paying their share. Over the past five decades the oil and gas sector has made profits averaging US$2.8 billion a day. Yet companies are currently scaling back renewable energy investments and planning still more extraction, while using their deep pockets to lobby against measures to rein them in. Making the global tax rules fairer and more effective would help too: US$492 billion a year could be recovered by closing offshore tax loopholes, while taxes on the excessive wealth of the super-rich could unlock US$2.1 trillion a year, more than enough to tackle the climate crisis.

Civil society will keep pushing, because every fraction of a degree in temperature rises matters to millions. Change is not only necessary, but possible. For example, following extensive civil society advocacy, last September the UK shut down its last coal-fired power station.

Civil society played a major role in campaigning for the EU’s Corporate Sustainability Due Diligence Directive, which requires large companies to align with the Paris Agreement. And last December, the International Court of Justice began hearing a case brought by a group of Pacific Island states, seeking an advisory opinion on what states are required to do to address climate change and help countries suffering its worst impacts. This landmark case originated with civil society, when student groups urged national leaders to take the issue to the court.

Trump’s return to the White House has made the road ahead much rockier. The world’s biggest historical emitter and largest current fossil fuel extractor has again given notice of its withdrawal from the Paris Agreement, torn up renewable energy policies and made it easier to drill for fossil fuels. In response, other high-emitting nations must step up and show genuine climate leadership. They should start by committing to respecting the right of civil society to hold them to account. States and companies must cease their attacks on climate and environmental activists and instead partner with them to respond to the climate emergency.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Apr 2 2025 (IPS)

Today’s multiple and connected crises – including conflicts, climate breakdown and democratic regression – are overwhelming the capabilities of the international institutions designed to address problems states can’t or won’t solve. Now US withdrawal from global bodies threatens to worsen a crisis in international cooperation.

The second Trump administration quickly announced its withdrawal from the Paris Agreement and the World Health Organization (WHO), terminated its cooperation with the UN Human Rights Council, walked out of negotiations on a global tax treaty and imposed sanctions on International Criminal Court officials.

Although the USA has sometimes been an obstructive force, including by repeatedly blocking Security Council resolutions on Israel, global institutions lose legitimacy when powerful states opt out. While all states are formally equal in the UN, the reality is that the USA’s decisions to participate or quit matter more than most because it’s a superpower whose actions have global implications. It’s also the biggest funder of UN institutions, even if it has a poor record in paying on time.

As it stands, the USA’s WHO withdrawal will take effect in January 2026, although the decision could face a legal challenge and Trump could rescind his decision if the WHO makes changes to his liking, since deal-making powered by threats and brinkmanship is how he does business. But if withdrawal happens, the WHO will be hard hit. The US government is the WHO’s biggest contributor, providing around 18 per cent of funding. That’s a huge gap to fill, and it’s likely the organisation will have to cut back its work. Progress towards a global pandemic treaty, under negotiation since 2021, may be hindered.

It’s possible philanthropic sources will step up their support, and other states may help fill the gap. The challenge comes if authoritarian states take advantage of the situation by increasing their contributions and expect greater influence in return. China, for example, may be poised to do so.

That’s what happened when the first Trump administration pulled out of the UN Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO). China filled the vacuum by increasing its contributions to become UNESCO’s biggest annual funder. Presumably not coincidentally, a Chinese official became its deputy head, while China was able to block Taiwan’s attempts to join. It was out of concern about this growing influence that the Biden administration took the USA back into UNESCO in 2023; that decision could now be reversed, as Trump has claimed UNESCO is biased against the USA and ordered a review.

The Human Rights Council may be less immediately affected because the USA isn’t currently a member, its term having ended at the close of 2024. It rejoined in 2021 after Trump pulled out in 2018, and had already made the unusual decision not to seek a second term, likely because this would have provoked a backlash over its support for Israel. Apart from its relationship with Israel, however, during its term under the Biden administration the USA was largely recognised as playing a positive role in the Council’s business. If it refuses to cooperate, it deprives US citizens of a vital avenue of redress.

The USA’s actions may also inspire other states with extremist leaders to follow suit. Argentina’s President Javier Milei, a keen Trump admirer, has imitated him by announcing his country’s departure from the WHO. Political leaders in Hungary and Italy have discussed doing the same. Israel followed the USA in declaring it wouldn’t engage with the Human Rights Council. For its own reasons, in February authoritarian Nicaragua also announced its withdrawal from the Council following a report critical of its appalling human rights record.

It could be argued that institutions like the Human Rights Council and UNESCO, having survived one Trump withdrawal, can endure a second. But these shocks come at a different time, when the UN system is already more fragile and damaged. Now the very idea of multilateralism and a rules-based international order is under attack, with transactional politics and hard-nosed national power calculations on the rise. Backroom deals resulting from power games are replacing processes with a degree of transparency aimed at achieving consensus. The space for civil society engagement and opportunities for leverage are in danger of shrinking accordingly.

Real reform needed

Revitalising the UN may seem a tall order when it’s under attack, but as CIVICUS’s 2025 State of Civil Society Report outlines, civil society has ideas about how to save the UN by putting people at its heart. The UNMute Civil Society initiative, backed by over 300 organisations and numerous states, makes five calls to improve civil society’s involvement: using digital technologies to broaden participation, bridging digital divides by focusing on connectivity for the most excluded, changing procedures and practices to ensure effective and meaningful participation, creating an annual civil society action day as an opportunity to assess progress on civil society participation and appointing a UN civil society envoy.

Each of these ideas is practical and could open up space for greater reforms. A UN civil society envoy could, for example, promote best practices in civil society participation across the UN and ensure a diverse range of civil society is involved in the UN’s work.

Civil society is also calling for competitive Human Rights Council elections, with a civil society role in scrutinising candidates, and limits on Security Council veto powers. And as time approaches to pick a new UN Secretary-General, civil society is mobilising the 1 for 8 billion campaign, pushing for an open, transparent, inclusive and merit-based selection process. The office has always been held by a man, and the call is for the UN to make history by appointing a feminist woman leader.

These would all offer small steps towards making the UN system more open, democratic and accountable. There’s nothing impossible or unimaginable about these ideas, and times of crisis create opportunities to experiment. States that want to reverse the tide of attacks on international cooperation and revitalise the UN should work with civil society to take them forward.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org.

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By Inés M. Pousadela and Andrew Firmin
MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay / LONDON, Mar 20 2025 (IPS)

In a world of overlapping crises, from brutal conflicts and democratic regression to climate breakdown and astronomic levels of economic inequality, one vital force stands as a shield and solution: civil society. This is the sobering but ultimately hopeful message of CIVICUS’s 14th annual State of Civil Society Report, which provides a wide-ranging civil society perspective on the state of the world as it stands in early 2025.

The report paints an unflinching portrait of today’s reality: one where civilians are being slaughtered in Gaza, Sudan, Ukraine and elsewhere, with perpetrators increasingly confident they’ll face no consequences. A global realignment appears underway, with the Trump administration dismantling longstanding international alliances and seemingly determined to reward acts of aggression. Any semblance of a rules-based international order is crumbling as transactional diplomacy and the dangerous principle that might makes right become normalised.

Climate change continues to accelerate. 2024 was the hottest year on record, yet fossil fuel companies keep banking record profits, even as they scale back renewable energy plans in favour of further extraction. The world’s economies are reaching new levels of dysfunction, marked by soaring inequality and worsening precarity, while billionaires accumulate unprecedented wealth. Tech and media tycoons are no longer content just to influence policy; increasingly they want to control politics, raising the risk of state capture by oligarchs. Democracy is under siege, with right-wing populism, nationalism and autocratic rule surging. Democratic dissent is being crushed.

These compounding crises create a perfect storm that threatens the foundations of human rights and democratic freedoms. But in this precarious moment, precisely when civil society is needed most, it faces an accelerating funding crisis. Major donor agencies have cut back support and aligned funding with narrow national interests, while many states have passed laws to restrict international funding for civil society. The malicious and reckless USAID funding freeze has come as a particularly heavy blow, placing many civil society groups at existential risk.

At times like these it’s worth thinking about what the world would look like without civil society. Human rights violations would flourish unchecked. Democracy would erode even faster, leaving people with no meaningful agency to shape decisions affecting their lives. Climate change would accelerate past every tipping point. Women would lose bodily autonomy. LGBTQI+ people would be forced back into the closet. Excluded minorities would routinely face violence with no recourse. Whole communities would live in fear.

As events during 2024 and early 2025 have shown, even under extraordinary pressure, civil society continues to prove its immense value. In conflict zones, grassroots groups are filling critical gaps in humanitarian response, documenting violations and advocating for civilian protection. In numerous countries, civil society has successfully mobilised to prevent democratic backsliding, ensure fair elections and challenge authoritarian power grabs.

Through strategic litigation, civil society has established groundbreaking legal precedents forcing governments to take more ambitious climate action. Struggles for gender equality and LGBTQI+ rights keep being won through persistent advocacy, despite intensifying backlash. Across diverse contexts, civil society has employed a wide range of ever-evolving and creative tactics – from mass mobilisation to legal action – and proved it can and will hold the line even as civic space restrictions intensify and funding is slashed.

The message is clear: civil society represents a vital source of resistance, resilience and hope. Without it, many more people would be living much worse lives.

But if civil society is to keep doing this vital work, it may need to reinvent itself. The funding crisis demands innovation, because even before the USAID catastrophe, the donor-reliant model had reached its limits. It has long been criticised for reproducing economic and political power imbalances while constraining civil society’s ability to confront entrenched power. More diverse and sustainable resourcing models are urgently needed, from community-based funding approaches to ethical enterprise activities that generate unrestricted income.

To thrive in this changing and volatile context, civil society will have to embrace a movement mindset characterised by distributed leadership, nimble decision-making and the ability to mobilise broad constituencies rapidly. Some of the most successful civil society actions in recent years have shown these qualities, from youth-led climate movements to horizontally organised feminist campaigns that connect people across class, race and geographic barriers.

Civil society must prioritise authentic community connections, particularly with those most excluded from power. This means going beyond traditional consultations to develop genuine relationships with communities, including those outside urban centres or disadvantaged by digital divides. The strength of the relationships civil society can nurture should be one key measure of success.

Equally crucial is the development of compelling narratives, and infrastructure to help share them, that speak to people’s legitimate anxieties while offering inclusive, rights-based alternatives to the widely spread and seductive but dangerous appeals of populism and authoritarianism. These narratives must connect universal values to local contexts and concerns.

In this current cascade of global crises, civil society can no longer hope for a return to business as usual. A more movement-oriented, community-driven and financially independent civil society will be better equipped to withstand threats and more effectively realise its collective mission of building a more just, equal, democratic and sustainable world.

The 2025 State of Civil Society Report offers both a warning and a call to action for all concerned about the shape of today’s world. Civil society represents humanity’s best hope for navigating the treacherous waters ahead. In these dark times, civil society remains a beacon of light. It must continue to shine.

Inés M. Pousadela is Senior Research Specialist and Andrew Firmin is Editor-in-Chief at CIVICUS: World Alliance for Citizen Participation. They are co-directors and writers for CIVICUS Lens and co-authors of the State of Civil Society Report.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Feb 7 2025 (IPS)

Alexander Lukashenko will soon begin his seventh term as president of Belarus. The official result of the 26 January election gave him 86.8 per cent of the vote, following an election held in a climate of fear. Only token opposition candidates were allowed, most of who came out in support of Lukashenko. Anyone who might have offered a credible challenge is in jail or in exile.

No repeat of 2020

In office since 1994 as the so far only president of independent Belarus, Lukashenko is by far Europe’s longest-serving head of state. The 1994 vote that brought the former Soviet official to power was the country’s only legitimate election. Each since has been designed to favour Lukashenko.

He only faced a serious threat in 2020, when an outsider candidate, Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya, was able to run a campaign that captured the popular imagination. Lukashenko’s response was to arrest opponents, repress protests, restrict the internet, deny access for electoral observers and then blatantly steal the election.

When people took to the street in mass protests against electoral fraud, Belarus seemed on the brink of a democratic revolution. But Lukashenko’s government launched a brutal defence, using security forces to violently attack protesters and arresting over a thousand people. It dissolved opposition political parties and raided and shut down civil society organisations: over a thousand have been forcibly liquidated since 2020.

Lukashenko’s regime has gone after those in exile, kidnapping and allegedly killing Belarusians abroad. Belarus is among the 10 states most engaged in transnational repression. They authorities have also deprived the estimated 300,000 people who’ve fled since 2020 of their ability to vote.

By embracing repression, Lukashenko made a choice to abandon his policy of balancing between the European Union (EU) and Russia. When the EU imposed sanctions in response to the 2020 election fraud, Russia offered a package of loans. In 2022, when Russia launched its full-scale assault on Ukraine, some of its forces entered Ukraine from Belarus.

Shortly after Russia began its full-scale invasion, a constitutional referendum held in Belarus, marked by the same lack of democracy as its elections, formally ended the country’s neutrality and non-nuclear status. In December 2024, the two states signed a security treaty allowing the use of Russian nuclear weapons in the event of aggression against Belarus, and Lukashenko confirmed that the country hosts dozens of Russian nuclear warheads.

Belarus has also been accused of instrumentalising migrants to try to destabilise neighbouring countries. In 2021, it relaxed its visa rules for people from Middle Eastern and North African countries and encouraged flights to Belarus. Thousands were taken to the borders with Lithuania and Poland and left to try to cross them in desperate conditions, freezing and without essentials, subjected to security force violence on both sides. Migrants were unwitting pawns in Lukashenko’s game to strike back at his neighbours. Attempted crossings and human rights violations have continued since.

Renewed crackdown

Just to be on the safe side, Lukashenko launched another crackdown in the months leading up to the election. The intent was clearly to ensure there’d be no repeat of the expression of opposition and protests of 2020.

Starting in July 2024, Lukashenko pardoned around 250 political prisoners, releasing them from jail. His likely aim was to soften international criticism in the run-up to the vote. But these weren’t the high-profile prisoners serving long sentences, such as Nobel Peace Prize winner Ales Bialiatski, a founder of the Viasna Human Rights Centre, who received a 10-year sentence in 2023, or protest leader Maria Kolesnikova, sentenced to 11 years in 2021. Those pardoned had to publicly acknowledge their guilt and repent.

The freed jail spaces were quickly filled, with over a hundred friends and relatives of political prisoners detained. In February 2024, authorities detained at least 12 lawyers who’d defended political prisoners. In December, they arrested seven independent journalists. Belarus has the world’s fourth highest number of jailed journalists.

People have been jailed merely for following Telegram channels deemed ‘extremist’ or making social media comments. Over 1,700 people reportedly faced charges for political activities in 2024. Prison conditions are harsh. People may be forced to do hard labour, kept in solitary confinement, sent to freezing punishment cells, denied access to their families and have medical care withheld.

On election day, Lukashenko’s dictatorial style was on full display. He held a press conference where he promised to ‘deal with’ opposition activists in exile and said they were endangering their families in Belarus, adding that some opponents ‘chose’ to go to prison. He also didn’t rule out the prospect of running for an eighth term in 2030.

Time for change

Lukashenko promises more of the same: continuing autocracy and closed civic space. For generations of Belarusians who’ve known nothing but his rule, and with opposition voices so ruthlessly suppressed, it may be hard to imagine anything else. The possibilities opened up in 2020 have been ruthlessly shut down.

But the wheels of history will keep turning, and the 70-year-old dictator won’t last forever. Some kind of cessation of hostilities in Ukraine may well come this year, forcing Lukashenko to make friends beyond Vladimir Putin. If Russia winds down its booming war economy, the ensuing economic shock in Belarus, which largely depends on Russia, could trigger public anger.

Meanwhile, potentially increased scrutiny could come from the International Criminal Court: in September 2024, the government of Lithuania requested an investigation into crimes against humanity allegedly committed by Belarusian authorities. If this move gains momentum, Lukashenko could find himself in an uncomfortable spotlight. States could also intensify sanctions: Canada and the UK have done so following the election.

If Belarus attempts to reengage with them, democratic states should insist that no thaw in relations is possible without tangible human rights progress . This should start with the release of all political prisoners, guarantees for the safety of exiled activists and a reversal of attacks on civic space.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Jan 27 2025 (IPS)

Kenya’s young protesters are paying a high price for speaking out. Last June, a protest movement led by first-time activists from Generation Z emerged in response to the government’s Finance Bill, which would have introduced sweeping tax increases. The government quickly withdrew its plans, but protests continued, articulating anger at economic strife, elite corruption and out-of-touch politicians. The government’s response has been violent. Police have used batons, teargas and water cannon against protesters. On the worst day of violence, 25 June, when some protesters attempted to storm parliament, police fired live ammunition. Over 60 people were reported killed during the protests. At least 1,200 were reportedly arrested.

Since then, there’s been a wave of abductions of young activists. At least 82 people have reportedly been abducted by armed plainclothes groups since June. Some were taken ahead of major planned protests. More than six months after the protests began, abductions continue. While most have been released, as many as 20 people are still thought missing.

On 6 January, five young men who’d been abducted the previous month were found. Among them was Kibet Bull, known for his satirical cartoons. One of the five reported being whipped and beaten. Several others abductees describe traumatic experiences in detention, although there’s a chilling effect: many of those who’ve been released have decided not to speak out about their experiences.

Security forces deny any involvement. But a government minister, Public Service Cabinet Secretary Justin Muturi, recently claimed that Kenya’s National Intelligence Service was responsible for the abduction of his son, Leslie Muturi. He was only released after President William Ruto intervened.

Ruto, whose resignation was demanded by protesters, promised on 27 December that the abductions would stop. But at the same time, he seemed unwilling to listen to activists’ demands, blaming parents for not raising their children properly and telling young people not to disrespect leaders on social media.

Now people are protesting to demand the release of the abductees and accountability for those responsible. These protests, like those before them, have been met with police violence. On 27 December, police responded to a protest calling for the release of six people with teargas and arrests. The authorities charged protesters with unlawful assembly and incitement to violence.

Protests against the abductions have continued in the capital, Nairobi, and elsewhere, as have protesters’ arrests.

In another disturbing development, youth activist Richard Otieno was attacked by three unidentified people and killed in the town of Elburgon on 18 January. He was known in the community for criticising the government and the local member of parliament, and had been arrested for taking part in the 2024 protests. His murder sparked local protests.

Police repression

Violent repression of protests has long been a problem in Kenya. In June 2023, six people died in opposition-organised protests against taxes and the high cost of living. More people were killed during the protests in June 2024, and when protesters gathered in Nairobi in October to hold a vigil for them, police lobbed teargas canisters and arrested several activists who tried to enter the park where the protest was taking place. Police also used violence against anti-femicide protests in November and December 2024.

But the current wave of abductions is a troubling further level of repression. It suggests that those in power have been seriously rattled by the emergence of a new generation of protesters and their demands, and by their persistence in the face of police violence, and are stepping up their tactics accordingly.

As well as routinely using violence against protesters, police are accused of complicity in abductions. Even if they don’t directly commit them, they’re accused of standing by and allowing them to happen, and failing to investigate them and bring justice to the victims. Few cases have been solved. As a result, the rule of law is being called into question.

Kenya is on a dangerous trajectory. As a result of the brutal crackdown on protests, in December the country’s civic space rating was downgraded to ‘repressed’, the second worst rating, on the CIVICUS Monitor, our collaborative research initiative that tracks the health of civic freedoms around the world.

Demand for change

Abductions may subdue some people who’ve found themselves at the sharp end of state violence. But they could also backfire. People who’ve argued that politicians and the state can’t be trusted are being vindicated. The result will be a further loss of trust in public institutions.

Young Kenyans have found their voice, proving their willingness to speak out, organise and demand an end to self-serving and corrupt politics. The protests were marked by creativity, full use of social media and unity across usually divisive ethnic lines. They helped inspire similar protests in several other African countries, including Nigeria and Uganda, creating a rare feeling of shared confidence that change could come. Those hopes haven’t been entirely subdued. The abductions may have silenced individuals, but the collective appetite for change hasn’t gone away.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org.

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It’s been a tumultuous year, and a tough one for struggles for human rights. Civil society’s work to seek social justice and hold the powerful to account has been tested at every turn. Civil society has kept holding the line, resisting power grabs and regressive legislation, calling out injustice and claiming some victories, often at great cost. And things aren’t about to get any easier, as key challenges identified in 2024 are likely to intensify in 2025.

Andrew Firmin

As recent events in Lebanon and Syria have shown, changing dynamics, including shifting calculations made by countries such as Iran, Israel, Russia, Turkey and the USA, mean that frozen conflicts could reignite and new ones could erupt. As in Syria, these shifts could create sudden moments of opportunity; the international community and civil society must respond quickly when these come.

Inés M. Pousadela

3. 2025 is the year that states are required to develop new plans to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and adapt to climate change under the Paris Agreement. The process will culminate in the COP30 climate summit in Brazil, likely the world’s last chance to limit the global temperature rise to 1.5 degrees above preindustrial levels. This will only happen if states stand up to fossil fuel companies and look beyond narrow short-term interests. Failing that, more of the debate may come to focus on adaptation. The unresolved question of who will pay for climate transition will remain central. Meanwhile, extreme weather events such as heatwaves and floods can be expected to continue to devastate communities, impose high economic costs, drive migration and exacerbate conflicts.

4. Globally, economic dysfunction is likely to increase, with more people struggling to afford basic necessities, increasingly including housing, as prices continue to rise, with climate change and conflict among the causes. The gap between the struggling many and the ultra-wealthy few will become more visible, and anger at rising prices or taxes will drive people – particularly young people deprived of opportunities – onto the streets. State repression will often follow. Frustration with the status quo means people will keep looking for political alternatives, a situation right-wing populists and nationalists will keep exploiting. But demands for labour rights, particularly among younger workers, will also likely increase, along with pressure for policies such as wealth taxes, a universal basic income and a shorter working week.

5. A year when the largest number of people ever went to the polls has ended – but there are still plenty of elections to come. Where elections are free and fair, voters are likely to keep rejecting incumbents, particularly due to economic hardship. Right-wing populists and nationalists are likely to benefit the most, but the tide will eventually turn: once they’ve been around long enough to be perceived as part of the political establishment, they too will see their positions threatened, and they can be expected to respond with authoritarianism, repression and the scapegoating of excluded groups. More politically manipulated misogyny, homophobia, transphobia and anti-migrant rhetoric can be expected as a result.

6. Even if developments in generative AI slow as the current model reaches the limits of the human-generated material it feeds on, international regulation and data protection will likely continue to lag behind. The use of AI-enabled surveillance, such as facial recognition, against activists is likely to increase and become more normalised. The challenge of disinformation is likely to intensify, particularly around conflicts and elections.

Several tech leaders have actively taken the side of right-wing populists and authoritarians, putting their platforms and wealth at the service of their political ambitions. Emerging alternative social media platforms offer some promise but are likely to face similar problems as they grow.

7. Climate change, conflict, economic strife, repression of LGBTQI+ identities and civil and political repression will continue to drive displacement and migration. Most migrants will remain in difficult and underfunded conditions in global south countries. In the global north, right-wing shifts are expected to drive more restrictive and repressive policies, including the deportation of migrants to countries where they may be at risk. Attacks on civil society working to defend their rights, including by assisting at sea and land borders, are also likely to intensify.

8. The backlash against women’s and LGBTQI+ rights will continue. The US right wing will continue to fund anti-rights movements in the global south, notably in Commonwealth African countries, while European conservative groups will continue to export their anti-rights campaigns, as some Spanish organisations have long done throughout Latin America. Disinformation efforts from multiple sources, including Russian state media, will continue to influence public opinion. This will leave civil society largely on the defensive, focused on consolidating gains and preventing setbacks.

9. As a result of these trends, the ability of civil society organisations and activists to operate freely will remain under pressure in the majority of countries. Just when its work is most needed, civil society will face growing restrictions on fundamental civic freedoms, including in the form of anti-NGO laws and laws that label civil society as agents of foreign powers, the criminalisation of protests and increasing threats to the safety of activists and journalists. Civil society will have to devote more of its resources to protecting its space, at the expense of the resources available to promote and advance rights.

10. Despite these many challenges, civil society will continue to strive on all fronts. It will continue to combine advocacy, protests, online campaigns, strategic litigation and international diplomacy. As awareness grows of the interconnected and transnational nature of the challenges, it will emphasise solidarity actions that transcend national boundaries and make connections between different struggles in different contexts.

Even in difficult circumstances, civil society achieved some notable victories in 2024. In the Czech Republic, civil society’s efforts led to a landmark reform of rape laws, and in Poland they resulted in a law making emergency contraception available without prescription, overturning previous restrictive legislation. After extensive civil society advocacy, Thailand led the way in Southeast Asia by passing a marriage equality law, while Greece became the first predominantly Christian Orthodox country to legalise same-sex marriage

People defended democracy. In South Korea, people took to the streets in large numbers to resist martial law, while in Bangladesh, protest action led to the ousting of a longstanding authoritarian government. In Guatemala, a president committed to fighting corruption was sworn in after civil society organised mass protests to demand that powerful elites respect the election results, and in Venezuela, hundreds of thousands organised to defend the integrity of the election, defeated the authoritarian government in the polls and took to the streets in the face of severe repression when the results weren’t recognised. In Senegal, civil society mobilised to prevent an attempt to postpone an election that resulted in an opposition win.

Civil society won victories in climate and environmental litigation – including in Ecuador, India and Switzerland – to force governments to recognise the human rights impacts of climate change and do more to reduce emissions and curb pollution. Civil society also took to the courts to pressure governments to stop arms sales to Israel, with a successful verdict in the Netherlands and others pending.

In 2025, the struggle continues. Civil society will keep carrying the torch of hope that a more peaceful, just, equal and sustainable world is possible. This idea will remain as important as the tangible impact we’ll continue to achieve despite the difficult circumstances.

Andrew Firmin is Editor-in-Chief and Inés M. Pousadela is Senior Research Specialist at CIVICUS: World Alliance for Citizen Participation. The two are co-directors and writers for CIVICUS Lens and co-authors of the State of Civil Society Report.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Dec 20 2024 (IPS)

Democracy is alive and well in South Korea. When President Yoon Suk Yeol tried to impose martial law, the public and parliamentarians united to defend it. Now Yoon must face justice for his power grab.

President under pressure

Yoon narrowly won the presidency in an incredibly tight contest in March 2022, beating rival candidate Lee Jae-myung by a 0.73 per cent margin. That marked a political comeback for one of South Korea’s two main political parties, the rebranded centre-right People Power Party, and a defeat for the other, the more progressive Democratic Party.

In a divisive campaign, Yoon capitalised on and helped inflame a backlash among many young men against the country’s emerging feminist movement.

South Korea had a MeToo moment in 2018, as women started to speak out following high-profile sexual harassment revelations. South Korea is one of the worst performing members on gender equality of the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development: it ranks third lowest for women’s political representation and last for its gender pay gap.

Some modest steps forward in women’s rights brought a disproportionate backlash. Groups styling themselves as defending men’s rights sprang up, their members claiming they were discriminated against in the job market. Yoon played squarely to this crowd, pledging to abolish the gender equality ministry. Exit polls showed that over half of young male voters backed him.

Human rights conditions then worsened under Yoon’s rule. His administration was responsible for an array of civic space restrictions. These included harassment and criminalisation of journalists, raids on trade union offices and arrests of their leaders, and protest bans. Media freedoms deteriorated, with lawsuits and criminal defamation laws having a chilling effect.

But the balance of power shifted after the 2024 parliamentary election, when the People Power Party suffered a heavy defeat. Although the Democratic Party and its allies fell short of the two-thirds majority required to impeach Yoon, the result left him a lame-duck president. The opposition-dominated parliament blocked key budget proposals and filed 22 impeachment motions against government officials.

Yoon’s popularity plummeted amid ongoing economic woes and allegations of corruption – sadly nothing new for a South Korean leader. The First Lady, Kim Keon Hee, was accused of accepting a Dior bag as a gift and of manipulating stock prices. It seems clear that Yoon, backed into a corner, lashed out and took an incredible gamble – one that South Korean people didn’t accept.

Yoon’s decision

Yoon made his extraordinary announcement on state TV on the evening of 3 December. Shamefully, he claimed the move was necessary to combat ‘pro-North Korean anti-state forces’, smearing those trying to hold him to account as supporters of the totalitarian regime across the border. Yoon ordered the army to arrest key political figures, including the leader of his party, Han Dong Hoon, Democratic Party leader Lee and National Assembly Speaker Woo Won Shik.

The declaration of martial law gives the South Korean president sweeping powers. The military can arrest, detain and punish people without a warrant, the media are placed under strict controls, all political activity is suspended and protests are widely banned.

The problem was that Yoon had clearly exceeded his powers and acted unconstitutionally. Martial law can only be declared when there are extraordinary threats to the nation’s survival, such as invasion or armed rebellion. A series of political disputes that put the president under uncomfortable scrutiny clearly didn’t fit the bill. And the National Assembly was supposed to remain in session, but Yoon tried to shut it down, deploying armed forces to try to stop representatives gathering to vote.

But Yoon hadn’t reckoned with many people’s determination not to return to the dark days of dictatorship before multiparty democracy was established in 1987. People also had recent experience of forcing out an evidently corrupt president. In the Candlelight Revolution of 2016 and 2017, mass weekly protests built pressure on President Park Guen-hye, who was impeached, removed from office and jailed for corruption and abuse of power.

People massed outside the National Assembly in protest. As the army blocked the building’s main gates, politicians climbed over the fences. Protesters and parliamentary staff faced off against heavily armed troops with fire extinguishers, forming a chain around the building so lawmakers could vote. Some 190 made it in, and they unanimously repealed Yoon’s decision.

Time for justice

Now Yoon must face justice. Protesters will continue to urge him to quit, and a criminal investigation into the decision to declare martial law has been launched.

The first attempt to impeach Yoon was thwarted by political manoeuvring. People Power politicians walked out to prevent a vote on 7 December, apparently hoping Yoon would resign instead. But he showed no sign of stepping down, and a second vote on 14 December decisively backed impeachment, with 12 People Power Party members supporting the move. The vote was greeted with scenes of jubilation from the tens of thousands of protesters massed in freezing conditions outside the National Assembly.

Yoon is now suspended, with Prime Minister Han Duck-soo the interim president. The Constitutional Court has six months to hold an impeachment process. Polls show most South Koreans back impeachment, although Yoon still claims his move was necessary.

Democracy defended

South Korea’s representative democracy, like most, has its flaws. People may not always be happy with election results. Presidents may find it hard to work with a parliament that opposes them. But imperfect though it may be, South Koreans have shown they value their democracy and will defend it from the threat of authoritarian rule – and can be expected to keep mobilising if Yoon evades justice.

Thankfully, Yoon’s attacks on civic space hadn’t got to the stage where civil society’s ability to mobilise and people’s capacity to defend democracy had been broken down. Recent events and South Korea’s uncertain future make it all the more important that the civic space restrictions imposed by Yoon’s administration are reversed as quickly as possible. To defend against backsliding and deepen democracy, it’s vital to expand civic space and invest in civil society.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Dec 2 2024 (IPS)

COP29, the latest annual climate summit, had one job: to strike a deal to provide the money needed to respond to climate change. It failed.

This was the first climate summit dedicated to finance. Global south countries estimate they need a combined US$1.3 trillion a year to transition to low-carbon economies and adapt to the impacts of climate change. But the last-minute offer made by global north states was for only US$300 billion a year.

The agreement leaves vague how much of the promised target, to be met by 2035, will be in the form of direct grants, as opposed to other means such as loans, and how much will come directly from states. As for the US$1 trillion annual funding gap, covering it remains an aspiration, with all potential sources encouraged to step up their efforts. The hope seems to be that the private sector will invest where it hasn’t already, and that innovations such as new levies and taxes will be explored, which many powerful states and industry lobbyists are sure to resist.

Some global north states are talking up the deal, pointing out that it triples the previous target of US$100 billion a year, promised at COP15 in 2009 and officially reached in 2022, although how much was provided in reality remains a matter of debate. Some say this deal is all they can afford, given economic and political constraints.

But global north states hardly engaged constructively. They delayed making an offer for so long that the day before talks were due to end, the draft text of the agreement contained no numbers. Then they made a lowball offer of US$250 billion a year.

Many representatives from global south states took this as an insult. Talks threatened to collapse without an agreement. Amid scenes of chaos and confusion, the summit’s president, Mukhtar Babayev of Azerbaijan, was accused of weakness and lack of leadership. By the time global north states offered US$300 billion, negotiations had gone past the deadline, and many saw this as a take-it-or-leave it offer.

The negotiating style of global north states spoke of a fundamental inequality in climate change. Global north countries have historically contributed the bulk of cumulative greenhouse gas emissions due to their industrialisation. But it’s global south countries that are most affected by climate change impacts such as extreme weather and rising sea levels. What’s more, they’re being asked to take a different development path to fossil fuel-powered industrialisation – but without adequate financial support to do so.

These evident injustices led some states, angered by Babayev bringing talks to an abrupt end, to believe that no deal would have been better than what was agreed. For others, waiting another year for COP30 would have been a luxury they couldn’t afford, given the ever-increasing impacts of climate change.

Financing on the agenda

Far from being settled, the conversation around climate financing should be regarded as only just having begun. The figures involved – whether it’s US$300 billion or US$1.3 trillion a year – seem huge, but in global terms they’re tiny. The US$1.3 trillion needed is less than one per cent of global GDP, which stands at around US$110 trillion. It’s a little more than the amount invested in fossil fuels this year, and far less than annual global military spending, which has risen for nine years running and now stands at around US$2.3 trillion a year.

If the money isn’t forthcoming, the sums needed will be eclipsed by the costs of cleaning up the disasters caused by climate change, and dealing with rising insecurity, conflict and economic disruption. For example, devastating floods in Valencia, Spain, in October caused at least 217 deaths and economic losses of around US$10.6 billion. Research suggests that each degree of warming would slash the world’s GDP by 12 per cent. Investing in a transition that reduces greenhouse gas emissions and enables communities to adapt isn’t just the right thing to do – it’s also the economically prudent option.

The same problems arose at another recent summit on a related issue – COP16 of the Biodiversity Convention, hosted by Colombia in October. This broke up with no agreement on how to meet the funding commitments agreed at its previous meeting. The international community, having forged agreements to address climate change and protect the environment, is stuck when it comes to finding the funding to realise them.

What’s largely missing is discussion of how wealth might be better shared for the benefit of humanity. Over the past decade, as the world has grown hotter, inequality has soared, with the world’s richest one per cent adding a further US$42 trillion to their fortunes – less than needed to adequately respond to climate change. The G20’s recent meeting said little on climate change, but leaders at least agreed that ultra-wealthy people should be properly taxed. The battle should now be on to ensure this happens – and that revenues are used to tackle climate change.

When it comes to corporations, few are richer than the fossil fuel industry. But the ‘polluter pays’ principle – that those who cause environmental damage pay to clean it up – seems missing from climate negotiations. The fossil fuel industry is the single biggest contributor to climate change, responsible for over 75 per cent of greenhouse gas emissions. It’s grown incredibly rich thanks to its destructive trade.

Over the past five decades, the oil and gas sector has made profits averaging US$2.8 billion a day. Only a small fraction of those revenues have been invested in alternatives, and oil and gas companies plan to extract more: since COP28, around US$250 billion has been committed to developing new oil and gas fields. The industry’s wealth should make it a natural target for paying to fix the mess it’s made. A proposed levy on extractions could raise US$900 billion by 2030.

Progress is needed, and fast. COP30 now has the huge task of compensating for the failings of COP29. Pressure must be kept up for adequate financing combined with concerted action to cut emissions. Next year, states are due to present their updated plans to cut emissions and adapt to climate change. Civil society will push for these to show the ambition needed – and for money to be mobilised at the scale required.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Sep 30 2024 (IPS)

Georgia’s ruling party has put LGBTQI+ people firmly in the firing line ahead of next month’s election. On 17 September, parliament gave final approval to a highly discriminatory law that empowers the authorities to censor books and films with LGBTQI+ content, stop discussion of LGBTQI+ issues in schools, ban people from flying rainbow flags and prevent Pride events. The law excludes LGBTQI+ people from adopting children, bans gender affirmation surgery and refuses to recognise same-sex marriages of Georgians conducted abroad.

Latest troubling development

Georgia’s anti-LGBTQI+ law breaches a wide range of international human rights commitments. And it’s a repeat offence: in May, a bill became law designating civil society and media groups that receive at least 20 per cent of funding from international sources as ‘pursuing the interests of a foreign power’. The ‘foreign agents’ law will enable vilification, fuel public suspicion and tie organisations up in lengthy compliance procedures.

President Salome Zourabichvili, who is independent of the ruling Georgian Dream party, vetoed the foreign agents bill, calling it a ‘Russian law’, also the view of the mass protest movement that rose up to oppose it. But presidential powers are weak, and parliament quickly reversed the veto. Zourabichvili – Georgia’s last directly elected president, with future presidents to be picked by parliament after her term ends in October – has also pledged to veto the anti-LGBTQI+ law. But a similar parliamentary override seems certain.

Georgia Dream says its anti-LGBTQI+ law, known as the law on ‘family values and the protection of minors’, is needed to defend ‘traditional moral standards’. It also said its foreign agents law was needed to stop international funders sponsoring ‘LGBT propaganda’ and fomenting revolution.

Both laws are part of a growing climate of state hostility towards civil society, in a country that once stood out as an ex-Soviet state that broadly respected civic freedoms. Last year, the European Union (EU)-Georgia Civil Society Platform – a body established as part of negotiations towards the country potentially joining the EU – criticised a sustained government smear campaign against civil society. Freedom House pointed to growing harassment and violence against journalists.

The anti-LGBTQI+ law reflects a reassertion of influence by the Georgian Orthodox Church, the country’s dominant religion, and a closer alignment with Russia. The foreign agents law imitates one introduced in Russia in 2012, which paved the way for intense repression of civil society, while Georgia’s anti-LGBTQI+ law is also strikingly similar to that passed in Russia in 2013, which has been extensively used to criminalise and silence LGBTQI+ people.

The two laws can only move the country further away from the stated goal of joining the EU. They place Georgia at a fork in the road: the government and the church clearly see it as a socially conservative country that legitimately belongs in Russia’s orbit. But others – the many people, overwhelmingly young, who’ve protested and faced state violence in return – represent a different Georgian identity: one that’s democratic, inclusive and European.

Vilification and violence

Hostility has made it harder for Georgia’s LGBTQI+ people to claim visibility. Last year, violent far-right attacks forced the cancellation of the Tbilisi Pride parade. The authorities have consistently failed to ensure the safety of participants. When people first marched on 17 May 2013, they were attacked by a mob that included members of the clergy. In 2021, extremist groups also attacked journalists covering the event, as the police stood by and did nothing.

In 2014, the year after Pride first mobilised, the Church declared 17 May – the International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia and Biphobia – to be Family Purity Day, an event marked with a public holiday. This year, Prime Minister Irakli Kobakhidze joined thousands at the Family Purity Day march in Tbilisi. In contrast, such was the level of hostility that Tbilisi Pride organisers decided to only hold virtual events. LGBTQI+ people were denied the chance to do the very thing Pride events exist for: assert visibility and normalise their public presence.

The new law reverses some recent progress civil society achieved in shifting homophobic social values, with young people particularly showing more tolerant attitudes. But now the law will have the effect similar legislation has had elsewhere: giving the green light to stigmatisation, vilification and violence. Activists have pointed to the recent murder of one of the country’s few high-profile transgender people, model Kesaria Abramidze, as a grim sign of what may come. Extremist groups can only be emboldened, confident the law is on their side when they commit acts of hatred.

The upcoming election

Georgian Dream seeks a fourth consecutive term when the country goes to the polls in October. With the opposition divided, it seems certain to come first again. But its support fell in the last election and opinion polls suggest it’s lost more votes since. Possibly worried about keeping its majority, it’s opted to vilify an already excluded group of people.

Georgian Dream may think hostility towards LGBTQI+ people and civil society groups is safer electoral territory than a more explicitly anti-western, pro-Russian stance. But its recent decisions signal how it will rule if its electoral strategy pays off: not by upholding the rights of all Georgians but by putting the interests of its socially conservative supporters first, and by tailoring policies to please Vladimir Putin.

Georgian Dream still pays lip service to the idea of joining the EU, but the party’s billionaire financier and behind-the-scenes leader Bidzina Ivanishvili recently made his position clear, accusing western countries of being part of a global conspiracy to drag Georgia into a repeat of its ill-fated 2008 war with Russia. Georgian-Russian relations have warmed since Russia launched its all-out war on Ukraine in 2022.

The EU, for its part, reacted to the foreign agents law by suspending financial aid and Georgia’s accession negotiations. It must take a firm line and make clear Georgia won’t be allowed to join until the human rights of all its people are recognised and civil society is respected.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Sep 2 2024 (IPS)

A New Zealand bill that would roll back Indigenous rights is unlikely to pass – but it’s emblematic of a growing climate of hostility from governing politicians. A recent survey shows that almost half of New Zealanders believe racial tensions have worsened under the right-wing government in power since December 2023.

The Treaty Principles Bill reinterprets the principles of the 1840 Treaty of Waitangi. New Zealand’s founding text, this agreement between the British government and Indigenous Māori chiefs established British governorship over the islands in return for recognition of Māori ownership of land and other property.

The treaty was controversial from the start: its English and Māori versions differ in crucial clauses on sovereignty. Māori people lost much of their land, suffering the same marginalisation as Indigenous people in other places settled by Europeans. As a result, Māori people live with higher levels of poverty, unemployment and crime, and lower education and health standards, than the rest of the population.

From the 1950s, Māori people began to organise and demand their treaty rights. This led to the 1975 Treaty of Waitangi Act, which defined a set of principles derived from the treaty and established the Waitangi Tribunal to determine breaches of the principles and recommend remedies.

In recent years, right-wing politicians have criticised the tribunal, claiming it’s overstepping its mandate – most recently because it held a hearing that concluded the bill breaches treaty principles.

Change in direction

The bill resulted from a coalition agreement forged after the 2023 election. The centre-right National party came first and went into government with two parties to its right: the free-market and libertarian Act party and the nationalist and populist NZ First party. Act demanded the bill as a condition of joining the coalition.

The election was unusually toxic by New Zealand standards. Candidates were subjected to racial abuse and physical violence. A group of Māori leaders complained about unusually high levels of racism. Both Act and NZ First targeted Māori rights, promising to reverse Labour’s progressive policies, including experiments in ‘co-governance’: collaborative decision-making between government and Māori representatives. Act and NZ First characterised such arrangements as conferring racial privilege on Māori people, at odds with universal human rights.

NZ First leader Winston Peters – who’s long opposed what he characterises as special treatment for Māori people despite being Māori himself – pledged to remove Māori-language names from government buildings and withdraw New Zealand’s support for the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. He’s compared co-governance to apartheid and Nazi racial theory. He’s now New Zealand’s deputy prime minister.

New Zealand, though far from Europe and North America, has shown it isn’t immune from the same right-wing populist politics that seek to blame a visible minority for all a country’s problems. In the northern hemisphere the main targets are migrants and religious minorities; in New Zealand, it’s Indigenous people.

Bonfire of policies

If the bill did succeed, it would preclude any interpretation of the treaty as a partnership between the state and Māori people. It would impose a rigid understanding that all New Zealanders have the same rights and responsibilities, inhibiting measures to expand Māori rights. And without special attention, the economic, social and political exclusion of Māori people will only worsen.

The problems go beyond the bill. In February, the government abolished the Māori Health Authority, established in 2022 to tackle health inequalities. In July, a government directive ordered Pharmac, the agency that funds medicines, to stop taking treaty principles into account when making funding decisions. This is part of a broader attack on treaty principles, which the government has pledged to remove from most legislation.

Government departments have been ordered to prioritise their English-language names and communicate primarily in English, unless they’re specifically focused on Māori people. The government has pledged to review the school curriculum – revised last year to place more emphasis on Māori people – and university affirmative action programmes. It’s ceased work on He Puapua, its strategy to implement the UN Declaration.

The government has cut funding for most of its initiatives for Māori people. In all, over a dozen changes are planned, including in environmental management, health and housing.

What’s bad for Māori people is also bad for the climate. The intimate role the environment plays in Māori culture often puts them on the frontline of combating climate change. This year a Māori activist won a ruling allowing him to take seven companies to court over their greenhouse gas emissions, based in part on their impact on places of customary, cultural and spiritual significance to Māori people..

But the new government has cut funding for many projects aimed at meeting New Zealand’s Paris Agreement commitments. It plans to double mineral exports and introduce a law to fast-track large development projects, without having to navigate environmental safeguards. The draft law contains no provisions about treaty principles. Māori people will be disproportionately affected by any weakening of environmental standards.

Out in numbers

This is all shaping up to be a huge setback for Māori rights that can only fuel and normalise racism – but campaigners aren’t taking it quietly. The threat to rights has galvanised and united Māori campaigners.

Civil society groups are taking to the courts to try to halt the changes. And people are protesting in numbers. In December, when parliament met for the first time since the election, thousands gathered outside to condemn anti-Māori policies. At the swearing-in ceremony, Te Pāti Māori politicians broke with convention by dedicating their oaths to the Treaty of Waitangi and future generations.

That same month, 12 people were arrested following a protest in which they defaced an exhibition on the treaty at the national museum. Protesters accused the exhibition of lying about the treaty’s English version.

On 6 February, Waitangi Day, over a thousand people marched to the site where the treaty was agreed, calling for the bill to be rejected. At the official ceremony, people heckled Peters and Act leader Peter Seymour when they spoke.

Most recently, Māori people had a chance to show their discontent at a ceremony held in August to commemorate the coronation of the Māori King. Although normally all major party leaders attend, Seymour wasn’t invited, and a Māori leader told Prime Minister Christopher Luxon that the government had ‘turned its back on Māori’. The Māori King also called a rare national meeting in January, and the turnout – 10,000 people – further showed the extent of concern.

Wasted potential

At the same time, the Māori population is growing quickly – it recently passed the million mark – and is youthful. Compared to previous generations, people are more likely to embrace their Māori identity, culture and language. Māori people are showing their resilience, and activism has never been stronger. But this growing momentum has hit a political roadblock that threatens to throttle its potential – all for the sake of short-term political gain.

New Zealand’s positive international reputation is on the line – but it doesn’t have to be this way. The government should start acting like a responsible partner under the Treaty of Waitangi. It must abide by the treaty principles, as developed and elaborated over time, and stop scapegoating Māori people.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Aug 27 2024 (IPS)

Civil society is working on all fronts to tackle the climate crisis. Activists are protesting in numbers to pressure governments and corporations to cut greenhouse gas emissions. They’re using non-violent direct action and high-profile stunts, paying a heavy price as numerous states criminalise climate protest.

Campaigners are taking to the courts to hold governments and companies accountable for their climate commitments and impacts, with recent breakthroughs in Belgium, India and Switzerland, among others, and many more cases pending. They’re pressuring institutions to stop investing in fossil fuels – 72 per cent of UK universities have pledged to divest – and putting forward corporate resolutions calling for stronger action.

At the global level, activists are working to influence key meetings, particularly the COP climate summits. At the most recent summit, COP28, states agreed for the first time on the need to cut fossil fuel emissions – an incredibly belated acknowledgement, but one that came only after intensive civil society lobbying.

As pressure mounts, fossil fuel companies are looking for any way they can portray themselves as responsible corporate citizens while continuing their lethal business for as long as possible. They want to make it look as though they’re transitioning to renewable energies and cutting greenhouse gas emissions, when the opposite is true.

Cultural institutions are a prime target for fossil fuel companies with declining reputations but deep pockets. The outlay is tiny compared to the benefits. Through sponsorship, they try to present themselves as generous philanthropists and borrow the high public standing of well-known institutions. But climate activists aren’t letting them get away with it. They’re putting increasing pressure on art galleries and museums to end fossil fuel funding.

Science Museum in the spotlight

The UK is ground zero, home to numerous world-class galleries and museums under pressure to attract private sector sponsorship and to oil and gas titans such as BP and Shell. Pretty much all of London’s major cultural institutions have taken fossil fuel funding in the past. But that’s far less the case now. Thanks to the efforts of campaigning groups such as Culture Unstained, Fossil Free London and Liberate Tate, several have cut ties.

The latest victory came in July, when London’s Science Museum ended its contract with Norwegian state-owned oil giant Equinor. Equinor sponsored WonderLab – an interactive children’s exhibition – since 2016.

Equinor continues to develop new extractive projects, despite the International Energy Agency making clear there can be no further fossil fuel developments if there’s any hope of realising the Paris Agreement. Equinor majority owns the North Sea Rosebank oil and gas field, which the UK government approved for drilling last year.

The Science Museum publicly stated that its sponsorship had simply reached its end, but emails suggested that Equinor was in breach of the museum’s stated commitment to ensure sponsors comply with the Paris Agreement, as determined by the Transition Pathway Initiative, which assesses whether companies are adequately transitioning to a low-carbon economy.

Last year it was revealed that the Science Museum’s contract contained a gagging clause preventing the museum saying anything that might harm Equinor’s reputation. Such restrictions could prevent museums discussing the central role of the fossil fuel industry in causing climate change. There are also examples of companies such as Anglo-Dutch oil giant Shell trying to influence the content of exhibitions they sponsor.

As well as reputation-washing, fossil fuel companies can leverage sponsorships to lobby for further extraction: BP’s funding of a Mexican-themed event at the British Museum enabled it to network with Mexican government representatives as part of a successful bid for drilling licences. As its funding of arts bodies became more controversial, BP was also reported to have brought together representatives of sponsored institutions to discuss how to deal with activists.

Room for improvement

It’s unlikely this change would have happened without civil society pressure, which increased the Science Museum’s reputational costs. It marked the successful conclusion of an eight-year campaign involving young climate activists, scientists and civil society groups in the UK and Equinor’s home country, Norway.

But there’s still much room for improvement. The Science Museum still has a contract with BP, even though the Church of England divested from BP for the same reason the museum dropped Equinor: because the Transition Pathway Initiative assessed it wasn’t aligned with the Paris Agreement.

Even more grotesquely, the Science Museum’s new ‘Energy Revolution’ exhibition is sponsored by Adani, the world’s largest private coalmine developer, which is also involved in manufacturing drones Israel is using to kill people in Gaza. In April, campaigners held a sit-in protest against this deal. Hundreds of teachers have refused to take their students to the exhibition. In 2021, when the agreement was struck, two trustees resigned in protest.

There are many ways to express disgust. Shell’s sponsorship of a Science Museum climate exhibition led some prominent academics to boycott the institution and refuse to allow their work to appear in its exhibitions. Several of the galleries and museums that have accepted fossil fuel money have seen activists occupy their spaces in protest. When the Tate group of galleries was sponsored by BP, Liberate Tate staged a series of artistic interventions, including one where people threw specially designed fake banknotes.

British Museum on the wrong side of history

As long as it insists on taking fossil fuel money, the Science Museum can only expect more bad publicity. And it’s now something of a laggard. Many of the UK’s internationally renowned institutions have conceded civil society’s demands to cut the cord. The National Portrait Gallery, Royal Opera House, Royal Shakespeare Company and Tate have severed links with BP, and the British Film Institute, National Theatre and Southbank Centre have stopped accepting funding from Shell.

The trend has spread beyond the UK: Amsterdam’s renowned Van Gogh Museum ended its Shell deal in response to campaigning. In 2020, the city’s famous museum quarter was declared free of fossil fuel sponsorship.

But alongside the Science Museum, there’s another big holdout: the British Museum, long controversial for its vast collection of looted colonial-era artefacts. Last year it once again put itself on the wrong side of history by agreeing a 10-year US$65.6 million deal with BP, making a mockery of its stated intention to phase out fossil fuel use. It acted in defiance of protests and a letter signed by over 300 museum professionals urging it to end its relationship with BP, while its deputy chair resigned in protest.

It’s not just the cultural sector that fossil fuel corporations are trying to co-opt – they’re also extensively involved in sport. Petrostates such as Qatar, and likely soon Saudi Arabia, are hosting peak global sporting events, sponsoring everything from elite athletes to grassroots sports and using sovereign wealth funds to buy high-profile football clubs.

People rightly expect arts, sciences and sports to uphold exemplary standards because, at their best, they’re the highest expressions of what humanity can achieve. That’s why it’s so shocking when fossil fuel companies try to coopt them. All their attempts to launder their reputations must be met with determined resistance.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Aug 1 2024 (IPS)

It’s risky to try to protect the environment in authoritarian Cambodia. Ten young activists from the Mother Nature environmental group have recently been given long jail sentences. Two were sentenced to eight years on charges of plotting and insulting the king. Another seven were sentenced to six years for plotting, while one, a Spanish national banned from entering Cambodia, was sentenced in absentia.

Four of the activists were then violently dragged away from a peaceful sit-in they’d joined outside the court building. The five who’ve so far been jailed have been split up and sent to separate prisons, some far away from their families.

This is the latest in a long line of attacks on Mother Nature activists. The group is being punished for its work to try to protect natural resources, prevent water pollution and stop illegal logging and sand mining.

The more you repress us, the more resolute our fight to protect #Cambodia 's nature will be.
The more you to try to break our spirit, the stronger we will be.
Ratha, Kunthea, Daravuth, Akeo and Leanghy: We love you & respect your immense sacrifices. #FreetheMotherNature5 pic.twitter.com/2CoMwyHpjw

— Mother Nature Cambodia (@CambodiaMother) July 3, 2024

An autocratic regime

Cambodia’s de facto one-party regime tolerates little criticism. Its former prime minister, Hun Sen, ruled the country from 1985 until 2023, when he handed over to his son. This came shortly after a non-competitive election where the only credible opposition party was banned. It was the same story with the election in 2018. This suppression of democracy required a crackdown on dissenting voices, targeting civil society as well as the political opposition.

The authorities have weaponised the legal system. They use highly politicised courts to detain civil society activists and opposition politicians for long spells before subjecting them to grossly unfair trials. Campaigners for environmental rights, labour rights and social justice are frequently charged with vaguely defined offences under the Criminal Coder such as plotting and incitement. Last year, nine trade unionists were convicted of incitement after going on strike to demand better pay and conditions for casino workers.

In 2015 the government introduced the restrictive Law on Associations and Non-Governmental Organisations (LANGO), which requires civil society organisations to submit financial records and annual reports, giving the state broad powers to refuse registration or deregister organisations. In 2023, Hun Sen threatened to dissolve organisations if they failed to submit documents.

The state also closely controls the media. People close to the ruling family run the four main media groups and so they mostly follow the government line. Independent media outlets are severely restricted. Last year the authorities shut down one of the last remaining independent platforms, Voice of Democracy. Self-censorship means topics such as corruption and environmental concerns remain largely uncovered.

This extensive political control is closely entwined with economic power. The ruling family and its inner circle are connected to an array of economic projects. Landgrabs by state officials are common. These means land and Indigenous people’s rights activists are among those targeted.

In 2023, courts sentenced 10 land activists to a year in jail in response to their activism against land grabbing for a sugar plantation. That same year, three people from the Coalition of Cambodian Farmer Community, a farmers’ rights group, were charged with incitement and plotting. The LANGO has also been used to prevent unregistered community groups taking part in anti-logging patrols.

The activity that saw the Mother Nature activists charged with plotting involved documenting the flow of waste into a river close to the royal palace in the capital, Phnom Pen. It’s far from the first time the group’s environmental action has earned the state’s ire. The government feels threatened by the fact that Mother Nature’s activism resonates with many young people.

Three of the group’s activists were convicted on incitement charges in 2022 after organising a protest march to the prime minister’s residence to protest against the filling in of a lake for construction. In 2023, Mother Nature delivered a petition urging the government to stop granting land to private companies in Kirirom National Park; there’s evidence of licences going to people connected to ruling party politicians. In response, the Ministry of Environment said Mother Nature was an illegal organisation and that its actions were ‘against the interests of Cambodian civil society’.

Media also get in trouble if they report on the sensitive issue of land exploitation. In 2023, the authorities revoked the licences of three media companies for publishing reports on a senior official’s involvement in land fraud. In 2022, two teams of reporters covering a deforestation operation were violently arrested.

Regional challenges

Repression of environmental activism isn’t limited to Cambodia. In neighbouring Vietnam, the one-party communist state is also cracking down on climate and environmental activists. In part this is because, as in Cambodia, climate and environmental activism is increasingly shining a light on the environmentally destructive economic practices of authoritarian leaders.

Cambodia’s creeping use of the charge of insulting the king to stifle legitimate dissent also echoes a tactic frequently used in Thailand, where the authorities have jailed young democracy campaigners for violating an archaic lèse majesté law that criminalises criticism of the king. Other repressive states are following its lead – including Cambodia, where the law on insulting the king was introduced when the crackdown was well underway in 2018.

Cambodia provides ample evidence of how the denial of democracy and the repression that comes with it enable environmentally destructive policies that further affect people’s lives and rights. The solution to protect the environment and prevent runaway climate change is less repression, more democracy and a more enabled civil society.

Cambodia’s international partners should emphasise this in their dealings with the state. They should press the authorities to release the jailed Mother Nature activists, who deserve to spend the coming years helping make their country a better place, not rotting in prison.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Jul 26 2024 (IPS)

Two politicians have just been sentenced to long prison terms in Eswatini. Their crime? Calling for democracy.

Mthandeni Dube and Bacede Mabuza, both members of parliament (MP) at the time, were arrested in July 2021 for taking part in a wave of pro-democracy protests that swept the southern African country. A third MP, Mduduzi Simelane, remains subject to an arrest warrant after going into hiding.

Dube and Mabuza have been detained since their arrest, and have reportedly been physically assaulted, denied medical treatment and prevented from seeing their lawyers while in custody. Last year they were found guilty on charges including murder, sedition and terrorism. Now they know their fate: Mabuza has been sentenced to 25 years and Dube to 18. Since the sentencing, Mabuza, who has a medical condition that needs a special diet, has reportedly been denied food in prison.

Dube and Mabuza are political prisoners. They had no hope of a fair trial, and their criminal convictions had no basis in reality. Eswatini’s criminal justice system does the bidding of the country’s dictator and Africa’s last absolute monarch, King Mswati III. For almost four decades, Mswati has ruled his kingdom with an iron fist. Mswati is constitutionally above the law, appoints the prime minister and cabinet and can veto all legislation. He also appoints and controls judges, who are routinely deployed to criminalise those who challenge his power.

Dube and Mabuza plan to appeal but know the odds are stacked against them.

Ongoing crackdown

The 2021 protests for democracy posed the biggest threat yet to Mswati’s untrammelled power. His response was brutal. At least 46 people were killed as security forces opened fired on protesters. Leaked footage revealed that it was Mswati who commanded the security forces to shoot to kill and ordered the arrest of the pro-democracy MPs.

While peaceful protesters like Dube and Mabuza have been criminalised, in contrast no one has faced justice for the state-sanctioned killings. And the dangers faced by pro-democracy activists haven’t subsided. In January 2023, Thulani Maseko, a human rights lawyer and a leading democracy campaigner, was shot dead in front of his family. As well as heading the key network of groups calling for a peaceful transition to democracy, he was the two MPs’ lawyer.

His killing came just hours after Mswati warned democracy activists that mercenaries would ‘deal with’ them. No one has been held to account for the crime, while Maseko’s widow, Tanele Maseko, has faced harassment. In March she was arrested and her passport and phone were confiscated when she returned to Eswatini from South Africa.

The authorities have continued to arrest, abduct and detain activists, and others have survived evident assassination attempts and arson attacks. Mswati’s latest prime minister has warned the media they may face tighter regulation. The state has also used violence to repress further protests. An election was held in 2023 but, as usual, political parties were banned and candidates had to go through a selection process designed to exclude dissenting voices.

With authoritarian rule and the ability of those in power to ignore people’s demands come corruption and impunity. Most of Eswatini’s 1.2 million people live in poverty but Mswati and the royal family enjoy vast wealth and lavish lifestyles, paid for by the proceeds of the major assets they directly control.

No dialogue

The national dialogue Mswati promised in response to the 2021 protests never happened. Instead, he held a Sibaya – a traditional gathering where he was the only person allowed to speak.

Mswati only promised to hold a dialogue after South Africa’s President Cyril Ramaphosa intervened. South Africa has a clear role to play here: it borders Eswatini on three sides, is by far its biggest trading partner and is home to many of its exiled democracy activists, while Mswati has also reportedly imported South African mercenaries. The Southern African Development Community (SADC) is also supposed to be involved. But there’s been little pressure for action from South Africa and Eswatini has worked to keep itself off SADC’s agenda.

South Africa and SADC should remind Eswatini of its obligations under the global and African treaties it has adopted, including the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights. The government must roll back its repression, including the laws on public order, sedition and terrorism used to jail Dube and Mabuza. Releasing the two of them would be a good start.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Jul 23 2024 (IPS)

Kenya’s President William Ruto has withdrawn the tax-increasing Finance Bill that sparked mass protests. He has sacked his cabinet and the head of the police has resigned. But the anger many feel hasn’t gone away, and protests continue.

The protests have brought Kenya’s Gen Z onto the political stage, with young people – over 65 per cent of the population – at the forefront. Since the protests began, they’ve made full use of social media to share views, explain the impact of proposed changes, organise protests and raise funds to help those injured or arrested.

These protests have been different to those in the past, much more organic than previous opposition-organised demonstrations. The movement has brought people together across the ethnic lines politicians have so often exploited in the past.

People have protested even in the knowledge that security force violence is guaranteed. At least 50 people have died so far. As protests have continued, people have increasingly demanded accountability for the killings and the many other acts of state violence.

Out-of-touch elite

The Finance Bill would have imposed a levy on a range of everyday essentials such as bread, and taxes on internet use, mobile phones and money transfer services. Women would have been further hit by an increase in tax on menstrual products. For many, this was simply too much to bear in a context of high youth unemployment and rising costs.

The tax increases were among conditions demanded by the International Monetary Fund (IMF) in return for a US$3.9 billion package, along with the IMF’s usual prescription of spending cuts and privatisation that generally hit the poorest people hardest.

Ruto has continued to blame his predecessor, Uhuru Kenyatta, for lavish spending on grand projects. But Ruto was Kenyatta’s vice president, and only broke with his long-time ally after he wasn’t chosen as his party’s next presidential candidate.

To protesters, Ruto is as out of touch as the presidents before him. Opponents accuse him of trying to boost his presence on the world stage, including by offering to have Kenya lead an international policing mission to violence-torn Haiti, rather than addressing domestic problems. They see him as too willing to meet the demands of US-dominated financial institutions such as the IMF rather than stand up for Kenyans.

Problems such as corruption and patronage have run through multiple governments. Politicians are accused of enjoying lavish lifestyles insulated from people’s everyday problems. Kenya’s members of parliament are proportionally the second-highest paid in the world, earning 76 times average per capita GDP. Even so, corruption allegations are rife.

Ruto’s administration attempted to create another layer of government jobs a court ruled the move unconstitutional. He created new staffed offices for the first lady, deputy first lady and prime ministerial spouse, a decision dropped due to the protests. The proposed budget was filled with such examples of the government planning to spend more on itself.

Broken promises and state violence

For many, the sense of betrayal is heightened because when Ruto won an unexpected and narrow election victory in 2022, it was on a platform of being the champion of struggling people, promising to tackle the high cost of living. But costs kept increasing, and Ruto quickly reneged on promises to stop electricity price rises. He axed subsidies on energy, fuel and maize flour. The government’s 2023 Finance Act included a raft of new taxes and levies.

These measures sparked opposition-organised protests, and the reaction was state violence that left six people dead. The pattern is consistent. Kenyan security forces seem to know no response to protest other than violence.

On 25 June, the worst day of violence in the 2024 protests, security forces fired live ammunition at protesters, killing several, including some reportedly targeted by police snipers perched atop buildings. They’ve also used rubber bullets, teargas and water cannon, including against media and medical personnel. Protest leaders and social media influencers have been targeted for abduction and arrest.

??We call for the immediate release of peaceful #protesters violently repressed and unlawfully detained for opposing a controversial #FinanceBill. The Kenyan authorities must uphold citizens’ right to peaceful assembly guaranteed by the national constitution. #Kenyaprotests pic.twitter.com/pPW1m7P1Xc

— CIVICUS (@CIVICUSalliance) June 21, 2024

On 25 June, some protesters briefly attempted to storm parliament and started fires, but there have been accusations that politicians have paid people to infiltrate the protest movement and instigate acts of violence to try to justify security force brutality. Media providing live coverage of protests have reported receiving threats from the authorities telling them to shut down and internet access has been disrupted. Influencers have had their accounts suspended.

Although Ruto eventually pledged to take action where there is video evidence of police violence, he’s also been criticised for saying little about protest deaths and previously praised police actions. He accused ‘organised criminals’ of hijacking the protests and called the attempt to storm parliament ‘treasonous’.

Politicians have repeatedly smeared civil society organisations, claiming they’re being used by foreign powers to fund protests. Ruto, without any evidence, has accused the US-based Ford Foundation of helping finance unrest.

Demands for change

Over a month on, protests demanding Ruto’s resignation continue. It’s not just about the economy, and it’s not just about Ruto. It’s about the rejection of a whole political class and its way of governing. Trust in the institutions of government is very low.

Dialogue has been promised, but many feel it will be superficial. The government’s response to the protests should be to listen and consult deeply – and then change. People have shown they have power. They’ve shown that a system where they elect a political elite every few years to make decisions for them isn’t enough. They’ve shown they want something better.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Jul 15 2024 (IPS)

The political tide has turned in the UK – and civil society will be hoping for an end to government hostility.

The 4 July general election ended 14 years of rule by the right-wing Conservative party. The centre-left Labour party has returned to power, winning 411 out of 650 parliamentary seats.

Behind the headlines, however, there’s little reason to think the UK’s spell of political volatility is over, and the impacts of the deeply polarising 2016 Brexit referendum continue to ripple through politics.

Keir Starmer has become prime minister as a result of the UK’s most disproportionate election ever. The country’s archaic electoral system means his party won around 63 per cent of seats on just 34 per cent of the vote, up only around 1.5 per cent on its 2019 share and less than when it came second in 2017.

There was little perceptible public enthusiasm on display for Starmer and his promises of cautious reforms. But with high prices, failing public services and a housing crisis, many people wanted whatever change was available. Overwhelmingly the public mood was that the Conservative government was self-serving and out-of-touch and had to go.

Labour was far from the only beneficiary of haemorrhaging Conservative support. Smaller parties and independents took their biggest share of the vote in a century. The right-wing populist Reform UK party came third with 14.3 per cent of the vote, doing best in areas that had most strongly backed leaving the European Union, although the workings of the electoral system meant it won just five seats.

Labour’s resulting parliamentary majority is broad but shallow: it won many seats by small margins. Reform, having come second in 98 seats, can be expected to try to exploit the disarray in the Conservative Party, make as much noise as it can in parliament and hope for a breakthrough next time. Conservative politicians may well decide the lesson is to tack further right, and an alliance or merger between the two right-wing forces can’t be ruled out.

Discontent and disengagement were also indicated by a turnout of only 59.9 per cent, one of the lowest ever. There may be a several reasons: a sense Labour’s win was a foregone conclusion, and voter ID measures introduced by the last government that may have stopped 400,000 people voting. But it’s hard to escape the conclusion that at least some who stayed at home felt there was no point choosing between the parties on offer.

Time to reclaim rights

To address disaffection and stave off the threat of right-wing populism, Labour will need to show it can make a difference in addressing the UK’s economic and social malaise. One way it can signal a change and build positive partnerships to tackle problems is by respecting civic space and working with civil society. There’s plenty of room for improvement here.

Under the last government, hostility towards civil society grew and civic freedoms suffered. Last year, the UK’s civic space rating was downgraded to ‘obstructed’ by the CIVICUS Monitor, our collaborative research project that tracks the health of civic space around the world. The main reason was new laws that significantly increased restrictions on protests and expanded police powers to break them up and arrest protesters. Climate activists have been the main target.

As the outgoing government backtracked on its net-zero pledges and committed to more oil and gas extraction, campaigners increasingly embraced non-violent direct action. The government’s response was to vilify climate protesters, backed by laws that criminalise protests deemed to be noisy or disruptive. Mass arrests of protesters have become commonplace, and it’s no longer rare for people to receive jail sentences for protest-related offences. Recently, protesters against the monarchy and those demanding stronger action on Israel have faced similar treatment.

Meanwhile the outgoing government relentlessly fuelled public hostility towards migrants, particularly those crossing the English Channel in the absence of legal routes. Its ‘hostile environment’ policy led to the Windrush Scandal – in which people who’d lived legally in the UK for decades were detained and deported for want of documentation they’d never needed. More recently the government introduced its Rwanda policy, threatening to permanently remove people to the authoritarian East African state. When, in response to a civil society lawsuit, the European Court of Human Rights ruled the policy illegal because Rwanda wasn’t a safe country to send people to, the government passed a law declaring it safe, and its more right-wing politicians called for the UK to leave the court.

At the same time, the government raided its aid budget to cover the costs of hosting asylum seekers in the UK. The government merged its international development ministry into its foreign affairs ministry in 2020 and, in 2021, dropped its commitment to spend 0.7 per cent of gross national income on aid. Last year, it spent more than a quarter of its aid budget – money that should be used to help end poverty and inequality in the global south – on hosting asylum seekers in the UK.

As part of its rightward shift, the Conservative Party also backtracked on its commitments to LGBTQI+ rights, waging a culture war against trans rights, including by promising to ban gender-neutral bathrooms and prohibit discussion of gender identity in schools. The UK went from being Europe’s most LGBTQI+-friendly country to 16th. As happens every time politicians target an excluded group for vilification, hate crimes against trans people hit record levels.

This all leaves civil society with a big agenda to take to the new government. There’ve been some early encouraging signs. The government has dropped the Rwanda plan. It’s reversed an onshore wind farm ban. But there are many more advocacy asks. The best way to signal a new beginning would be to commit to respecting and repairing the space where demands can be articulated: rebuilding relationships with civil society, restoring the right to protest and reversing attacks on human rights.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Jul 11 2024 (IPS)

Sudan is the scene of unimaginable suffering. As war between army and militia continues, civilians are paying the highest price. Both sides are killing non-combatants and committing gross human rights crimes.

The country stands on the brink of famine. It’s experiencing its worst recorded levels of food insecurity and over 750,000 are at risk of starvation.

Around 11 million people have been forced to flee their homes, armed forces have stolen and destroyed food supplies, crops and livestock, and many people are no longer able to earn a living or farm. UN human rights experts accuse both sides of using denial of food as a weapon, including by blocking humanitarian deliveries and looting depots.

Many of the worst-affected areas are in Darfur, where the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) militia has gained territory and is currently besieging El Fasher. The RSF grew out of the militias that committed genocide in Darfur two decades ago, and they’re again accused of genocide, carrying out ethnically motivated mass killings. Meanwhile, the army it’s fighting, the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF), has blocked the main humanitarian access point on the border with Chad.

Proxy war

The conflict broke out in April 2023, sparked by a power struggle between two men: Abdel Fattah al-Burhan, SAF commander-in-chief and leader of the ruling junta, and Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemeti, RSF head. The two worked together in the 2021 coup that ousted a civilian government. A plan to incorporate the RSF into the SAF was the flashpoint of their battle for leadership and, crucially, control of resources.

But beyond the two warring egos, bigger forces are at play. Several other states are taking sides in the conflict, enabling it to continue. Much of the foreign involvement is opaque and subject to official denials. Egypt and Iran are among states providing military support to the SAF. Meanwhile, forces from the eastern part of divided Libya have allegedly helped supply the RSF, and the Chadian government is accused of cooperating with it.

Another distant war is echoing in Sudan. Russia, which has extensive goldmining interests in the country, initially seemed to be siding with the RSF, particularly through its mercenary fighters. In response, Ukrainian troops reportedly carried out attacks on Russian mercenaries and RSF forces. More recently, however, Russia may be tilting towards the SAF, possibly eyeing the development of a Red Sea naval base. Russia recently abstained on a UN Security Council resolution calling on the RSF to end its siege of El Fasher, which it could have vetoed.

But the biggest player is the United Arab Emirates (UAE), the Gulf petrostate that’s increasingly asserting itself in many African countries. In countries undergoing conflict, it takes sides. In Ethiopia, when federal troops fought separatist groups from Tigray, the UAE supported the government. In Libya, it’s backed the eastern forces fighting those in the west.

In Sudan, it’s firmly on the RSF’s side. It’s supplying weapons to the RSF, including reportedly through shipments disguised as humanitarian aid and supplies routed through other African counties where it has a presence. Key RSF backroom operations are being run from UAE locations. Wounded RSF fighters are reportedly being treated in Abu Dhabi. Without the UAE’s support, it’s highly unlikely the RSF would be able to sustain its war effort on its current scale. The UAE denies it all, but a UN expert panel found the allegations credible.

The UAE has extensive economic interests at stake. It receives more Sudanese gold than any other country, some of which makes its way to Russia. It has large agricultural investments and a major Red Sea port plan.

There are political interests too. The UAE doesn’t want countries it has a stake in to democratise. It supports several anti-democratic African governments, including in Algeria, Egypt and Tunisia. It likely sees backing the RSF as the best way to ensure the democratic transition once promised by the 2019 revolution remains thwarted.

A Middle East power struggle is playing out in Sudan. The UAE has long taken a similar stance to Saudi Arabia’s, but increasingly shows an appetite to contest Saudi supremacy. The two ended up diverging over their involvement in the conflict in Yemen. Its Sudan policy is another way the UAE can demonstrate its independence.

The UAE’s role also accounts for Iran’s pro-SAF position, while Saudi Arabia is trying to distinguish itself from both by brokering peace talks, known as the Jeddah process, which so far have come to little.

The UAE also has powerful friends in the west, not least the UK and the USA, and it’s using them to limit international scrutiny. The British government, which currently leads on Sudan at the UN Security Council, was reported to have pressured African states not to criticise the UAE over its support for the RSF.

Time for action

The people of Sudan deserve better than to be pawns in a proxy war waged by distant states.

But people in the UAE have no way to pressure their government if they’re upset about the blood on its hands. Civic space in the UAE is closed and those who speak out are routinely criminalised.

This means it falls on others to mobilise. States helping perpetuate the conflict should come under greater pressure from other states, the international community and international civil society.

The first and most urgent demand must be for unfettered humanitarian access. Even then, an immediate ceasefire is needed. There must the follow a process of genuine dialogue to build peace and plan for transition, which must involve Sudanese civil society in its diverse forms.

The international community must step up its efforts. The UN’s fact-finding mission, established last October following civil society advocacy, has been severely hampered by funding shortfalls, as has the humanitarian response plan. States must adequately resource the UN response.

States, the international community and civil society must also throw the spotlight on the UAE. There must be consequences. When the RSF eventually faces justice, those who enabled it must also be held to account – and the UAE’s rulers should be first in line.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Jul 3 2024 (IPS)

Myanmar’s army, at war with pro-democracy forces and ethnic militias, must know it’s nowhere near victory. It recently came close to losing control of Myawaddy, one of the country’s biggest cities, at a key location on the border with Thailand. Many areas are outside its control.

The army surely expected an easier ride when it ousted the elected government in a coup on 1 February 2021. It had ruled Myanmar for decades before democracy returned in 2015. But many democracy supporters took up arms, and in several parts of the country they’ve allied with militia groups from Myanmar’s ethnic minorities, with a long history of resisting military oppression.

Setbacks and violence

Army morale has collapsed. Thousands of soldiers are reported to have surrendered, including complete battalions – some out of moral objections to the junta’s violence and others because they saw defeat as inevitable. There have also been many defections, with defectors reporting they’d been ordered to kill unarmed civilians. Forces fighting the junta’s troops are encouraging defectors to join their ranks.

In response to reversals, in February the junta announced it would introduce compulsory conscription for young people, demanding up to five years of military service. An estimated 60,000 men are expected to be called up in the first round. The announcement prompted many young people to flee the country if they could, and if not, seek refuge in parts of Myanmar free from military control.

There have also been reports of army squads kidnapping people and forcing them to serve. Given minimal training, they’re cannon fodder and human shields. Rohingya people – an officially stateless Muslim minority – are among those reportedly being forcibly enlisted. They’re being pressed into service by the same military that committed genocide against them.

People who manage to cross into Thailand face hostility from Thai authorities and risk being returned against their will. Even after leaving Myanmar, refugees face the danger of transnational repression, as government intelligence agents reportedly operate in neighbouring countries and the authorities are freezing bank accounts, seizing assets and cancelling passports.

Conscription isn’t just about giving the junta more personnel to compensate for its losses – it’s also part of a sustained campaign of terror intended to subdue civilians and suppress activism. Neighbourhoods are being burned to the ground and hundreds have died in the flames. The air force is targeting unarmed towns and villages. The junta enjoys total impunity for these and many other vile acts.

The authorities hold thousands of political prisoners on fabricated charges and subject them to systematic torture. The UN independent fact-finding mission reports that at least 1,703 people have died in custody since the coup, likely an underestimate. Many have been convicted in secret military trials and some sentenced to death.

There’s also a growing humanitarian crisis, with many hospitals destroyed, acute food shortages in Rakhine state, where many Rohingya people live, and an estimated three million displaced. Voluntary groups are doing their best to help communities, but the situation is made much worse by the military obstructing access for aid workers.

International neglect

In March, UN human rights chief Volker Türk described the situation in Myanmar as ‘a never-ending nightmare’. It’s up to the international community to exert the pressure needed to end it.

It’s by no means certain the military will be defeated. Adversity could lead to infighting and the rise of even more vicious leaders. One thing that could make a decisive difference is disruption of the supply chain, particularly the jet fuel that enables lethal airstrikes on civilians. In April, the UN Human Rights Council passed a resolution calling on states to stop supplying the military with jet fuel. States should implement it.

Repressive states such as China, India and Russia have been happy enough to keep supplying the junta with weapons. But democratic states must take the lead and apply more concerted pressure. Some, including Australia, the UK and USA, have imposed new sanctions on junta members this year, but these have been slow in coming and fall short of the approach the Human Rights Council resolution demands.

But the worst response has come from the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN). Ignoring reality and civil society’s proposals, ASEAN has stuck to a plan it developed in April 2021 that simply hasn’t worked. The junta takes advantage of ASEAN’s weakness. It announced compulsory conscription shortly after a visit by ASEAN’s Special Envoy for Myanmar.

ASEAN’s neglect has allowed human rights violations and, increasingly, transnational organised crime to flourish. The junta is involved in crimes such as drug trafficking, illegal gambling and online fraud. It uses the proceeds of these, often carried out with the help of Chinese gangs, to finance its war on its people. As a result, Myanmar now ranks number one on the Global Organized Crime Index. This is a regional problem, affecting people in Myanmar’s neighbouring countries as well.

ASEAN members also have an obligation to accept refugees from Myanmar, including those fleeing conscription. They should commit to protecting them and not forcing them back, particularly when they’re democracy and human rights activists whose lives would be at risk.

Forced conscription must be the tipping point for international action. This must include international justice, since there’s none in Myanmar. The junta has ignored an order from the International Court of Justice to protect Rohingya people and prevent actions that could violate the Genocide Convention, following a case brought by the government of The Gambia alleging genocide against the Rohingya. The UN Security Council should now use its power to refer Myanmar to the International Criminal Court so prosecutions of military leaders can begin.

China and Russia, which have so far refused to back calls for action, should end their block on Security Council action, in the interests of human rights and to prevent growing regional instability.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Jun 20 2024 (IPS)

The violence that rocked New Caledonia last month has subsided. French President Emmanuel Macron has recently announced the suspension of changes to voting rights in the Pacific island nation, annexed by his country in 1853. His attempt to introduce these changes sparked weeks of violence.

Colonial legacies

Scattered around the world are 13 territories once part of the French Empire that haven’t achieved independence. Their status varies. Some, such as Guadeloupe and Martinique, have the same legal standing as French mainland regions. Others have more autonomy. New Caledonia is in a category of its own: since the 1998 Nouméa Accord, named after New Caledonia’s capital, France agreed to a gradual transfer of power. Currently, France determines New Caledonia’s defence, economic, electoral, foreign and migration policies.

The Accord came in response to a rising independence movement led by Kanak people, the country’s Indigenous inhabitants. Kanaks make up around 40 per cent of the population, with the rest being people of European descent and smaller groups of Asian, Oceanian and mixed heritage. Kanaks experienced severe discrimination under French colonial rule, and for a period were confined to reservations.

An independence movement formed after a fresh wave of Europeans arrived in the 1970s to work in the nickel-mining industry. New Caledonia is the world’s fourth-largest producer of nickel, a key ingredient in stainless steel and, increasingly, electric vehicle batteries. The nickel boom highlighted the divide in economic opportunities. Unrest lead to worsening violence and, eventually, the Nouméa Accord.

A downturn in the industry has deepened economic strife, exacerbating the poverty, inequality and unemployment many Kanaks experience. Today, around a third of Kanaks live in poverty compared to nine per cent of non-Kanaks.

Multiple referendums

The Accord created different electoral rolls for voting in mainland France and in New Caledonian elections and referendums, where the roll is frozen and only people who lived in the country in 1998 and their children can vote. These limitations were intended to give Kanak people a greater say in three independence referendums provided for in the Accord.

Referendums took place in 2018, 2020 and 2021, and the pro-independence camp lost every time. The 2020 vote was close, with around 47 per cent in favour of independence. But the December 2021 referendum was held amid a boycott by pro-independence parties, which called for a postponement due to the COVID-19 pandemic: an outbreak that began in September 2021 left 280 people dead, most of them Kanak. Independence campaigners complained the vote impinged on traditional Kanak mourning rituals, making it impossible to campaign.

Almost 97 per cent of those who voted rejected independence, but the boycott meant only around 44 per cent of eligible people voted, compared to past turnouts of over 80 per cent.

France viewed this referendum as marking the completion of the Nouméa Accord. Macron made clear he considered the issue settled and appointed anti-independence people to key positions. The independence movement insisted that the vote, imposed by France against its wishes, wasn’t valid and another should be held.

Since the Accord was agreed, the far right has risen to prominence in France, as seen in the recent European Parliament elections. French politics and its politicians have become more racist, with mainstream parties, including Macron’s, tacking rightwards in response to the growing popularity of the far-right National Rally party. The ripple effect in New Caledonia is growing polarisation. As French politicians have promoted a narrow understanding of national identity, New Caledonia’s anti-independence movement has become more emboldened.

China’s push for closer ties with Pacific countries has also raised Oceania’s strategic importance. The US government and its allies, including France, have responded by paying renewed attention to a long-neglected region. France may be less willing to tolerate independence than before, particularly given the growing demand for electric vehicles.

State of emergency

The immediate cause of the protests was the French government’s plan to extend the franchise to anyone who has lived in New Caledonia for more than 10 years. For the independence movement, this was a unilateral departure from the Nouméa Accord’s principles and a setback for prospects for decolonisation and self-determination. Tens of thousands took part in protests against the change, approved by the French National Assembly but pending final confirmation.

On 13 May, clashes between pro-independence protesters and security forces led to riots. Rioters burned down hundreds of buildings in Nouméa. Communities set up barricades and people formed defence groups. Eight people are reported to have died.

France declared a state of emergency and brought in around 3,000 troops to suppress the violence, a move many in civil society criticised as heavy-handed. French authorities also banned TikTok. It was the first time a European Union country has made such a move, potentially setting a dangerous precedent.

Blocking social media platforms will never be the answer!

For two weeks, French authorities blocked TikTok in New Caledonia in an attempt to quell protests. Learn why this action was unacceptable and will always be in violation of human rights:https://t.co/NFaTHvidXI

— Access Now (@accessnow) June 5, 2024

Dialogue needed

Macron, who paid a brief visit once violence had subsided, has said the electoral changes will be suspended to allow for dialogue. His decision to gamble on early elections in France in the wake of his European election defeat has bought him some time.

This time should be used to build bridges and address the evident fact that many Kanak people don’t feel listened to. This goes beyond the question of the franchise. There are deep and unaddressed problems of economic and social exclusion. Many of those involved in violence were young, unemployed Kanaks who feel life has little to offer.

As a consequence of recent developments, New Caledonia is now more divided than it’s been in decades. The question of independence hasn’t been settled. Many Kanak people feel betrayed. For them, before there can be any extension of the franchise, France must agree to complete the unfinished process of decolonisation.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Jun 14 2024 (IPS)

There’s been recent change in violence-torn Haiti – but whether much-needed progress results remains to be seen.

Acting prime minister Garry Conille was sworn in on 3 June. A former UN official who briefly served as prime minister over a decade ago, Conille was the compromise choice of the Transitional Presidential Council. The Council formed in April to temporarily assume the functions of the presidency following the resignation of de facto leader Ariel Henry.

Upsurge in violence

Haiti has seen intense and widespread gang violence since the assassination of President Jovenel Moïse in July 2021. Henry was finally forced out as the conflict escalated still further. In February, two major gang networks joined forces. The gangs attacked Haiti’s main airport, forcing it to close for almost three months and stopping Henry returning from abroad.

Gangs took control of police stations and Hait’s two biggest jails, releasing over 4,000 prisoners. The violence targeted an area of the capital, Port-au-Prince, previously considered safe, where the presidential palace, government headquarters and embassies are located. Haitian citizens paid a heaver price: the UN estimates that around 2,500 people were killed or injured in gang violence in the first quarter of this year, a staggering 53 per cent increase on the previous quarter.

Henry won’t be missed by civil society. He was widely seen as lacking any legitimacy. Moïse announced his appointment shortly before his assassination, but it was never formalised, and he then won a power struggle thanks in part to the support of foreign states. His tenure was a blatant failure. It was when the gangs seemed on the verge of taking full control of Port-au-Prince that Henry finally lost US support.

Now the USA, other states and the Caribbean Community (CARICOM) have thrown their weight behind the Council and a Kenya-led international police force, which has recently begun to deploy.

Contested developments

Gang leaders can be expected to maintain their resistance to these developments. The most prominent, ex-police officer Jimmy Chérizier, demands a role in any talks. But this looks like posturing. Chérizier likes to portray himself as a revolutionary, on the side of poor people against elites. But the gangs are predatory. They kill innocent people, and it’s the poorest who suffer the most. The things the gangs make their money from – including kidnapping for ransom, extortion and smuggling – benefit from weak law enforcement and a lack of central authority. Gang leaders are best served by maximum chaos for as long as possible, and when that ends will seek an accommodation with favourable politicians, as they’ve enjoyed before.

Political squabbling suits the gangs, which makes it a concern that it took extensive and protracted negotiations to establish the Council. The opaque process was evidently characterised by self-interested manoeuvring as politicians jockeyed for position and status.

The resulting body has nine members: seven with voting rights and two observers. Six of the seven come from political groupings, with the seventh a private sector representative. One observer represents religious groups and the other civil society: Régine Abraham, a crop scientist by profession, from the Rally for a National Agreement.

The Council’s formation was shortly followed by the arrival of an advance force of Kenyan police, with more to follow. It’s been a long time coming. The current plan for an international police force was adopted by a UN Security Council resolution in October 2023. The government of Kenya took the lead, offering a thousand officers, with smaller numbers to come from elsewhere. But Kenya’s opposition won a court order temporarily preventing the move. Henry was in Kenya to sign a mutual security agreement to circumvent the ruling when he was left stranded by the airport closure.

Many Haitians are rightly wary of the prospect of foreign powers getting involved. The country has a dismal history of self-serving international interference, particularly by the US government, while UN forces have been no saviours. A peacekeeping mission from 2004 to 2017 committed sexual abuse and introduced cholera. This will be the 11th UN-organised mission since 1993, and all have been accused of human rights violations.

Civil society points to the Kenyan police’s long track record of committing violence and rights abuses, and is concerned it won’t understand local dynamics. There’s also the question of whether resources spent on the mission wouldn’t be better used to properly equip and support Haiti’s forces, which have consistently been far less well equipped than the gangs. Previous international initiatives have manifestly failed to help strengthen the capacity of Haitian institutions to protect rights and uphold the rule of law.

Time to listen

Haitian civil society is right to criticise the current process as falling short of expectations. It’s an impossible task to expect one person to represent the diversity of Haiti’s civil society, no matter how hard they try. And that person doesn’t even have a vote: the power to make decisions by majority vote is in the hands of political parties many feel helped create the current mess.

The Council is also a male-dominated institution: Abraham is its only female member. With gangs routinely using sexual violence as a weapon, the Council hardly seems in good shape to start building a Haiti free of violence against women and girls.

And given the role of international powers in bringing it about, the Council – just like the Kenya-led mission – is open to the accusation of being just another foreign intervention, giving rise to suspicions about the motives of those behind it.

The latest steps could be the start of something better, but only if they’re built on and move in the right direction. Civil society is pushing for more from the government: for much more women’s leadership and civil society engagement. For the Kenya-led mission, civil society is urging strong human rights safeguards, including a means for complaints to be heard if the mission, like all its predecessors, commits human rights abuses. This shouldn’t be too much to ask.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Jun 7 2024 (IPS)

India’s Hindu nationalist strongman Narendra Modi has won his third prime ministerial term. But the result of the country’s April-to-June election fell short of the sweeping triumph that seemed within his grasp.

Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) has shed seats compared to the 2019 election, losing its parliamentary majority. Modi remains prime minister thanks to coalition partners. It’s a long way from the 400-seat supermajority Modi proclaimed he wanted – which would have given him power to rewrite the constitution.

The outcome may be that Modi faces more checks on his power. If so, that can only be good news for those he’s consistently attacked – including civil society and India’s Muslim minority.

Modi’s crackdown

Under Modi, in power since 2014, civic space conditions have deteriorated. India’s election was accompanied by the usual headlines about the country being the world’s largest democracy. But India’s democracy has long been underpinned by an active, vibrant and diverse civil society. Modi has sought to constrain this civic energy, seeing it as a hindrance to his highly centralised and personalised rule.

Modi’s government has repeatedly used repressive laws, including the draconian Unlawful Activities Prevention Act, to harass, intimidate and detain activists and journalists on fabricated charges. Law enforcement agencies have raided numerous civil society organisations and media companies. In October 2023, for example, police raided the homes of around 40 staff members of the NewsClick portal and detained its editor.

This was one of many attacks on media freedoms. Independent journalists routinely face harassment, intimidation, threats, violence, arrests and prosecution. Last year, the government banned a BBC documentary on Modi, followed by tax investigation raids on the corporation’s Indian offices.

The authorities have also used the Foreign Contribution Regulation Act to block access to international funding for civil society organisations, targeting those critical of their attacks on human rights. In 2020, the government amended the law to make it even stricter, extending powers to freeze bank accounts. Since the start of 2022, the authorities have cancelled registrations of almost 6,000 organisations.

The authorities have also unleashed violence against protesters. In 2019, citizenship legislation created a way for undocumented migrants to become Indian citizens – but only if they weren’t Muslim. Despite India’s secular constitution, the law introduced religious criteria into the determination of citizenship. The passage of this discriminatory law brought tens of thousands to the streets. Security forces responded with beatings, teargas and arrests, accompanied by internet shutdowns.

It was the same when farmers protested in 2020 and 2021, believing new farming laws would undermine their ability to make a living. The farmers ultimately triumphed, with Modi repealing the unpopular laws. But several farmers died as a result of the authorities’ heavy-handed response, including when a minister’s car ploughed into a crowd of protesters. Once again, the authorities shut down internet and mobile services, and police used batons and teargas and arrested many protesters.

As the new citizenship law made clear, those who have least access to rights are the ones most under attack. Muslims are the BJP’s favourite target, since it seeks to recast the country as an explicitly Hindu nation. The party’s politicians have consistently stoked anti-Muslim hatred, including over the wearing of hijabs, interfaith marriage and the protection of cows – a revered animal in Hinduism.

Modi has been accused of spreading anti-Muslim hate speech and conspiracy theories, including on the campaign trail. During the election, he called Muslims ‘infiltrators’ and alluded to India’s version of a narrative often advanced by far-right parties – that a minority population is out to replace the majority through a higher birthrate and the conversion of partners.

The BJP’s populist rhetoric has encouraged hatred and violence. In 2020, Delhi saw its worst riots in decades, sparked by violence at a protest against the citizenship law. Groups of Hindus and Muslims fought each other and 53 people were killed, most of them Muslims.

Top-down institutional violence followed the unilateral revocation of Jammu and Kashmir’s special autonomous status in 2019. The removal of constitutional protections for this Muslim-majority region was accompanied by a military occupation, curfew, public meeting ban, movement restrictions and one of the world’s longest-ever internet shutdowns. Indian government authorities have detained thousands of Kashmiri activists and criminalised countless journalists.

Disinformation thrives

Ahead of the election, the state detained key opposition politicians such as Delhi’s Chief Minister Arvind Kejriwal and froze opposition bank accounts, including of the main opposition party, Congress. Almost all politicians investigated by the government’s Enforcement Directorate are from the opposition.

Indian elections always take several weeks, given the huge logistical challenge of allowing up to 969 million people to vote. But this one, spread over 82 days, was unusually long. This allowed Modi to travel the country and make as many appearances as possible, representing a campaign that put his personality front and centre.

Disinformation was rife in the campaign. BJP politicians spread claims that Muslims were engaged in what they called a ‘vote jihad’ against Hindus, accompanied by accusations that the opposition would favour Muslims. Congress leader Rahul Gandhi was a particular target, with false allegations of links to China and Pakistan and doctored videos in circulation.

But despite the many challenges, the opposition coalition performed better than expected. The result suggests at least some are tired of the Modi personality cult and politics of polarisation. And for all the BJP’s attempts to emphasise economic success, many voters don’t feel better off. What matters to them are rising prices and unemployment, and they judged the incumbent accordingly.

It’s to be hoped the result leads to a change in style, with less divisive rhetoric and more emphasis on compromise and consensus building. That may be a tall order, but the opposition might now be better able to play its proper accountability role. Modi has lost his sheen of invincibility. For civil society, this could open up opportunities to push back and urge the government to stop its onslaught.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, May 23 2024 (IPS)

The old guard is back in North Macedonia, as the former ruling party – the Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Organization – Democratic Party for Macedonian National Unity (VMRO-DPMNE) – returns to parliamentary and presidential power.

Long the country’s dominant political force, the right-wing VMRO-DPMNE had been out of power since 2016. But this month, the political alliance it leads came first in the parliamentary election, taking 58 of 120 seats. In the presidential election runoff, its candidate triumphed with 61 per cent of the vote. In both cases the centre-left, pro-Europe Social Democratic Union of Macedonia (SDSM), which had led the governing coalition and held the presidency, came a distant second. In parliament, its political alliance lost 28 of its 46 seats with only 14 per cent of the vote.

VMRO-DPMNE made its way back to office by harnessing widespread public frustration over the country’s attempt to join the European Union (EU), which has moved slowly, been dogged by controversy and forced the government to make numerous compromises. SDSM stood on a platform of rapid constitutional reform to accelerate progress, but VMRO-DPMNE, while claiming to support EU membership, opposes further changes. Its return signals a turn away from Europe, and a likely worsening of civil society conditions.

Rocky road towards the EU

North Macedonia has been an official candidate to join the EU since 2005. Negotiations are always lengthy, but North Macedonia’s road has been particularly bumpy. Before it could begin formal negotiations, it had to change the country’s name. Any existing EU member can block a non-member’s accession, and Greece stood in the way. The country shared its name with a region of Greece, which the Greek government saw as implying a territorial claim.

The hugely controversial issue brought extensive protests as name-change negotiations reached their conclusion in 2018. A referendum intended to approve the change failed when a boycott left turnout well below the level required; VMRO-DPMNE urged its supporters to reject the deal. The referendum was non-binding, and parliament went on to change the constitution regardless in January 2019.

Then Bulgaria intervened. The Bulgarian government insists its North Macedonian counterpart must do more to prevent the spread of anti-Bulgarian sentiments and protect the rights of the country’s Bulgarian minority. This heated issue, inflamed by much disinformation, helped force a political crisis in Bulgaria in 2022 when the government collapsed.

The two sides finally struck a deal to allow North Macedonia to begin EU negotiations in July 2022, but disputes still flare. In 2023 Bulgaria’s parliament warned it could halt the process again. North Macedonia’s outgoing government failed to win the two-thirds parliamentary majority needed to change the constitution to recognise the Bulgarian minority.

Relations with Bulgaria played their part in the campaign. Some think the government has gone too far in compromising, and VMRO-DPMNE characterised the SDSM-led government’s actions as a surrender.

As a consequence of all the delays and compromises, public support for joining the EU has fallen.

A troubling return

VMRO-DPMNE led the government for a decade from 2006 to 2016, with Nikola Gruevski prime minister throughout. The party also held the presidency, a less powerful role, from 2009 to 2019.

Gruevski and his party fell from grace in 2016 amid allegations that he and many more of his party’s politicians were involved in a wiretapping scandal affecting over 20,000 people. Mass protests followed. VMRO-DPMNE still came first in the 2016 parliamentary election but couldn’t form a coalition, so power passed to an SDSM-led government. SDSM retained power in the 2020 election, and its candidate won the presidency in 2019.

Gruevski’s fall was swift. In 2018, he was sentenced to two years in prison for corruption, but he fled to Hungary, where the government of his authoritarian friend Viktor Orbán granted him political asylum. Further convictions followed, including a seven-year sentence for money laundering and illegal acquisition of property.

From exile, Gruevski has continued to criticise the government that replaced him. And while relations with VMRO-DPMNE’s current leader are hostile, ideologically VMRO-DPMNE still carries his fingerprints and the networks Gruevski developed among supportive media, the private sector and criminal groups remain. Under Gruevski, the party took a nationalist, pro-Russia and anti-west direction, promoting identity politics that hark back to the ancient Macedonian Empire.

For civil society, this makes the results concerning news. Conditions deteriorated during VMRO-DPMNE’s decade in power. The party’s identity politics fuelled a polarised environment. Nationalist groups physically attacked several journalists. Civil society leaders were among those subjected to illegal surveillance. Using the same tactics as Orbán, the government hurled abuse at civil society groups receiving funding from Open Society Foundations, accusing them of colluding with foreign governments. It subjected critical organisations to financial audits and raided their offices.

The election was held in an atmosphere of intense polarisation and proliferating disinformation, some originating in Russia, which doesn’t want any more countries joining the EU. There’s now a risk of a return to the politics of division, which would bring a resumption of attacks on civil society and independent media. VMRO-DPMNE has already made clear it’s looking for confrontation. New president Gordana Siljanovska-Davkova upset Greece by using North Macedonia’s old name during her inauguration ceremony.

The EU impasse wasn’t the only reason voters were unhappy. People haven’t seen any progress in combating corruption or improving economic conditions and public services. In country after country, there’s a broader pattern of electoral volatility as voters, unhappy with the performance of incumbents in difficult economic conditions, shop around for anything that looks different. Populist and nationalist parties – even long-established ones such as VMRO-DPMNE – are doing best at making an emotional connection with voters’ anger, offering deceptively simple answers and promising change.

For civil society, that means there’s now work to be done in depolarising the debate, building consensus and defending civic freedoms: a tall order, but a vital one, for which it’ll need a lot of support.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, May 16 2024 (IPS)

There’s change at the top in Solomon Islands – but civil society will be watching closely to see whether that means a government that’s grown hostile will start doing things differently.

Jeremiah Manele is the new prime minister, emerging from negotiations that followed April’s general election. He’s part of OUR Party, led by outgoing four-time prime minister Manasseh Sogavare. The party came first, winning 15 of 50 constituencies, but several incumbents who stood for it lost their parliamentary seats, and Sogavare only narrowly held his. Weakened, Sogavare stood aside to allow Manele to prevail as the consensus candidate of the post-election coalition his party stitched together.

China in the spotlight

Voters had to wait to have their say. The election was supposed to be held in 2023 but the government postponed it. It claimed it couldn’t afford to hold the election and host the Pacific Games in the same year, and temporarily suspended constitutional provisions through a parliamentary vote. The opposition accused Sogavare of a power grab and questioned his commitment to democracy.

Political debate in recent years has been dominated by the government’s relations with China, a major funder of the 2023 Pacific Games. Sogavare pivoted towards China shortly after becoming prime minister for the fourth time in 2019. Until then, Solomon Islands was among the small number of states that still recognised Taiwan instead of China. The move was controversial, made with no consultation after an election in which it hadn’t been an issue.

Sogavare then signed a series of agreements with China, including a highly secretive security cooperation deal. For civil society, this raised the concern that Solomon Islands police could be trained in the same repressive techniques used in China, and Chinese security forces could be deployed if unrest broke out. The country has experienced several bouts of conflict, including ethnic unrest and violent protests started by young unemployed men, with some violence targeting people of Chinese origin. Such conflict followed controversial post-2019 election manoeuvres that returned Sogavare to power, and surged again in 2021 over the government’s relations with China. Sogavare blamed ‘foreign powers’ for the 2021 unrest.

China is making extensive economic diplomacy efforts to encourage states to switch allegiance and has developed a keen interest in Pacific Island nations, long neglected by western powers. Its efforts are paying off, with Kiribati and Nauru also abandoning Taiwan in recent years. The Pacific Islands cover a vast oceanic territory, and a major Chinese foreign policy objective is to break up the island chains it sees as encircling it and constraining its reach. It’s long been suspected of coveting a naval base in Solomon Islands.

Further, while the populations may be small, each state has an equal vote in the United Nations, and the more allies China has, the more it can shield itself from criticism of its many human rights violations.

China didn’t just help pay for the Games. It provides direct funding to pro-government members of parliament, and has been accused of outrightly trying to bribe politicians. Daniel Suidani, a strong opponent of deals with China, claims to have been offered bribes to change his position. Suidani was premier of Malaita Province, until 2023, when he was ousted in a no-confidence vote following the central government’s apparent intervention. Police then used teargas against protesters who supported him.

China’s attempts to exert influence extend to the media. Last year, it was reported that the Solomon Star newspaper had received funding from the Chinese state in return for agreeing to publish pro-China content.

Disinformation favourable to China also circulated during the campaign. A Russian state-owned news agency falsely reported that the US government was planning what it called an ‘electoral coup’, a lie repeated by the Chinese Communist Party’s Global Times newspaper. During the campaign, Sogavare also doubled down on his support for China, heaping praise on its political system and suggesting that democracy might open the door to same-sex marriage, which he portrayed as incompatible with his country’s values.

At the same time as China’s media influence has grown, the Solomon Islands government has gained a reputation for attacking media freedoms. It took full control of the public broadcaster, the Solomon Islands Broadcasting Corporation, giving itself the power to directly appoint the broadcaster’s board, and made an attempt to vet all of its news and current affairs programmes, which it dropped after backlash. Following an investigation of relations with China by Australia’s public broadcaster, the government threatened to bar foreign journalists from entering the country if they run stories it deems ‘disrespectful’, accusing media of spreading ‘anti-China sentiments’.

Following criticism, the government also threatened to investigate civil society and accused civil society organisations of fraudulently receiving funds. It’s clear that the other side of the coin of closer relations with China has been growing hostility towards dissent.

Looking forward

China was far from the only issue in the campaign, and many voters emphasised everyday concerns such as the cost of living, the state of education, healthcare and roads, and the economy. Some criticised politicians for spending too much time talking about foreign policy – and will be judging the new government by how much progress it makes on these domestic issues.

The good news is that the vote appears to have been competitive, and so far there’s been no repeat of the post-election violence seen after the 2019 vote. That’s surely a positive to build on.

But Sogavare isn’t gone from politics, taking a new position as finance minister. Meanwhile, Manele, foreign minister in the old government and viewed as another pro-China figure, is unlikely to take a new foreign policy direction. But there’s some hope, at least for civil society, that he’ll be a less polarising and more conciliatory politician than Sogavare. The first test will be how the new government handles its relations with civil society and the media. The government should prove it isn’t in China’s pocket by respecting civic freedoms.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

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By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Apr 25 2024 (IPS)

A group of senior Swiss women recently won a powerful victory offering renewed hope for tackling climate change. Earlier this month, the European Court of Human Rights ruled that the government of Switzerland is violating human rights because it isn’t doing enough to cut greenhouse gas emissions.

Swiss women take the lead

More than 2,000 Swiss women with an average age of 73 backed the case, coming together in the KlimaSeniorinnen Schweiz (Senior Women for Climate Protection Switzerland) group. They argued that their rights to family life and privacy under the European Convention on Human Rights are being breached because they’re particularly vulnerable to premature death due to extreme heat.

The evidence from Europe’s recent heatwaves is grim: over 70,000 people are estimated to have died as a result of high temperatures in 2022. Older people are more vulnerable to heatwaves, with women the worst hit. In Switzerland, older women had the highest level of deaths during the 2022 heatwave.

The favourable ruling is a landmark. While there’ve been several judgments in favour of climate action by national-level courts in recent years, this is the first time the European Court has ruled that lack of action on climate change violates human rights, and the first time any international human rights court has recognised that people have a right to be protected from climate change.

We welcome the European Court of Human Rights @ECHR_CEDH ruling in #KlimaSeniorinnen case v. #Switzerland affirming that States have human rights obligations to sufficiently mitigate #climate change. Ruling provides a basis for determined action & justice globally – @volker_turk pic.twitter.com/NlSLzVMD3b

— UN Human Rights (@UNHumanRights) April 9, 2024

It won’t be the last. At least six more climate cases await the European Court, including one brought against the Norwegian government by Greenpeace Nordic, arguing that plans to expand fossil fuel extraction in Arctic waters violate human rights. National-level courts may also draw on the European Court’s precedent. More litigation is sure to follow.

Growing field

The case was one of three the Court considered, and the only to succeed. Lawsuits brought by a group of young Portuguese people against 32 European states and by a French politician against France were both dismissed – but on procedural grounds, rather than on the merits of the cases. The one victory was a triumph for all, since everyone will benefit from the emissions cuts that should result.

In many climate court cases, young people are making the running, rightly arguing that climate change affects them disproportionately, since it impinges on the rights of their future selves. But the young Portuguese campaigners acknowledged the vital contribution their older Swiss counterparts have made, showing how vital solidarity between generations is for civil society struggles.

Climate campaigners are making growing use of litigation to hold governments and corporations to account for their failure to act on the climate crisis. Over 1,500 climate litigation cases have been filed since the Paris Agreement was reached in 2015, and more than half have had favourable outcomes. There’s a growing trend of climate litigants framing their cases around human rights agreements they argue are being breached when governments and corporations don’t take adequate action.

Among recent successes, last November the Brussels Court of Appeal imposed a binding emissions cut target on Belgian authorities following a human rights lawsuit. That same month, a German court ruled that the government must immediately adopt an action programme on emissions targets for construction and transport. In August 2023, 16 young activists won a case in Montana, USA, with the court ruling that the state government’s policies in support of fossil fuels violate their right to a healthy environment.

Another breakthrough came in India this month when the country’s Supreme Court ruled that Indian citizens have a fundamental right to be free from the harmful impacts of climate change, on the basis that the constitution guarantees the rights to life and equality. Meanwhile human rights-based climate cases are currently proceeding in countries including Brazil, Peru and South Korea, where the Constitutional Court has just begun to hear a lawsuit brought by young people and children.

One of the rulings the Indian Supreme Court considered in coming to its conclusions was a 2015 verdict that ordered the Dutch government to take stronger action to cut greenhouse gas emissions, showing how a judgment in one jurisdiction can help build a case in another.

Open civic space needed

Legal action takes time. It took the Swiss campaigners almost eight years, having been required to exhaust all avenues offered by their domestic legal system reaching the European Court.

Litigation will remain just one of the many vital tools used by climate campaigners, alongside high-level advocacy towards national governments and in global processes such as COP climate summits, consumer pressure, shareholder activism, campaigns for fossil fuel divestment, street protests and non-violent direct action.

But at precisely the time civil society is showing how much it’s needed, its ability to act is being squeezed, particularly by restrictions on protest rights. It’s a sad fact that activists resisting fossil fuel extraction in many global south countries have long been repressed. But in a disturbing trend over the last couple of years, many global north states are targeting climate campaigners.

Recently, the German and Italian authorities have criminalised activists with laws against organised crime, police in the Netherlands have detained thousands of protesters and the UK government has passed anti-protest laws and jailed peaceful campaigners. These growing restrictions could have the effect of sapping the energies and depleting the ranks of the climate movement at a time when it’s needed the most.

European states should take heed of the European Court’s ruling, acknowledge that climate change is a human rights issue and commit to both cutting their emissions and respecting the civic space for climate activism.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

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