Credit: UN Photo/Manuel Elías

By Samuel King
BRUSSELS, Belgium, May 4 2026 (IPS)

In January, the government of Algeria succeeded in locking two civil society groups out of access to the United Nations (UN). It raised questions at the UN Committee on Non-Governmental Organizations, known as the NGO Committee, about two civil society groups with accreditation. It alleged that Italian organisation Il Cenacolo was making politically motivated statements at the UN Human Rights Council and the Geneva-based International Committee for the Respect and Implementation of the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights (CIRAC) was selling UN grounds passes. Four days later, it called a vote to revoke their status. Other states urged delay, but the no-action motion failed, and 11 of the body’s 19 members voted to recommend that the UN’s Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC) revoke Il Cenacolo’s accreditation and suspend CIRAC’s for a year.

As the primary gatekeeper for civil society participation at the UN, the NGO Committee controls ECOSOC consultative status, which allows organisations to attend UN meetings, submit written statements, make oral interventions, organise side events and access UN premises. Its mandate, set out in ECOSOC Resolution 1996/31, is straightforward: to facilitate civil society access to the UN system.

Such access is particularly valuable for organisations working in repressive contexts, where domestic advocacy is suppressed. It can mean the difference between a community’s concerns being silenced or becoming a matter of international record. In practice, however, the Committee has so consistently worked to obstruct rather than enable access that it is widely known as the ‘anti-NGO Committee’.

On 8 April, in an almost entirely uncompetitive vote, ECOSOC members elected 19 states to serve on the NGO Committee for four-year terms. Only 20 candidates ran for the 19 seats. UN states are organised into five regional blocs, and four of them presented closed slates, putting forward only as many candidates as the number of seats available.

As a result, the Asia-Pacific group selected China, India, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates (UAE), states with consistent track records of silencing civil society. Latin America and the Caribbean is represented by the likes of Cuba and Nicaragua, which suppress dissent and routinely detain critics. Four of the five African states elected have repressed or closed civic space. Two states elected from the Western European and Other States group, Israel and Turkey, have also recently intensified their repression of civic space.

The one exception was the Eastern European group, where Estonia and Ukraine won seats in a three-way contest, keeping out authoritarian Belarus, which received only 23 votes against Estonia’s 44 and Ukraine’s 38. As in 2022, when Russia lost a similar race, the result showed that competitive elections open up scrutiny and produce better outcomes. The problem is they rarely happen.

Overall, 13 of 19 newly elected states are rated as having closed or repressed civic space by the CIVICUS Monitor, our research initiative that tracks the conditions for civil society around the world. Only one, Estonia, has open civic space. Fourteen of the 20 candidates had been named as carrying out reprisals against people engaging with the UN.

In the run-up to the election, the International Service for Human Rights published scorecards assessing all 20 candidates against eight criteria; 12 of the 20 met none. Over 80 civil society organisations called on ECOSOC member states to hold competitive elections and vote for candidates committed to civil society access. Forty independent UN human rights experts, including special rapporteurs on human rights defenders and on countries including Afghanistan, Iran and Russia, issued a statement warning that Committee members were abusing the accreditation process to block access for human rights organisations. All these warnings went unheeded.

The withdrawal of accreditation from Il Cenacolo and CIRAC, which awaits ECOSOC confirmation, was unprecedented, but it sits within a long pattern of obstruction. At the Committee’s latest regular session in January, 618 applications were under consideration, 381 of which had been deferred from previous sessions.

The backlog is no accident. States ask repetitive questions about minor details and make short-notice requests for complex documentation to repeatedly delay applications until future sessions. States that repress civil society at home do the same in the international arena, targeting organisations that work on issues they deem controversial or opposed to their interests. Three states – China, India and Pakistan– stand out as the worst abusers of this mechanism, having asked almost half of the 647 questions posed to applicants during the January session. Repeated deferrals raise the costs for civil society organisations, draining financial resources and time.

The UN’s current financial crisis is compounding the problem. The consequences of funding cuts were visible at the latest session, when the question-and-answer session was cancelled following an early adjournment. The loss of the only opportunity for organisations seeking accreditation to engage directly with the Committee fell hardest on smaller organisations that had travelled to New York to take part.

The UN’s current cost-cutting drive could at least be used as an opportunity to push for online participation and other efficiency reforms to reduce the bureaucratic burden of repeated requests for information. Beyond this, there’s a need to reassert that the Committee’s function is supposed to be that of an enabler rather than an obstructor.

The NGO Committee determines whether the voices of communities facing repression and violence can be heard in the UN system, and it’s been hijacked by states with every interest in ensuring that they cannot. The floor can’t be left clear for states that repress civil society to act as gatekeepers. States that claim to support civil society must be willing to put themselves forward.

Samuel King is a researcher with the Horizon Europe-funded research project ENSURED: Shaping Cooperation for a World in Transition at CIVICUS: World Alliance for Citizen Participation.

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

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Credit: Ryan Brown/UN Women

By Inés M. Pousadela and Samuel King
MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay / BRUSSELS, Belgium, Mar 30 2026 (IPS)

On 19 March, the Commission on the Status of Women (CSW) did something unprecedented in its eight-decade history: it held a vote. The Trump administration, having spent two weeks attempting to defer, amend and ultimately block the session’s main outcome document, known as the agreed conclusions, cast the only vote against its adoption. That dissenting vote said a lot, as it came from the world’s most powerful government, backed by financial leverage, bilateral reach and a network of anti-rights states and organisations that are making inroads at many levels.

Established in 1946, the CSW brings together 45 states each year to negotiate commitments that, while not legally binding, shape domestic legislation, set international norms and signal the direction of political will. Civil society plays an important role in it: the NGO Committee on the Status of Women coordinates thousands of organisations, from large international bodies to grassroots groups, with the aim of ensuring those most affected by policy have a seat at the table. For several decades, this has been the closest thing the world has to a dedicated annual intergovernmental negotiation on women’s rights.

The assault on gender equality

The Trump administration arrived at CSW70 having withdrawn from UN Women in January and from its Executive Board in February, citing opposition to what it calls ‘gender ideology’. It submitted eight amendments targeting language on reproductive health. When these didn’t succeed, it attempted to defer or withdraw the conclusions entirely. When that too failed, it voted against adoption and tabled a separate resolution seeking to impose a restrictive definition of gender, effectively attempting to rewrite 30 years of carefully negotiated commitments. Its resolution was blocked.

At the Munich Security Conference in February, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio defined western civilisation as bound together by Christian faith, shared ancestry and cultural heritage, an ideological approach that treats women’s equality, reproductive rights and LGBTQI+ rights not as human rights but ideological impositions to be rejected. The Trump administration’s financial muscle is now the delivery mechanism for this worldview.

Defunding as a weapon

The immediate material crisis at CSW70 was the collapse of funding. The elimination of 90 per cent of USAID contracts wiped out US$60 billion in foreign aid. The USA is instead negotiating bilateral deals with 71 countries under its ‘America First’ global health strategy, extending its global gag rule not just to civil society organisations but to recipient governments. This means any institution that receives US health funding must certify that neither it nor any organisation it works with promotes or provides abortion.

Funding will now flow through faith-based groups, with ultra-conservative Christian organisations such as the Alliance Defending Freedom and Family Watch International set to benefit, having spent years building networks across Africa, Asia and Latin America. They use the language of family values, parental rights and national sovereignty to consolidate conservative influence over laws affecting women, LGBTQI+ people and young people. In many countries, they already have direct access to governments while progressive organisations are routinely excluded.

With threats intensifying, the UN is signalling retreat. A proposal under the UN80 cost-cutting initiative to merge UN Women with the UN Population Fund (UNFPA) has alarmed civil society worldwide. The stated rationale is efficiency, but there’s little overlap between the two agencies and their combined budgets make up a small part of the UN’s overall spending, suggesting savings would be modest. It’s hard to escape the conclusion that the targeting of these organisations reflects the increasing contestation of their rights-based mandates rather than any logic of organisational efficiency.

Over 500 civil society organisations signed an open letter to UN Secretary-General António Guterres warning that, when sexual and reproductive health rights are absorbed into broader mandates, they risk ‘being deprioritised, underfunded, or rendered politically invisible’. Some states have urged caution but so far none has committed to blocking the merger.

Civil society holds the line

In difficult times, over 4,600 civil society delegates attended CSW70 and made their presence count. They took the floor to name structural barriers and demand accountability: youth representatives challenged the normalisation of online violence, Pacific Island delegates described how geography compounds the denial of justice for survivors, and activists from Haiti documented the labour exploitation of migrant domestic workers. They all emphasised that when women’s rights organisations are restricted or defunded, survivors lose their primary pathway to justice.

The NGO CSW Forum hosted over 750 events alongside the official session. But not everyone could participate. US visa restrictions meant several women’s rights activists, particularly from the global south, couldn’t enter the country. This is a worsening problem that limits civil society’s ability to engage.

CIVICUS’s newly released 2026 State of Civil Society Report documents exactly what civil society has been up against: institutions built to protect women’s rights under sustained, coordinated attack, their funding cut, their mandates targeted and the human rights values they are built on reopened for revision. CSW70’s agreed conclusions offer hope, committing states to action on AI governance, discriminatory laws, digital justice, labour rights, legal aid and the formal recognition of care workers. But as the contest over them made plain, political will is running low and the anti-rights community is emboldened. Civil society left CSW70 without losing ground – and this seems to be the measure of success in the regressive times we live in.

Inés M. Pousadela is CIVICUS Head of Research and Analysis, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report. She is also a Professor of Comparative Politics at Universidad ORT Uruguay.

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Credit: Michaela Stache/AFP

By Samuel King
BRUSSELS, Belgium, Mar 20 2026 (IPS)

When German Chancellor Friedrich Merz opened the 62nd Munich Security Conference by declaring that the post-war rules-based order ‘no longer exists’, there was plenty of evidence to back his claim. Israel is committing genocide in Gaza in defiance of international law, Russia is four years into its illegal invasion of Ukraine, the last nuclear arms control treaty between Russia and the USA has just expired and the USA has withdrawn from 66 international bodies and commitments. Since the conference, Israel and the USA have launched another war on Iran, threatening to spark a broader regional conflict. Meanwhile the UN is undergoing a funding crisis, cutting staff and programmes, and civil society organisations that relied on US Agency for International Development funding are facing closure.

Inaugurated in 1963 as a transatlantic defence meeting, the Munich Security Conference has grown into the most significant annual global security meeting, with heads of state, foreign ministers, civil society, think tanks and the media taking part. The 2026 edition focused on the theme ‘Under Destruction’ and convened over 1,000 participants from more than 115 countries, including over 60 national leaders, alongside China’s Foreign Minister Wang Yi, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio and the directors of multiple UN agencies.

The conference’s Munich Security Report 2026 provided the analytical backdrop. It argued that the world has entered a period of ‘wrecking-ball politics’, with the post-1945 order being demolished by political forces that prefer disruption to reform. The report’s Munich Security Index showed the scale of the crisis. In France, Germany and the UK, absolute majorities of respondents said their government’s policies would leave future generations worse off. Across most BRICS and G7 countries, the USA is now rated as a growing risk.

In the build-up the conference, the world had been bracing for Rubio’s keynote address. Last year, US Vice President JD Vance’s aggressive speech accused European governments of suppressing free speech and aligning with political extremism, with no apparent acknowledgement of irony. Rubio took a more conciliatory tone, calling Europe America’s ‘cherished allies and oldest friends’. European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen said she was ‘very much reassured’. Half the hall rose to applaud.

The substance of the speech, however, followed every position Vance advanced the year before. Rubio defined the transatlantic relationship not around shared democratic institutions or international law, but around ‘Christian faith, culture, heritage, language, and ancestry’. This framing drew anger from global south delegates, who understood its explicit claim of global north cultural and racial superiority, excluding the majority of humanity.

The Trump administration was making a strategic calculation, having evidently concluded that Vance’s confrontational tone had backfired, bringing Europe closer to China and making it more reluctant to endorse US-led initiatives. So it switched to a softer messenger without changing the message.

Rubio’s post-conference itinerary made the USA’s current priorities clear. He flew directly from Munich to Budapest and Bratislava to meet two nationalist leaders, Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán and Slovak Prime Minister Robert Fico. Both are pro-Trump and friendly towards Vladimir Putin. These are the European politicians the Trump administration considers its true allies. Now the USA is planning to fund right-wing think tanks and charities across Europe in a blatant attempt to influence the continent’s politics.

Friedrich Merz’s diagnosis led to a historic and disturbing move: he and French President Emmanuel Macron announced they’d begun talks on extending France’s nuclear umbrella to cover other European countries. This is a development it would have been hard to imagine just a year ago. For decades European countries have based their security policies on NATO and its article 5, the collective defence commitment. But the Trump administration has threatened not to respect article 5, driving European states to embark on the long and expensive process of detaching themselves from relying on NATO. Now this evidently includes the exploration of nuclear alternatives.

Von der Leyen described the move as a ‘European awakening’ and called for a ‘mutual defence clause’ to be brought to life. UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer called for ‘hard power’ and readiness to fight if necessary. Poland’s nationalist President Karol Nawrocki said his country should get nuclear weapons. By responding in this way to the unravelling of the multilateral order, European states are further weakening the norms of non-proliferation and arms control that the post-war order sought to sustain. Responding to crisis with a second nuclear arms race could bring still further instability. Spain’s Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez was the only European leader at the conference to warn against this.

The conference’s conclusion was that those who care about the international order must build new institutions, coalitions and frameworks that are fit for purpose and accountable to the people they are supposed to serve. This reasonable framing sidesteps crucial questions: whose interests institutions will serve, and who’s excluded as the blueprints are drawn.

Instead of a new nuclear arms race, European states’ reaction to the fraying of their old alliances with the USA must be anchored in human rights, genuine multilateralism and a commitment to international law. This will only happen if civil society is present as a partner at the table.

It’s clear the old order is broken, and those committed to human rights and opposed to militarisation and naked power politics can’t afford to be bystanders. Their responses need to be more assertive and inclusive. A new international architecture that continues to exclude civil society and sideline the global south will simply reproduce the structures that have failed to address today’s crises.

Samuel King is a researcher with the Horizon Europe-funded research project ENSURED: Shaping Cooperation for a World in Transition at CIVICUS: World Alliance for Citizen Participation.

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

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Credit: Jonathan Ernst/Reuters via Gallo Images

By Samuel King
BRUSSELS, Belgium, Feb 13 2026 (IPS)

The latest World Economic Forum made clear the current crisis of multilateralism. Over 60 heads of state and 800 corporate executives assembled in Davos under a ‘Spirit of Dialogue’ theme aimed at strengthening global cooperation, but it was preceded by a series of events pointing to a further unravelling of the international system.

On 3 January, Donald Trump launched an illegal military strike on Venezuela to abduct President Nicolás Maduro, which was widely condemned as a violation of international law. On 7 January, he signed an executive order withdrawing the USA from 66 international bodies and processes, including 31 UN entities, such as the UN Democracy Fund, the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change and UN Women. Then came the launch of Trump’s Board of Peace, evidently an attempt to supplant the UN Security Council. The country that helped build the multilateral system is walking away from the parts it doesn’t like and seeking to reshape the rest in its interests.

Trump’s approach to multilateralism is nakedly transactional. His administration engages with international processes only when they advance immediate US interests and withdraws from those that impose obligations. This disassociates multilateralism from its core principles: accountability over shared standards, equality among nations and universality. It encourages other states to follow suit.

This approach brings devastating financial impacts. US threats to defund international bodies have left institutions scrambling. UN development, human rights and peacekeeping programmes all depended heavily on US financial contributions. The World Health Organization faces shortfalls that threaten its ability to respond to health emergencies because the US government quit without paying its overdue contributions.

The USA’s closest allies aren’t safe. Trump threatened NATO member Denmark with 25 per cent tariffs unless it agreed to the USA’s purchase of Greenland, and suggested he might seize the territory by force. NATO’s Article 5 on collective defence – invoked only once, by the USA after 9/11 – lies in doubt. European states are reacting by seeking strategic autonomy, slashing development aid and reducing UN contributions while finding extra billions for military spending.

Problematic alternatives are looking to capitalise on crisis. At Davos, China positioned itself as the grown-up alternative to Trump, promoting its Friends of Global Governance initiative, a group of 43 mostly authoritarian states including Belarus, Nicaragua and North Korea.

The queue of heads of government meeting China’s leader Xi Jinping shows many states are pivoting this way. But it comes at a cost: in China’s vision of international cooperation, state sovereignty is paramount and there’s no room for international scrutiny of human rights or cooperation to promote democratic freedoms.

It’s the same story with the new Board of Peace. The body originated in a controversial November 2025 Security Council resolution establishing external governance for Gaza, but Trump clearly envisions a permanent, wider role for it. He chairs it in a personal capacity, with full power to veto decisions, set agendas and invite or dismiss members. Permanent membership costs US$1 billion, with the money’s destination unclear.

The Board’s draft charter makes no mention of human rights protections, contains no provisions for civil society participation and establishes no accountability mechanisms. Most members so far are autocratic states such as Belarus, Egypt and Saudi Arabia. Its credibility is further undermined by the fact that Israel has just joined, despite having made a mockery of international humanitarian law. More democratic states have declined invitations, mostly due to concerns about the body’s unclear relationship with the UN. Trump’s response was to threaten increased tariffs against France and withdraw Canada’s invitation. He has made clear he considers himself above international law, casting himself as a de facto world president able to resolve conflicts through personal power and pressure.

As the old order dissolves, civil society must play a critical role in defining what comes next. While the UN – particularly its Security Council, hamstrung by the use of veto powers by China, Russia and the USA – needs reform, it remains the only global framework built on formal equality and universal human rights. As the UN faces assault from those abandoning it or seeking to dilute its human rights mandate, civil society must mobilise to keep it anchored to its founding principles and challenge the hierarchies that exclude global south voices.

It falls on civil society to organise across borders to uphold international law, document violations of international humanitarian and human rights law and demand accountability. Not for the first time, civil society needs to win the argument that might doesn’t make right.

Samuel King is a researcher with the Horizon Europe-funded research project ENSURED: Shaping Cooperation for a World in Transition at CIVICUS: World Alliance for Citizen Participation.

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

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Credit: Denis Balibouse/Reuters via Gallo Images

By Samuel King
BRUSSELS, Belgium, Feb 6 2026 (IPS)

In early January, an emergency UN Security Council meeting on Venezuela followed a familiar path of paralysis. Members clashed over the US government’s abduction of Nicolás Maduro, with many warning it set a dangerous precedent, but no resolution came.

This wasn’t exceptional. In 2024, permanent members cast eight vetoes, the highest since 1986. In 2025, the Council adopted only 44 resolutions, the lowest since 1991. Deep divisions prevented meaningful responses to Gaza and to conflicts in Myanmar, Sudan and Ukraine.

Designed in 1945, the Security Council is the UN’s most powerful body, tasked with maintaining international peace and security, but also crucially protecting the privileged position of the most powerful states following the Second World War. Of its 15 members, 10 are elected for two-year terms, but five – China, France, Russia, the UK and the USA – are permanent and have veto powers. A single veto can block any resolution, regardless of global support. The Council’s anachronistic structure reflects and reproduces outdated power dynamics.

Since launching its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, Russia has continually used its veto despite breaching the UN Charter. On Gaza, the USA vetoed four ceasefire proposals before the Council passed Resolution 2728 in March 2024, 171 days into Israel’s assault. By then over 10,000 people had been killed.

When the Council is gridlocked, it means more suffering on the ground. Civilian protection fails, peace processes stall and human rights crimes go unpunished.

The case for reform

Since the UN was established, the number of member states has quadrupled and the global population has grown from 2.5 to 8 billion. But former colonial powers that represent a minority of the world’s population still hold permanent seats while entire continents remain unrepresented.

Calls for reform have been made for decades, but they face a formidable challenge: reform requires amendment of the UN Charter, a process that needs a favourable two-thirds General Assembly vote, ratification by two-thirds of member states and approval from all five permanent Council members.

The African Union has advanced the clearest demand. Emphasising historical justice and equal power for the global south, it calls for the Council to be expanded to 26 members, with Africa holding two permanent seats with full veto rights and five non-permanent seats.

India has been particularly vocal in demanding a greater role on a reformed Council. The G4 – Brazil, Germany, India and Japan – has proposed expansion to 25 or 26 members with six new permanent seats: two for Africa, two for Asia and the Pacific, one for Latin America and the Caribbean and one for Western Europe. New permanent members would gain veto powers after a 10-to-15-year review period.

Uniting for Consensus, a group led by Italy that includes Argentina, Mexico, Pakistan and South Korea, opposes the creation of new permanent seats, arguing this would simply expand an existing oligarchy. Instead, they propose longer rotating terms and greater representation for underrepresented regions.

The five permanent members show varying degrees of openness to reform. France and the UK support expansion with veto powers, while the USA supports adding permanent African seats but without a veto. China backs new African seats, but virulently opposes Japan’s permanent membership, while Russia supports reform in principle but warns against making the Council ‘too broad’.

These positions reflect competition and a desire to prevent rivals gaining power. Current permanent members fear diluted influence, while states that see themselves as rising powers want the status and sway that comes with Council membership.

Adding new members could help redress the imbalance against the global south, but wouldn’t necessarily make the Council more effective, accountable and committed to protecting human lives and human rights, particularly if more states get veto powers.

A French-Mexican initiative from 2015 offers a more modest path: voluntary veto restraint in mass atrocity situations. The proposal asks permanent members to refrain from vetoes in cases of crimes against humanity, genocide and war crimes. This complements efforts to increase the political costs of vetoes, including the Code of Conduct signed by 121 states and General Assembly Resolution 76/262, which requires debate whenever a veto is cast.

New challenges

Now a new challenge has emerged from the Trump administration, which recently launched the Board of Peace at the World Economic Forum in Davos. This has mutated from a temporary institution set up by a Security Council resolution to govern over Gaza into a seemingly permanent one that envisages a broader global role under Trump’s personal control. Its membership skews toward authoritarian regimes, and human rights don’t get a mention in its draft charter.

Instead of legitimising the Board of Peace, efforts should focus on Security Council reform to address the two fundamental flaws of representation and veto power. Accountability and transparency must also be enhanced. Civil society must have space to engage with the Council and urge states to prioritise the UN Charter over self-interest.

Some momentum exists. The September 2024 Pact for the Future committed leaders to developing a consolidated reform model. Since 2008, formal intergovernmental negotiations have addressed membership expansion, regional representation, veto reform and working methods. These became more transparent in 2023, with sessions recorded online, allowing civil society to track proceedings and challenge blocking states.

However, reform efforts faced entrenched interests, geopolitical rivalries and institutional inertia even before Trump started causing chaos. The UN faces a demanding 2026, forced to make funding cuts amid a liquidity crisis while choosing the next secretary-general. In such circumstances, it’s tempting to defer difficult decisions.

But the reform case is clear, as is the choice: act to make the Council fit for purpose or accept continuing paralysis and irrelevance, allowing it to be supplanted by Trump’s Board of Peace.

Samuel King is a researcher with the Horizon Europe-funded research project ENSURED: Shaping Cooperation for a World in Transition at CIVICUS: World Alliance for Citizen Participation.

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

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By Samuel King
BRUSSELS, Belgium, Sep 15 2025 (IPS)

Algorithms decide who lives and dies in Gaza. AI-powered surveillance tracks journalists in Serbia. Autonomous weapons are paraded through Beijing’s streets in displays of technological might. This isn’t dystopian fiction – it’s today’s reality. As AI reshapes the world, the question of who controls this technology and how it’s governed has become an urgent priority.

AI’s reach extends into surveillance systems that can track protesters, disinformation campaigns that can destabilise democracies and military applications that dehumanise conflict by removing human agency from life-and-death decisions. This is enabled by an absence of adequate safeguards.

Governance failings

Last month, the UN General Assembly adopted a resolution to establish the first international mechanisms – an Independent International Scientific Panel on AI and a Global Dialogue on AI Governance – meant to govern the technology, agreed as part of the Global Digital Compact at the Summit of the Future in September. This non-binding resolution marked a first positive step towards potential stronger regulations. But its negotiation process revealed deep geopolitical fractures.

Through its Global AI Governance Initiative, China champions a state-led approach that entirely excludes civil society from governance discussions, while positioning itself as a leader of the global south. It frames AI development as a tool for economic advancement and social objectives, presenting this vision as an alternative to western technological dominance.

Meanwhile, the USA under Donald Trump has embraced technonationalism, treating AI as a tool for economic and geopolitical leverage. Recent decisions, including a 100 per cent tariff on imported AI chips and purchase of a 10 per cent stake in chipmaker Intel, signal a retreat from multilateral cooperation in favour of transactional bilateral arrangements.

The European Union (EU) has taken a different approach, implementing the world’s first comprehensive AI Act, which comes into force in August 2026. Its risk-based regulatory framework represents progress, banning AI systems deemed to present ‘unacceptable’ risks while requiring transparency measures for others. Yet the legislation contains troubling gaps.

While initially proposing to ban live facial recognition technology unconditionally, the AI Act’s final version permits limited use with safeguards that human rights groups argue are inadequate. Further, while emotion recognition technologies are banned in schools and workplaces, they remain permitted for law enforcement and immigration control, a particularly concerning decision given existing systems’ documented racial bias. The ProtectNotSurveil coalition has warned that migrants and Europe’s racial minorities are serving as testing grounds for AI-powered surveillance and tracking tools. Most critically, the AI Act exempts systems used for national security purposes and autonomous drones used in warfare.

The growing climate and environmental impacts of AI development adds another layer of urgency to governance questions. Interactions with AI chatbots consume roughly 10 times more electricity than standard internet searches. The International Energy Agency projects that global data centre electricity consumption will more than double by 2030, with AI driving most of this increase. Microsoft’s emissions have grown by 29 per cent since 2020 due to AI-related infrastructure, while Google quietly removed its net-zero emissions pledge from its website as AI operations pushed its carbon footprint up 48 per cent between 2019 and 2023. AI expansion is driving construction of new gas-powered plants and delaying plans to decommission coal facilities, in direct contradiction to the need to end fossil fuel use to limit global temperature rises.

Champions needed

The current patchwork of regional regulations, non-binding international resolutions and lax industry self-regulation falls far short of what’s needed to govern a technology with such profound global implications. State self-interest continues to prevail over collective human needs and universal rights, while the companies that own AI systems accumulate immense power largely unchecked.

The path forward requires an acknowledgment that AI governance isn’t merely a technical or economic issue – it’s about power distribution and accountability. Any regulatory framework that fails to confront the concentration of AI capabilities in the hands of a few tech giants will inevitably fall short. Approaches that exclude civil society voices or prioritise national competitive advantage over human rights protections will prove inadequate to the challenge.

The international community must urgently strengthen AI governance mechanisms, starting with binding agreements on lethal autonomous weapons systems that have stalled in UN discussions for over a decade. The EU should close the loopholes in its AI Act, particularly regarding military applications and surveillance technologies. Governments worldwide need to establish coordination mechanisms that can effectively counter tech giants’ control over AI development and deployment.

Civil society must not stand alone in this fight. Any hopes of a shift towards human rights-centred AI governance depend on champions emerging within the international system to prioritise human rights over narrowly defined national interests and corporate profits. With AI development accelerating rapidly, there’s no time to waste.

Samuel King is a researcher with the Horizon Europe-funded research project ENSURED: Shaping Cooperation for a World in Transition at CIVICUS: World Alliance for Citizen Participation.

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

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By Samuel King and Inés M. Pousadela
BRUSSELS, Belgium / MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay, Jul 14 2025 (IPS)

Donald Trump’s bullying tactics ahead of NATO’s annual summit, held in The Hague in June, worked spectacularly. By threatening to redefine NATO’s article 5 – the collective defence provision that has anchored western security since 1949 – Trump won commitments from NATO allies to almost triple their defence spending to five per cent of GDP by 2035. European defence budgets will balloon from around US$500 billion to over US$1 trillion annually, essentially matching US spending levels.

This is a staggering shift. Some NATO members currently spend around 1.2 per cent of GDP on traditional defence items, making the leap to five per cent an extraordinary proposition. The UK alone is earmarking US$1.3 billion to restore tactical nuclear capabilities, while the European Union (EU) has approved a US$176 billion fund for joint defence projects. Member states will even be allowed to breach normal debt limits without penalty – a clear signal that defence spending now trumps all other priorities.

At a time when people across NATO countries struggle with living costs and feel public services have been cut to the bone, this remilitarisation threatens deeper economic insecurity. More military spending may mean less for education, healthcare and programmes supporting those most in need. The UK has already announced cuts to international aid, which a few years ago stood at 0.7 per cent of gross national income, to 0.3 per cent by 2027 to pay for defence, and other countries are following suit. The upshot will be a massive transfer of income from the world’s poorest people to politically powerful defence corporations, mostly based in the USA.

A further alarming aspect of NATO’s spending surge is what it lacks: meaningful transparency requirements or standardised oversight mechanisms. Defence procurement typically operates behind closed doors, so normal accountability rules don’t apply. Decisions are shrouded in secrecy, complex international supply chains make oversight harder and industry-government relationships blur ethical lines. The revolving door between officials and contractors compromises independent decision-making, while national security provides convenient cover for decisions that might not withstand public scrutiny.

Rapid spending increases will exacerbate these accountability problems. The pandemic showed that sudden shifts in state spending are rarely transparent and provide opportunities for corruption. As governments race to meet deadlines and pressure from Trump mounts to show immediate results, expedited procurement processes are likely to bypass normal checks and balances.

History offers sobering lessons. In Afghanistan, billions supposed to develop local defence capacity disappeared into ghost projects and phantom battalions. Corruption undermined military effectiveness by producing substandard equipment and compromising logistics networks, helping enable the Taliban’s rapid return to power. Ukraine’s experience provides another cautionary tale—despite intense international scrutiny since Russia’s invasion, it took years to root out corrupt networks that had captured large portions of the defence budget.

Meanwhile, Russia has spent decades honing its malign influence operations, using cash and networks of cronies to hollow out democratic processes in western states, including many NATO members. A defence spending boom with no accountability safeguards risks creating fresh vulnerabilities authoritarian states and organised criminal groups can exploit.

The solution is to democratise defence spending. Recent research on EU defence procurement reveals that more transparent military contracting consistently produces lower corruption levels. Countries with greater transparency spend money more efficiently, with fewer cost overruns and higher-quality equipment.

One of the most glaring gaps in NATO’s current approach is the absence of civil society from defence governance. Other government ministries routinely consult with civil society, but defence ministries make major spending decisions with minimal input from those who can ensure choices reflect real human security needs and democratic values.

Civil society organisations bring crucial capabilities governments often lack: the independence to ask difficult questions, the expertise to spot red flags in complex contracts and the persistence to follow money trails to politically sensitive destinations. Security encompasses more than troops and weapons – it includes building institutional resilience, defusing disinformation and strengthening democratic systems against attack, areas where civil society has much to contribute.

Effective oversight doesn’t mean revealing sensitive operational details or compromising security. It requires tracking financial flows, monitoring contractor performance and ensuring competitive bidding processes. Civil society groups have repeatedly demonstrated they can investigate defence spending without endangering national security.

Before the money starts flowing, NATO should establish a defence procurement transparency initiative that sets baseline standards for member states. This should include requirements for public disclosure of contract values and vendor selection criteria, covering procurement, exports, offset agreements and spending on AI, cyber capabilities and research and development. National parliaments must be empowered to scrutinise decisions, independent oversight bodies should be adequately resourced to follow the money and both should draw on civil society expertise.

Civil society needs to be protected and allowed access to monitor defence spending flows, and whistleblower protections for defence sector employees should be strengthened. As civil society organisations worldwide endure funding cuts, including because of the Trump administration’s evisceration of aid spending, any increase in defence spending mustn’t come at the cost of democracy and human rights.

NATO’s credibility, and ultimately its security, depends on reconciling human security with respect for democratic values. That will only be achieved if civil society is able to play its role.

Samuel King is a researcher with the Horizon Europe-funded research project ENSURED: Shaping Cooperation for a World in Transition at CIVICUS: World Alliance for Citizen Participation, and Inés M. Pousadela is CIVICUS Senior Research Specialist, writer at 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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Cover photo by OHCHR

By Samuel King and Inés M. Pousadela
BRUSSELS, Belgium / MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay, Jul 2 2025 (IPS)

When tanks rolled through Myanmar’s streets in 2021, civil society groups worldwide sounded the alarm. When Viktor Orbán systematically dismantled Hungary’s free press, democracy activists demanded international action. And as authoritarianism returns to Tanzania ahead of elections, it’s once again civil society calling for democratic freedoms to be respected.

Around the world, authoritarian populists have learned to maintain democratic language and rituals while gutting democracy’s substance. They hold fraudulent elections with no real opposition and crack down on civil society when it tries to uphold democratic freedoms. As a result, more than 70 per cent of the world’s population lives in countries where civic space is routinely repressed.

In response, over 175 civil society organisations and 500 activists have united behind a demand to help improve respect for democratic freedoms, calling on the UN to establish a Special Rapporteur on Democracy.

The proposal isn’t coming from diplomatic corridors or academia; it’s a grassroots call from the frontlines of a global democratic struggle. Democracy defenders who face harassment, imprisonment and violence have identified a gap in international oversight that emboldens authoritarians and lets down those fighting for democratic rights when they most need support.

Critical blind spots

While the UN investigates everything from torture to toxic waste through specialised rapporteurs, democracy – supposedly a core UN principle – receives no systematic international oversight. This is a blind spot civil society wants to change.

Today’s threats to democracy are often more subtle than outright coups and blatant election rigging. Repressive leaders have mastered the art of legal authoritarianism, using constitutional amendments to extend term limits, judicial re-engineering to capture courts and media laws to silence critics, all while maintaining a facade of democratic governance.

In countries from Belarus to Venezuela, elections have been turned into elaborate ceremonies emptied of competition. Even established democracies face growing challenges, with foreign influence and disinformation campaigns documented across dozens of recent elections, often amplified by AI that creates deepfakes faster than fact-checkers can debunk them.

The rise of right-wing populism across Europe and in the USA shows how easily democratic processes can elevate leaders who systematically undermine democratic institutions from within, weaponising the law to concentrate executive authority, criminalise opposition and restrict civic space.

These evolving threats expose fundamental gaps in how the international community monitors and responds to democratic regression. The proposed UN Special Rapporteur on Democracy would help fill this gap: unlike current mandates that focus on specific rights, this role would examine how democratic systems function as a whole.

Existing UN Special Rapporteurs have recognised the urgent need for dedicated democracy oversight, with the Special Rapporteurs on freedom of peaceful assembly and of association, freedom of opinion and expression, and the independence of judges and lawyers highlighting how democratic backsliding undermines the rights they’re mandated to protect.

A democracy rapporteur could investigate the full spectrum of threats that escape international attention: how electoral systems become compromised through legal manipulation, how parliamentary oversight gets systematically weakened while maintaining constitutional appearances, how judicial independence is eroded through seemingly legitimate reforms, and how meaningful participation beyond elections gets stifled through bureaucratic restrictions.

Crucially, the mandate could document not just obvious authoritarian crackdowns but the subtler forms of democratic erosion that often escape international notice until democratic institutions are compromised, offering early warnings about gradual processes that transform vibrant democracies into hollow shells.

Legal foundations

The proposal builds on solid legal foundations. Article 21 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights establishes that ‘public authority must derive from the will of the people’, while article 25 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights recognises every citizen’s right to participate in public affairs and vote in free, fair and clean periodic elections.

Regional mechanisms provide valuable precedents. The Inter-American Democratic Charter explicitly states that ‘the peoples of the Americas have a right to democracy and their governments have an obligation to promote and defend it’. Building on this, Guatemala has recently requested an advisory opinion to clarify whether democracy constitutes a fundamental human right and what tangible obligations this imposes on states.

These foundations provide an actionable definition of democracy that respects diverse democratic models while upholding universal principles, sidestepping cultural relativist arguments that some authoritarian governments use to avoid accountability.

Momentum building

The proposal has generated remarkable momentum. On the 75th anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, a broad coalition of civil society groups and think tanks published a joint statement calling for the appointment of a UN Special Rapporteur on Democracy.

Civil society leadership reflects widespread frustration among democracy activists who work under increasingly dangerous conditions and demand better institutional responses. Budget-conscious states should find this proposal attractive given the remarkable cost-effectiveness of the UN mandates system. Following standard UN practice, the new position would be unpaid, relying on voluntary funding from supportive states.

During its recent 58th session, the UN Human Rights Council adopted a resolution on human rights, democracy and the rule of law, conferring multilateral legitimacy on governments that want to support stronger democracy oversight. The window for action is open, but it won’t stay open indefinitely.

A test for international institutions

No single initiative will reverse global democratic decline. But this new role would enable systematic documentation, trend spotting and the sustained international attention democracy defenders desperately need. The rapporteur could investigate not just obvious authoritarian crackdowns but early signs of subtler democratic erosion, while highlighting innovations and good practices that others could adapt.

The debate over a UN Special Rapporteur on Democracy offers a test of whether international institutions can adapt to contemporary challenges or will remain trapped in outdated approaches while democracy crumbles. Creating this mandate would communicate that the international community takes democratic governance seriously enough to monitor it systematically – a signal that matters to democracy activists who need international support and serves as a warning to authoritarian leaders who thrive when nobody is watching.

With hundreds of civil society groups leading this charge from the frontlines of democratic struggle, the question isn’t whether this oversight is needed, but whether the UN will act before it’s too late.

Samuel King is a researcher with the Horizon Europe-funded research project ENSURED: Shaping Cooperation for a World in Transition at CIVICUS: World Alliance for Citizen Participation, and Inés M. Pousadela is CIVICUS Senior Research Specialist, writer at 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: WHO/Christopher Black

By Samuel King
BRUSSELS, Belgium, Jun 11 2025 (IPS)

When the next pandemic strikes, the world should be better prepared. At least, that’s the promise states made at the World Health Organization’s (WHO) World Health Assembly on 19 May when they adopted the first global pandemic treaty. This milestone in international health cooperation emerged from three years of difficult negotiations, informed by the harsh lessons learned from COVID-19’s devastating global impacts.

Yet this step forward in multilateralism comes at a deeply difficult moment. The WHO, as the organisation tasked with implementing the agreement, faces its starkest ever financial crisis following the withdrawal of the USA, its biggest donor. Meanwhile, disagreements between states threaten to undermine the treaty’s aspirations. Some of the big decisions that would make the experience of the next pandemic a more equitable one for the world’s majority are still to be negotiated.

A treaty born from COVID-19’s failures

Processes to negotiate the Pandemic Agreement came as a response to the disjointed international reaction to the COVID-19 pandemic. When the virus spread across borders, global north countries hoarded vaccines for their populations but left much of the world unprotected – an approach that as well as being manifestly unfair enabled the virus to further mutate. The treaty’s text emphasises the need for proper pandemic prevention, preparedness and response in all states, with the potential to enhance multilateral cooperation during health crises.

With 124 countries voting in favour, 11 abstaining and none voting against, many diplomats presented the agreement’s finalisation as a victory for global cooperation. It comes at a time when multilateralism is being severely tested, with powerful governments tearing up international rules, pulling out of international bodies and slashing funding. The window of opportunity to reach some kind of agreement was rapidly closing.

A major absence loomed large over the final negotiations. Upon his inauguration in January, President Trump announced the USA would withdraw from the WHO and halt all funding. The withdrawal of a superpower like the USA harms the WHO’s legitimacy and sends a signal to other populist governments that withdrawal is an option. Argentina is following its lead and Hungary may too.

Funding crisis

US withdrawal will leave an enormous funding gap. In the pre-Trump era, the USA was the WHO’s biggest contributor: it provided US$1.28 billion in 2022-2023, amounting to 12 per cent of the WHO’s approved budget and roughly 15 per cent of its actual budget.

As the treaty was agreed, WHO Director-General Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus painted a disturbing picture of the organisation’s financial situation. Its 2022-2023 budget showed a US$2 billion shortfall and its current salary gap is over US$500 million. The proposed budget for 2026-2027 has already been slashed by 21 per cent, and this reduced budget is expected to receive only around 60 per cent of the funding needed. The WHO will likely have to cut staff and close offices in many countries.

This reflects a lack of political will: states are making the choice of cutting down on global cooperation while boosting their defence spending. The current WHO funding gap of US$2.1 billion is the equivalent of just eight hours of global military expenditure.

Big issues kicked down the road

Deteriorating political realities made it crucial to reach an agreement as soon as possible, even if this meant kicking some difficult decisions down the road. As a result, the text of the agreement has severe weaknesses.

The treaty lacks dedicated funding and robust enforcement mechanisms, which means the blatant inequalities that defined the global response to COVID-19 are likely to remain unconfronted. It doesn’t tackle the most critical and contested issues, including the international sharing of pathogens and vaccine access.

The treaty will open for ratification following the negotiation of an annex on a pathogen access and benefit-sharing system, a process that could take a further two years. This means implementation is likely still a long way away.

The current impasse reflects an enduring faultline between global south states that need better access to affordable health products and technologies, and global north states siding with powerful pharmaceutical corporations that want their assets protected. Wealthy governments are making their decisions safe in the knowledge they’ll be at the front of the line when the next pandemic starts, while the world’s poorest people will again face the brunt of the devastation.

Political will needed

The Pandemic Agreement is a step forward at a time when international cooperation faces increasing attacks. That 124 countries demonstrated their commitment to multilateral action on global health threats offers hope. But substantial work remains if the treaty is to enable a truly global and fair response to the next health crisis.

For that to happen, the world’s wealthiest states need to put narrow self-interest calculations aside. States also need to address the issue of long-term funding. Right now, global leaders have agreed on the need for coordinated pandemic preparedness, but the institution meant to lead this doesn’t have the resources needed to put goals into action.

The next pandemic will test not just scientific capabilities, but also collective commitment to the shared global values the treaty is supposed to represent. Political will and funding are needed to turn lofty aspirations into meaningful action.

Samuel King is a researcher with the Horizon Europe-funded research project ENSURED: Shaping Cooperation for a World in Transition at CIVICUS: World Alliance for Citizen Participation.

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Cover photo by Defensoría del Pueblo de Bolivia

By Samuel King and Inés M. Pousadela
BRUSSELS, Belgium / MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay, May 9 2025 (IPS)

The world’s population is ageing. Global life expectancy has leapt to 73.3 years, up from under 65 in 1995. Around the world, there are now 1.1 billion people aged 60-plus, expected to rise to 1.4 billion by 2030 and 2.1 billion by 2050.

This demographic shift is a triumph, reflecting public health successes, medical advances and better nutrition. But it brings human rights challenges.

Ageism casts older people as burdens, despite the enormous social contribution many older people make through family roles, community service and volunteering. Prejudice fuels widespread human rights violations, including age discrimination, economic exclusion, denial of services, inadequate social security, neglect and violence.

The impacts are particularly brutal for those facing discrimination for other reasons. Older women, LGBTQI+ elders, disabled seniors and older people from other excluded groups suffer compounded vulnerabilities. During conflicts and climate disasters, older people face disproportionate hardships but receive disproportionately little attention or protection.

These challenges aren’t limited to wealthy countries such as Japan, where more than one in 10 people are now aged 80 and over. Global south countries are experiencing population ageing too, and often at a much faster pace than occurred historically in the global north. Many people face the daunting prospect of becoming old in societies with limited infrastructure and social protection systems to support them.

Despite these escalating challenges, no global human rights treaty specifically protects older people. The current international framework is a patchwork that looks increasingly out of step as global demographics shift.

The first significant international breakthrough came in 2015, when the Organization of American States adopted the Inter-American Convention on Protecting the Human Rights of Older Persons. This landmark treaty explicitly recognises older people as rights-bearers and establishes protections against discrimination, neglect and exploitation. It demonstrates how legal frameworks can evolve to address challenges faced by ageing populations, although implementation remains uneven across signatory countries.

Globally, the World Health Organization’s Decade of Healthy Ageing (2021-2030) represents progress in promoting age-friendly environments and responsive healthcare systems. But it’s a voluntary framework without legally enforceable protections. Only a binding treaty can deliver human rights guarantees.

That’s why the UN Human Rights Council’s decision on 3 April to establish an intergovernmental working group to draft a convention on older persons’ rights offers real hope. In the current fractured geopolitical landscape, the resolution’s adoption by consensus is encouraging.

This positive step came as a result of over a decade of dogged advocacy through the Open-ended Working Group on Ageing, established by the UN General Assembly in 2010. Through 14 sessions, states, civil society and national human rights institutions built an overwhelming case for action, culminating in an August 2024 recommendation to develop a treaty. Strategic cross-border campaigning and coalition-building by civil society organisations such as AGE Platform Europe, Amnesty International and HelpAge International were instrumental in advancing the cause.

Now the crucial phase of transforming principles into binding legal protection begins. The Human Rights Council resolution sets out the path forward. The first meeting of the drafting working group is due before the year’s end. Once drafted, the text will advance through the UN system for consideration and adoption. If adopted, this convention will follow in the footsteps of those on the rights of children in 1989 and people with disabilities in 2006, which have significantly advanced protections for their target groups.

This convention offers a rare opportunity to redefine how societies value their older members. The journey from declaration to implementation will demand persistent civil society advocacy, first to ensure the text of the convention delivers meaningful, enforceable protections rather than mere aspirational statements, and then to prevent the dilution of protections through limited implementation. But the potential reward is profound: a world where advancing age enhances rather than diminishes human dignity and rights.

Samuel King is a researcher with the Horizon Europe-funded research project ENSURED: Shaping Cooperation for a World in Transition and Inés M. Pousadela is Senior Research Specialist at CIVICUS: World Alliance for Citizen Participation, writer at 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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