Mangroves, reefs and coastal ecosystems are more than natural assets — they are frontline climate solutions. Across Pacific villages, including Naidiri on Fiji’s Coral Coast, these systems are helping reduce erosion, protect livelihoods and support long-term resilience. Credit: Ludovic Branlant/SPC

By Sera Sefeti
NAIDIRI, FIJI, Apr 17 2026 (IPS)

Climate change is no longer a distant threat. Across the Pacific, it is a daily reality reshaping coastlines, livelihoods, and the delicate balance between people and the environment. But in a region long defined by resilience, solutions are not being invented from scratch. They are being remembered, strengthened, and scaled. Nature-based solutions (NbS) approaches that use ecosystems to address climate, disaster, and development challenges have always existed in Pacific communities. For generations, villages have relied on mangroves, agroforestry, and customary practices to protect their land and sustain their people. But as climate impacts intensify, the scale and speed of change demand more.

Now, a new regional effort is working to bridge the gap between tradition and modern policy.

The Pacific Community’s Promoting Pacific Islands Nature-based Solutions (PPIN) project is designed to do exactly that: connect what communities already know with the systems that govern development and investment.

Dr Rakeshi Lata, Training and Capacity Building Officer for Nature-based Solutions at SPC, explains that the project is not about replacing traditional knowledge but elevating it.

“It functions as a bridge connecting community practices with national policies to secure resources and scale up proven local methods,” said Lata.

Naidiri village on Fiji’s Coral Coast shows how nature-based Solutions are put into practice, with communities restoring mangroves and reefs to protect their coastline and sustain livelihoods. Credit: Ludovic Branlant/SPC

At its core, PPIN challenges a long-standing imbalance in development thinking where engineered, “grey” infrastructure is prioritised, and nature is treated as secondary.

“More specifically, PPIN addresses the fact that Pacific countries are highly vulnerable to climate change, disasters, and ecosystem degradation, yet development decisions still prioritise grey, engineered solutions while nature is treated as secondary or only an environmental issue,” Lata said.

This disconnect is especially stark in the Pacific, where people’s lives, cultures, and economies are deeply intertwined with the natural environment. When ecosystems fail, communities feel it immediately through food insecurity, coastal erosion, and increased disaster risks.

Yet despite the proven value of nature-based solutions, their adoption has remained limited—often fragmented, underfunded, and confined to small pilot projects.

“There is limited policy integration, technical capacity, economic evidence, and financing to make NbS ‘business as usual’ across sectors such as infrastructure, finance, agriculture, forestry, fisheries, and tourism,” Lata said.

That gap between what works locally and what is scaled nationally is where PPIN steps in.

Importantly, the project rejects the idea that traditional knowledge and modern science are in competition.

“The core philosophy of PPIN is that traditional knowledge and modern policy are not opposing forces but complementary strengths, this project aims to formalise what communities have already been practising successfully for centuries,” she said.

“PPIN actively incorporates modern science to strengthen traditional approaches.”

Across Fiji, Vanuatu, and Tonga, this integration is already visible not in theory but in practice.

Mangrove restoration, for example, is being used to reduce coastal erosion and storm surges, offering a natural alternative to costly seawalls. During Cyclone Vaiana in Fiji, boats sought shelter within mangrove systems, shielded from powerful winds and waves,  an example of ecosystem protection delivering real-time resilience.

These same mangroves also trap sediment, protecting downstream communities and coral reefs without the need for concrete infrastructure.

In rural areas, traditional agroforestry systems are being strengthened, combining trees and crops to improve soil stability, enhance food security, and build drought resilience. These systems reduce the need for engineered irrigation and land stabilisation while maintaining ecological balance.

Despite these successes, scaling such solutions has historically been difficult. Fragmented governance, siloed implementation across ministries and NGOs, and limited technical capacity have slowed progress.

Coral restoration helps rebuild reef ecosystems that protect Pacific coastlines, support fisheries and sustain community livelihoods. Credit: Ludovic Branlant/SPC

PPIN is designed to dismantle these barriers.

“A central pillar of PPIN is targeted capacity-building, which includes training programmes and communities of practice by establishing peer-to-peer learning networks focusing on specific sectors to foster continued knowledge exchange and collaboration,” she said.

Beyond policy integration, the project is investing in people, particularly those closest to the land.

Training programmes, including Farmers’ Field Schools and coastal resilience initiatives, focus on practical, livelihood-based applications of NbS. Participants gain hands-on skills in climate-smart and organic farming, linking ecosystem health directly to food production and household wellbeing.

The response has been strong. Women make up more than half of participants over 80 out of 146 with youth and community practitioners also actively engaged.

As the project moves toward closure, its legacy is already taking shape not just in outcomes but also in systems that will endure.

“To ensure sustainability and long-term accessibility, materials from trainings, technical guidance, needs assessment findings and more are being consolidated and hosted within a regional NbS knowledge hub led by SPREP,” Lata said.

“This hub provides a single, trusted platform where governments, practitioners, communities, women and youth can access the PPIN resources.”

But perhaps its most lasting impact will be less tangible and more powerful.

“Beyond materials, PPIN leaves behind strengthened regional networks and communities of practice, which will continue to connect practitioners across countries and sectors.”

In a region on the frontline of climate change, the future may not lie in choosing between tradition and science but in weaving them together.

Because in the Pacific, resilience has never been built on one system alone. It is carried across generations, across knowledge systems, and now, increasingly, across policy and practice.

IPS UN Bureau Report

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

 
CIVICUS discusses the spread of AI-powered surveillance in Africa with Wairagala Wakabi, executive director of the Collaboration on International ICT Policy for East and Southern Africa (CIPESA) and co-editor of Smart City Surveillance in Africa: Mapping Chinese AI Surveillance Across 11 Countries, the latest report by the African Digital Rights Network (ADRN) and the Institute of Development Studies (IDS).

Wairagala Wakabi

How widespread is AI-powered surveillance in Africa?

Under the guise of reducing crime and fighting terrorism, at least 11 governments have invested over US$2 billion in AI-powered ‘smart city’ surveillance infrastructure: Algeria, Egypt, Kenya, Mauritius, Mozambique, Nigeria, Rwanda, Senegal, Uganda, Zambia and Zimbabwe.

Governments are installing thousands of CCTV cameras linked to central command centres, paired with tools such as automatic number-plate recognition, biometric ID systems and facial recognition to track people and vehicles. The largest known investments are in Nigeria (over US$470 million), Mauritius (US$456 million) and Kenya (US$219 million), though the real total is likely much higher, since surveillance spending is often secret and the report covers only 11 of Africa’s 55 countries.

Despite being presented as tools for crime prevention, counter-terrorism, modernisation and urban management, these are not targeted security measures. They represent a broader shift toward continuous, population-level monitoring of public spaces, rolled out over the past five to ten years almost always without clear legal limits or public debate.

Are these systems achieving their stated purpose?

No, there is no compelling evidence that they have in any of the countries studied. Instead, the data points to a pattern of use that raises serious human rights concerns.

In Uganda and Zimbabwe, AI-powered surveillance including facial recognition is being used to suppress dissent rather than ensure public safety. Activists, critics of the government, opposition leaders and protesters are identified and monitored through this system, even after protests have ended. In Mozambique, smart CCTV systems have reportedly been installed in areas of strong political opposition, suggesting targeted rather than neutral surveillance.

In Senegal and Zambia, countries with relatively low terrorism threats, governments have still invested heavily, which calls into question the stated security rationale.

Across the countries studied, the scale of surveillance far exceeds any actual or perceived security threat, and the infrastructure is consistently being used to monitor dissent and consolidate state control rather than address genuine public safety needs.

Who’s supplying this technology?

While firms from Israel, South Korea and the USA supply surveillance technologies, Chinese companies are the primary suppliers and financiers. They typically offer end-to-end ‘smart city’ packages that include cameras, software platforms, data analytics systems, training and ongoing technical support. Many projects are backed by loans from Chinese state-linked banks, which makes them financially accessible in the short term but creates long-term dependencies on external vendors for maintenance, system management and upgrades.

This model undermines transparency. Procurement processes are opaque and civil society, the public and oversight institutions including parliaments rarely have information about how these systems operate, how data is stored or who has access to it. That lack of accountability is what makes abuse not just possible, but hard to detect or challenge.

What impact is this having on civic space?

This large-scale surveillance of public spaces is not legal, necessary or proportionate to the legitimate aim of providing security. Recording, analysing and retaining facial images of people in public without their consent interferes with their right to privacy and, over time, their willingness to move, assemble and speak freely.

The most immediate consequence is a chilling effect, particularly where civic space is already restricted. Knowing they can be identified and tracked, activists and journalists are less willing to attend protests for fear of later arrest or reprisals, and end up self-censoring. Civil society organisations also report heightened anxiety about the risks for their members and partners.

What should governments and civil society do?

None of the 11 countries studied have a legal framework capable of balancing the state’s security needs with its commitments to protect fundamental human rights. That must change. Governments must adopt clear regulations on surveillance, including restrictions on facial recognition and other AI tools, require independent human rights impact assessments before introducing new systems, make procurement and deployment processes transparent and establish strong oversight mechanisms, including judicial and parliamentary scrutiny, to prevent abuse.

Civil society should continue documenting abuses, raising public awareness and advocating for accountability, while also supporting affected people and communities through digital security support and legal assistance.

Technology-exporting states and donors must enforce stricter controls and safeguards on the export and financing of these tools, support rights-based approaches to digital governance and help fund independent monitoring and advocacy across Africa.

Without urgent action, these systems will continue to expand, and the rights of people across Africa will continue to shrink.

CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent.

GET IN TOUCH
CIPESA/Website
CIPESA/Facebook
CIPESA/LinkedIn
CIPESA/Twitter
ADRN/Website
ADRN/Facebook
ADRN/Twitter
IDS/Website
IDS/BlueSky
IDS/Facebook
IDS/Instagram
IDS/LinkedIn

SEE ALSO
Technology: innovation without accountability CIVICUS | State of Civil Society Report 2026
AI governance: the struggle for human rights CIVICUS Lens 11.Sep.2025
Facial recognition: the latest weapon against civil society CIVICUS Lens 23.May.2025

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

The GEF actively supports climate resilience and sustainable livelihoods in Zanzibar, with a specific focus on the seaweed farming sector, which is crucial for over 20,000 farmers—mostly women—in the region. Here a woman identified as Jazaa is pictured working as a seaweed farmer. She carefully attaches little seaweed seedlings to the rope that she will harvest after two months. Credit: Natalija Gormalova/Climate Visuals Countdown

By Umar Manzoor Shah
SRINAGAR, India, Apr 16 2026 (IPS)

The Global Environment Facility, widely known as the GEF, plays a central role in financing environmental protection across the world. It supports developing countries in tackling climate change, biodiversity loss, land degradation, pollution, and threats to ecosystems.

Since its establishment in the early 1990s, the GEF has grown as a multilateral environmental fund, supporting projects in more than 170 countries.

Over time, the GEF has evolved into what it calls a “family of funds”, each targeting a specific global environmental challenge while operating under a shared strategic framework.

This explainer looks at how the GEF funding works, the origins of its financing model, and the role of six major funds that channel resources toward global environmental goals.

While the GEF predates the 1992 Rio ‘Earth’ Summit, its importance as a financial mechanism grew after the summit. Here UN Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali opens the Rio Earth Summit in 1992, which aimed to develop a global blueprint for balancing economic development with environmental protection. Credit: Michos Tzavaras/UN Photo

Origins of the GEF Funding Model

The GEF was created in 1991, before the Rio ‘Earth’ Summit in 1992, which aimed to develop a global blueprint for balancing economic development with environmental protection; however, its importance grew after the summit.

The Rio Summit produced three major environmental conventions. These were the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC), the Convention on Biological Diversity, and, later in 1994, the Convention to Combat Desertification. The GEF became the financial mechanism for these agreements, meaning it mobilises and distributes funds to help countries implement them.

Over the past 35 years, the GEF has expanded its mandate. Today it supports multiple conventions and environmental initiatives through a structured set of trust funds. This architecture allows the facility to coordinate funding across different environmental priorities while maintaining specialised programs for each global commitment.

The Global Environment Facility (GEF) is now focusing on solving environmental problems together instead of separately. It looks at climate change, biodiversity loss, and pollution as connected issues and works with governments, international groups, civil society, and businesses to address them.

The GEF Trust Fund was initially created to support multiple environmental agreements simultaneously. Over time, countries preferred more specific funding for their particular needs.

Because of these changes, the GEF now has different funds, each designed for different purposes and methods of giving money.

Some funds – like the Trust Fund, the Least Developed Countries Fund (LDCF), and part of the Special Climate Change Fund (SCCF) – use a system that helps countries know in advance how much funding they can expect.

The GEF Trust Fund

The Global Environment Facility Trust Fund is the main source of funds for the GEF. It provides grants to support environmental projects in developing countries.

The Trust Fund finances activities across several environmental areas.

These include

• Biodiversity conservation,
• Climate change mitigation,
• Land degradation control,
• International waters management, and
• Chemicals and waste reduction.

Countries receive funding through a system known as the System for Transparent Allocation of Resources, or STAR, which distributes funds based on their environmental needs and eligibility.

Projects funded by the Trust Fund often focus on creating global environmental benefits. These may include:

• Protecting endangered species,
• Restoring ecosystems,
• Reducing greenhouse gas emissions, and
• Improving pollution management systems.

The Trust Fund operates through periodic “replenishment” cycles. Donor countries pledge new contributions every four years, which allows the GEF to finance programs during the next funding period. For example, the GEF-9 cycle will cover the period from July 2026 to June 2030 and focus on scaling up environmental investments while mobilising private capital and strengthening country ownership of environmental policies.

The Global Environment Facility (GEF) has created Integrated Programs. These are special programs designed to address multiple environmental goals at the same time in a more coordinated and efficient way.

For example, the Food Systems Integrated Program does not fund separate projects for climate change, biodiversity, and land degradation. Instead, it combines them into one unified project, which helps achieve stronger and longer-lasting results while making better use of funding.

The GEF helps fund biodiversity across the globe, helping to create conditions to prevent the further endangerment of species like the Sumatran Orangutan (Pongo abelii). Credit: Thomas Gabernig/Unsplash

Global Biodiversity Framework Fund

The Global Biodiversity Framework Fund is a relatively new component of the GEF family of funds. It was created to help countries implement the Kunming Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework, which was adopted in 2022 under the Convention on Biological Diversity.

The biodiversity framework sets ambitious targets for protecting nature by 2030. Its most prominent targets include the “30 by 30” target, which calls for protecting at least 30 percent of the world’s land and ocean areas by the end of the decade.  The Framework also sets a 30 percent target for the restoration of ecosystems and a target of mobilising 30 billion dollars in international financial flows to developing countries for biodiversity action.

The Global Biodiversity Framework Fund supports actions that help countries meet these targets.

Actions that are supported include the following:

• Expanding protected areas,
• Restoring degraded ecosystems,
• Protecting endangered species, and
• Strengthening biodiversity monitoring.

Another important focus is the integration of biodiversity into economic planning. Many projects supported by this fund work with governments and businesses to match financial flows with biodiversity goals. This means reducing financial support for activities that damage the environment and encouraging more sustainable farming, forestry, and fishing practices.

By providing targeted financing for biodiversity commitments, the fund helps translate global agreements into practical actions at the national and local levels.

It is also important to highlight that the fund sets a target of providing at least 20% of its resources to support actions by Indigenous Peoples and local communities. This form of direct financing is unique for a multilateral environmental fund.  To date, this target has been exceeded and mechanisms such as the Green Climate Fund and the Tropical Forest Forever Facility are considering replicating this approach.

GEF-9 biodiversity investments will bring together four interconnected pathways:

• Scaling up financial flows to close the nature financing gap,
• Embedding environmental priorities in national development strategies,
• Mobilising private capital through blended finance, and
• Empowering Indigenous Peoples, local communities, and civil society as active conservation partners.

“A renewed emphasis on the Forest Biomes Integrated Program will continue directing investment into the landscapes most critical for achieving 30×30 – ensuring that GEF financing remains focused where the stakes are highest,” said Chizuru Aoki, the head of the GEF Conventions and Funds Division.

Medicinal and aromatic plant species, such as the baobab, are often exploited; however, the Nagoya Protocol on Access and Benefit Sharing aims to ensure fair use of the planet’s genetic resources and secure benefits for Indigenous knowledge holders. Credit Noah Grossenbacher/Unsplash

Nagoya Protocol Implementation Fund

The Nagoya Protocol Implementation Fund supports countries in implementing the Nagoya Protocol on Access and Benefit Sharing. This international agreement, part of the Convention on Biological Diversity, aims to make sure that the genetic resources of the planet are used fairly and equitably, with benefits shared with those who provide them.

Genetic resources include plants, animals, and microorganisms that are used in research and commercial products such as medicines, cosmetics, and agricultural technologies. Historically, many developing countries have expressed concerns that companies and researchers benefit from these resources without sharing profits or knowledge.

The Nagoya Protocol fixes these issues by requiring users to do the following:

• Get permission from the country providing the resources, and
• Agree on how benefits (like money or knowledge) will be shared.

The fund supports countries by helping them:

• Create laws and rules for using genetic resources,
• Improve monitoring systems, and
• Build skills among researchers and policymakers.

Projects funded also support Indigenous peoples and local communities, who often hold traditional knowledge associated with biological resources. Protecting this knowledge and ensuring fair compensation is a key objective of the Nagoya framework.

Least Developed Countries Fund

The Least Developed Countries Fund focuses on supporting climate adaptation in the world’s most vulnerable nations. These countries often face severe environmental risks but lack the finances and systems to respond efficiently.

The fund supports the preparation and implementation of National Adaptation Programs of Action and National Adaptation Plans. These are country-specific strategies that identify the most urgent climate risks facing each country and outline measures to reduce vulnerability.

Typical projects include the following:

• Strengthening climate-resilient agriculture,
• Improving water management systems,
• Protecting coastal zones, and
• Building early warning systems for extreme weather events.

Because many least developed countries face multiple environmental issues at once, the fund often supports integrated projects that address climate change alongside biodiversity conservation and land management.

This funding system makes sure that the poorest and most vulnerable countries get the help they need to deal with climate change, even though they did very little to cause it.

Villagers in Nyamisati, Rufiji District, wade through muddy tidal flats to plant mangrove seedlings—part of a grassroots effort to curb saline intrusion that has begun to poison nearby rice paddies as saltwater seeps underground. The initiative reflects growing local responses to environmental degradation driven by human activity along Tanzania’s coast. The GEF supports projects like these that help mitigate the impacts of climate change. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

Special Climate Change Fund

The Special Climate Change Fund supports climate action in developing countries and works alongside the Least Developed Countries Fund.

While the Least Developed Countries Fund focuses on the poorest nations, this fund helps other developing countries that are also affected by climate change.

It supports projects that:

• Help countries prepare for climate impacts,
• Include climate planning in development and infrastructure,
• Improve water management and agriculture.
• Reduce disaster risks, and
• Promote environmentally friendly technologies.

The SCCF also, in some cases, supports mitigation efforts, particularly when they involve innovative technologies that reduce greenhouse gas emissions. By financing both adaptation and mitigation initiatives, the fund contributes to global efforts to stabilise the climate system.

Capacity Building Initiative for Transparency Trust Fund

The Capacity Building Initiative for Transparency Trust Fund supports countries in implementing transparency requirements under the Paris Agreement.

Under this agreement, countries must regularly report their greenhouse gas emissions and track their progress on climate goals. However, many developing countries do not have the tools or skills to do this properly.

This fund helps by supporting:

• Training for government officials,
• Creation of national emissions data systems, and
• Better monitoring and reporting methods.

Strong reporting systems are important because they:

• Help track climate progress,
• Build trust between countries, and
• Ensure countries meet their commitments.

The fund helps developing countries improve their climate reporting so they can fully take part in global climate efforts.

How the “family of funds” works together

One of the defining features of the GEF funding model is that each part speaks to the others.

Think of it like a team of funds working together, rather than separate, isolated programs.

These funds are coordinated so they can:

• Support the same project from different angles,
• Avoid duplication (no overlapping funding for the same purpose), and
• Align with global environmental agreements.

For example:

• A biodiversity project might use:
  • The main GEF Trust Fund
  • Plus the Global Biodiversity Framework Fund
• A climate adaptation project could combine:
  • Least Developed Countries Fund
  • Special Climate Change Fund

This ‘family’ structure improves:

• Coordination, so different funds work in sync,
• Efficiency, so funds work with less waste and duplication, and
• Flexibility, so projects can tap into multiple funding sources.

Environmental problems are interconnected. A single project (like forest conservation) can:

• Reduce carbon emissions,
• Protect biodiversity,
• Improve water systems, and
• Avoid land degradation.

Because of the integrated funding system, the GEF can support all these goals at once, rather than funding them separately.

The “family of funds” is a coordinated funding system that allows the GEF to:

• Combine resources;
• Support complex, multi-sector projects; and
• Maximise environmental impact

The Future of GEF Financing

As global environmental crises grow, so does the demand for money and resources to meet climate and biodiversity needs. International assessments suggest that hundreds of billions of dollars are needed each year.

The GEF aims to play a “catalytic” role in closing this gap – in short, the GEF acts as a “catalyst” or tool for using limited public funds to unlock much larger investments.

Its funding model mobilises additional resources from

• Governments,
• Development banks, and
• Private investors.

“In practical terms, the mechanisms being supported in GEF-9 include debt-for-nature and debt-for-climate swaps, green bonds, pooled investment vehicles, and outcome-based financing structures. Each of these can serve a different purpose depending on the context – but the common thread is that they allow the GEF to use its resources strategically to unlock much larger pools of capital from the private sector, multiplying the environmental impact that public funding alone could achieve,” Aoki said.

Note: This feature is published with the support of the GEF. IPS is solely responsible for the editorial content, and it does not necessarily reflect the views of the GEF.

IPS UN Bureau Report

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

Credit: Kristian Tuxen Ladegaard Berg/NurPhoto via AFP

By Inés M. Pousadela
MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay, Apr 15 2026 (IPS)

When Danish Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen addressed her supporters on election night on 24 March, she chose her words carefully. Losing four percentage points after almost seven years in power, she suggested, wasn’t so bad given there’s been a pandemic, a war in Europe and a confrontation with Donald Trump over Greenland. The reality was the Social Democrats had recorded their worst general election result since 1903. Meanwhile, the far-right Danish People’s Party (DPP) tripled its seat count, despite years of the Social Democrats leading a systematic crackdown on immigration to try to prevent it gaining support.

A historic result

While the Social Democrats came first on 21.9 per cent of the vote, they dropped from 50 to 38 seats. Their centre-right coalition partner, Venstre, had its worst result in its 150-year history. These are the two parties that have led every government since mainstream politics began copying far-right narratives on immigration. The bargain has benefitted neither.

Vote-switching data from exit polls told the story. The Social Democrats retained only around two thirds of their 2022 support. Their largest group of defectors — 13 per cent of their previous voters — switched to the Green Left, which now holds 20 seats as parliament’s second-largest party. Right-leaning voters switched to the DPP rather than rewarding the Social Democrats for delivering the immigration restrictions the DPP has long demanded. Time and again, evidence suggests that voters who are highly motivated about an issue tend to prefer parties that have always prioritised it over parties that have adopted it more recently out of electoral calculation.

The overall picture leaves neither bloc with a majority. The left-wing grouping holds 84 seats and the right holds 77, both short of the 90 needed to govern. Frederiksen has submitted her resignation as prime minister but, as leader of the largest party, has been charged with forming a new government. This is a task made harder by the conditions attached by Moderates leader Lars Løkke Rasmussen, who’s unwilling to join a government that does not include both left and right.

Twenty-five years of accommodation

The Social Democrats’ turn on immigration began in the aftermath of their 2001 election defeat. The party believed it was losing working-class voters to the far right over immigration and concluded it needed to compete on that ground. It framed anti-immigration policies as a defence of the welfare state, trying to emphasise solidarity rather than xenophobia, and over the next decade moved steadily rightward on this issue.

The nine seats the DPP got in 2001 became invaluable to centre-right Venstre leader Anders Fogh Rasmussen, who formed a minority government with its support. His government subsequently launched a wave of amendments to the Aliens Act, which was changed 93 times between 2002 and 2016 with the explicit goal of making Denmark less appealing to asylum seekers.

Throughout the 2000s and early 2010s, the DPP grew steadily, winning 20.6 per cent of votes in 2015 to become the biggest force on the right. Between 2015 and 2018, immigration law was amended over 70 times.

When Frederiksen became Social Democrat leader in 2015, she sought to outbid the DPP. By the 2019 election, the Social Democrats’ anti-immigration platform closely mirrored the DPP’s. And in the short term, it worked for them. They won the 2019 election while the DPP lost almost 12 percentage points. In losing, though, the DPP had won: its previously fringe positions on migration, belonging and identity had been absorbed into mainstream politics.

A rights-violating regime

On entering government in 2019, Frederiksen entrenched what the Social Democrats called a ‘paradigm shift’, moving from integration to deterrence, detention and return, with the stated goal of admitting ‘zero asylum seekers’. Denmark became the first European state to declare parts of Syria safe, enabling it to deport Syrian refugees to an active conflict zone. In 2021, parliament authorised the outsourcing of asylum processing to countries outside Europe. By 2024, Denmark was granting under 900 people asylum a year, the lowest figure in four decades, pandemic years excluded.

The human rights consequences have been documented by international civil society organisations and bodies such as the United Nations Committee Against Torture. Amnesty International has raised concerns about the forced return of asylum seekers to danger in violation of the 1951 Refugee Convention. The European Court of Human Rights ruled that Denmark’s three-year waiting period for family reunification for refugees with temporary protection status violates the right to family life. Policies targeting government-classified ‘ghetto’ areas — overwhelmingly low-income neighbourhoods with high concentrations of people from migrant backgrounds — have been challenged at the European Court of Justice on grounds of racial discrimination.

The harm has been intentional. A framework designed to make Denmark as unwelcoming as possible has placed tens of thousands of people in prolonged legal uncertainty, with documented effects on family stability and mental health. Under Denmark’s presidency of the Council of the European Union, Frederiksen pressed for similar policies across Europe and, alongside far-right Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni, lobbied for a revised European Convention on Human Rights to enable easier deportation. Centre-left governments in Sweden and the UK have looked to Denmark as a model.

Normalisation, not neutralisation

The political calculation was that taking ownership of immigration would reduce its salience as an issue and deny the far right the fuel to grow. Instead, the move intensified demand, leaving opponents of migration taking ever more extreme positions while erasing the distinction between mainstream and far-right politics.

Denmark’s experience is a lesson other European centre-left parties appear determined not to learn. Twenty-five years of accommodation have produced a society in which far-right assumptions have become normalised, at enormous and ongoing cost to those whose rights are being stripped away. This is not a template; it is a warning.

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.

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

From the left, Rev. Tolbert Thomas Jallah Jn with Mariann Bassey Olsson during the launch of the campaign in Cartagena, Colombia. Credit: AFSA.

By Isaiah Esipisu
NAIROBI, Apr 14 2026 (IPS)

Over 800 households in Ikolomani Constituency in Kakamega County, Western Kenya, fear eviction to pave the way for a British firm, Shanta Gold Limited, to begin extracting gold valued at Sh683 billion ($5.29 billion) on an estimated 337 acres of residential and agricultural land.

Efforts by residents to protest against the looming displacement during an attempt for a public participation session on the Environmental and Social Impact Assessment (ESIA) by the government on 4 December 2025 were met with police brutality, leading to four deaths due to bullet wounds, arbitrary arrests and scores of injuries.

According to the Kenya Human Rights Commission (KHRC), the incident is part of a disturbing and escalating pattern in Kenya’s extractive sector, where communities seeking accountability are met with brutal force, political threats, and procedural manipulation.

“Mining zones are increasingly becoming death traps rather than engines of community development,” reads part of a statement issued by the commission following the incident.

This trend mirrors what is happening in many other countries across Africa, where communities living in mineral-rich areas face forceful displacements, abuse of basic human rights, and environmental degradation linked to industrial mineral extraction, often perpetrated by foreign firms with full support of the political class.

According to Appolinaire Zagabe, a Congolese human rights activist and the Director for the DRC Climate Change Network (Reseau Sur le Changement Climatique RDC) in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), often, people he terms ‘greedy government officials’ sign contracts with extractive firms to legalise their activities, then use police machinery to forcefully and brutally evict communities without informed consent and proper compensation.

It is based on such injustices that civil society organisations, social movements, faith-based actors, Indigenous Peoples, pastoralist and peasant organisations from Africa under the umbrella of the Alliance for Food Sovereignty in Africa (AFSA) launched a campaign calling for land policies that protect African smallholder farmers and communities against punitive extractive practices and land grabbing, which are currently a threat to human rights, livelihoods and sustainable food systems.

“Land is more than a resource; it is our heritage, our identity, and our future,” said Rev. Tolbert Thomas Jallah Jr, the Executive Director at the Faith and Justice Network, during the launch of the campaign on the sidelines of the International Conference on Agrarian Reform and Rural Development (ICARRD+20) in Cartagena, Colombia.

“Across Africa, our soils feed our families, sustain our economies, and connect generations, yet today, land degradation, industrial extractive practices by foreign enterprises, climate change, and land grabbing threaten the very foundation of our food systems,” he added.

In a joint declaration at the conference, the organisations observed that rural communities across the world continue to face dispossession, land concentration, and ecological destruction.

“Despite global commitments to end hunger and poverty, land and food systems are increasingly controlled by corporate and financial interests, while communities that produce food remain marginalised and insecure,” reads part of the declaration statement.

It was further observed that carbon offset projects, extractive industries, agribusiness expansions, and speculative land markets are accelerating dispossession, soil degradation, and social inequality, often excluding communities from territories they have governed collectively for generations.

The campaign, dubbed “Protect Our Land, Restore Our Soil”, is now calling on governments to strengthen land rights and protect smallholder farmers; communities to embrace sustainable farming practices that rebuild soil fertility; and youthful farmers to view agriculture not as a last resort but as a powerful pathway to innovation and resilience.

“When soil is degraded, food becomes scarce, and when land is taken or misused, communities lose dignity and security,” said Rev. Tolbert, who is also the sitting Chairperson at the AFSA’s Board of Directors.

Just like the looming evictions of residents of Ikolomani in Kenya, Amnesty International has also observed that people of the DRC also pay a high price to supply the world with copper and cobalt: forced evictions, illegal destruction of their homes, and physical violence – sometimes leading to deaths.

The DRC supplies 70 to 74 percent of the copper and cobalt used in lithium-ion batteries. These batteries power our smartphones, laptops, electric cars, and bicycles, and they play a major role in the energy transition away from fossil fuels. This transition is urgent and necessary.

However, according to Amnesty International, mineral-rich regions of the DRC are sacrificed to mining development, leading to a shocking series of abuses in the region. Thousands of people have lost their homes, schools, hospitals, and communities due to the expansion of copper and cobalt mines in the country, especially in Kolwezi, which sits above rich copper and cobalt deposits.

The AFSA-led campaign calls on governments and corporate organisations to guarantee meaningful participation of affected communities and free prior and informed consent of Indigenous Peoples in land, agriculture and climate decision-making to avoid conflicts and abuse of basic human rights.

“The future lies not in further commodifying land and food systems, but in restoring community control over territories, securing pastoralist mobility and commons, and supporting agroecological transitions rooted in justice and ecological integrity,” observed Mariann Bassey Olsson, a Lawyer, and Director at Action (Friends of the Earth Nigeria).

IPS UN Bureau Report

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

 
CIVICUS discusses recent regressive changes to Argentina’s labour laws with Facundo Merlán Rey, an activist with the Coordination Against Police and Institutional Repression (CORREPI), an organisation that defends workers’ rights and resists state repression.

Facundo Merlán Rey

What does the new law change and why did the government decide to push it through?

Capitalising on its victory in last year’s legislative election, which gave it a majority in both parliamentary chambers, the government pushed through a labour law that introduced changes on several fronts simultaneously.

It increases the daily maximum of working hours from eight to 12, with a weekly cap of 48. Hours worked beyond this limit no longer need to be paid separately, but can be accumulated and exchanged for days off at a later date.

It also introduces the concept of ‘dynamic wage’, allowing part of an employee’s pay to be determined based on merit or individual productivity. The employer can decide this unilaterally with no need for a collective agreement. This would allow two people to be paid differently for doing the same work.

The law creates the Labour Assistance Fund, an account to which the employer contributes three per cent of a worker’s salary, of which between one and 2.5 percentage points come from the worker’s pay. If dismissed, the worker receives the amount accumulated in that fund. This is deeply humiliating. It makes the worker contribute to the financing of their dismissal. Given that these contributions previously went into the pension system, the effect will also be to weaken pensions.

The law restricts the right to strike by expanding the list of occupations deemed essential, which means they are required to maintain at least 75 per cent of their operations during a strike. Previously, this category included air traffic control, electricity, gas, healthcare and water. Now it also includes customs, education at all levels except university, immigration, ports and telecommunications. In practice, this means that in these fields a strike will have a much more limited impact.

Finally, the law repeals the special regimes that regulated working conditions in some trades and professions. Over the next six months, hairdressers, private drivers, radio and telegraph operators and travelling salespeople will lose these protections. The Journalists’ Statute will be abolished from 2027 onwards.

At CORREPI, we believe all these measures are unconstitutional, as they directly contravene article 14 of the constitution, which guarantees the right to work and the right to decent living conditions. The changes put employers in a position of almost absolute dominance in an employment relationship, leaving workers with no real scope to defend their rights.

How have trade unions and social organisations reacted?

The most militant groups highlighted the problems with the new law clearly, but the response from the organised labour movement has been insufficient.

Union leaders responded with a belated and low-profile campaign plan. They have long been criticised for preferring discreet agreements to open confrontation, and this time was no different. They negotiated behind the scenes and secured concessions to protect themselves. The law maintains employers’ contributions to trade union health schemes and the union dues paid by workers for two years. The rights of workers as a whole were sidelined.

What impact are the changes having?

Although the law is already in force, its full implementation faces obstacles, partly because it has internal consistency issues that hinder its practical application. When the government attempts to apply it in employment areas that still retain rights, it will likely face legal challenges, which will increase social unrest.

Even so, some of its effects are already being felt. Unemployment is rising slowly but steadily. Factory closures, driven by the opening up of imports and the greater ease of dismissal, are pushing more workers into informal employment and multiple jobs. The result is a fall in consumption and a level of strain with outcomes that are difficult to predict.

The consequences extend beyond the economic sphere. Increasingly demanding working conditions, combined with high inflation and rising household debt, are taking a toll on workers’ mental health. Regrettably, there is already a worrying rise in the suicide rate.

There’s also a consequence that is harder to measure: this reform erodes the collective identity of workers. When work is informal, individuals tend to solve their problems on their own, making it much harder to organise to demand better conditions. In working-class neighbourhoods, drug trafficking is becoming established as an alternative source of employment, generating situations of violence that largely go unnoticed. Unfortunately, everything points to an ever-deepening social breakdown.

What lessons does this experience hold for the rest of the region?

Regional experience shows it is very difficult to reverse this kind of change. In Brazil, President Lula da Silva came to power in 2022 promising to repeal the labour law passed in 2017 under Michel Temer’s government, similarly opposed by social organisations and trade unions. However, he failed to do so, and the framework Temer left remains in force. Once passed, these laws tend to remain in place regardless of who governs next.

That’s why what’s happening in Argentina should not be viewed as an isolated phenomenon. The reform appears to be part of a broader direction that regional politics is taking under the influence of the USA, one of the main drivers of these changes and a supporter of the governments implementing them.

The weakening of labour rights and collective organising is not a side effect; it is the objective being pursued. Dismantling workers’ ability to organise collectively facilitates the advance of extractive and financial interests and guarantees access to cheap labour. In that sense, Argentina offers a warning to the rest of the region.

CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent.

GET IN TOUCH
Website
Facebook
Instagram
Twitter
YouTube

SEE ALSO
‘Milei managed to capture social unrest and channel it through a disruptive political proposal’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Carlos Gervasoni 13.Dec.2025
‘Society must prepare to act collectively to defend rights and democracy’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Natalia Gherardi 27.Feb.2025
‘The state is abandoning its role as guarantor of access to rights’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Vanina Escales and Manuel Tufró 22.Jul.2024

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

Credit: Mamunur Rashid/NurPhoto via AFP

By Inés M. Pousadela
MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay, Apr 6 2026 (IPS)

Bangladesh’s first credible election in nearly two decades delivered a landslide win for the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) and its leader Tarique Rahman, son of a former prime minister, just back from 17 years of self-imposed exile.

The election was made possible by a Generation Z-led uprising that security forces sought to repress by killing at least 1,400 people. The protest that began when young people rose up against a job quota system that functioned as a tool of patronage grew into a movement that brought down a government. Many protesters wanted something beyond the ousting of an authoritarian government, calling for old politics to be swept aside and young people to have a genuine say in government. What’s resulted falls short of that, and Bangladesh’s new government should be aware that unless it delivers genuine change, protests could rise again.

The uprising

The 2024 protests that toppled Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina began when Bangladesh’s High Court reinstated a 30 per cent quota for descendants of 1971 independence war veterans, leaving less than half of public sector jobs open to recruitment based on merit. In a country with acute youth unemployment, frustrated young people rejected this system as a vehicle for Awami League patronage. Coordinated by the Students Against Discrimination network, the movement spread nationwide through road and railway blockades.

The government’s response turned a policy dispute into a political crisis. Members of the Awami League’s student wing attacked protesters. Authorities imposed a nationwide curfew with a shoot-on-sight order, shut down the internet and directed security forces to fire lethal weapons into crowds. But the repression backfired. People used their phones to document every incident, and footage circulated widely after internet access was partly restored, directly undermining the government’s narrative that cast protesters as violent agitators. The killing of student coordinator Abu Sayed, filmed as he stood unarmed with arms outstretched before police opened fire, became the uprising’s defining image.

On 5 August 2024, facing a mass march on her residence, Hasina fled to India on an army helicopter. As CIVICUS’s 2026 State of Civil Society Report sets out, Bangladesh’s Gen Z-led uprising went on to inspire subsequent protests in Indonesia, Nepal and beyond.

Reforms in the balance

Three days after Hasina fled, Nobel Peace Prize-winning economist Muhammad Yunus was sworn in as Chief Adviser of an interim government. This was a victory for the student movement, which had made clear it would not accept a military-backed administration. His government established reform commissions covering the constitution, corruption, judiciary, police and public administration, and negotiated the July National Charter with political parties: 84 proposals designed to reduce the concentration of power in the prime minister’s office and make it structurally harder for any future government to capture the state the way Hasina had. Most parties signed it in October 2025.

But the path to the election was neither clean nor consensual. The International Crimes Tribunal, a domestic judicial body reinstated by the interim government, convicted Hasina in absentia for crimes against humanity and sentenced her to death. In May 2025, the interim government banned the Awami League under anti-terrorism legislation. International observers warned that excluding the country’s largest party risked disenfranchising millions and undermining the election’s democratic credibility.

The election timing was also bitterly contested: the BNP, eager to capitalise on its frontrunner status, pushed for an early date, while the newly formed National Citizen Party (NCP), founded by Gen Z protesters, wanted more time to organise and for institutional reforms to be locked in first. The BNP prevailed.

A dynasty returns

The BNP and its allies won 209 of 299 contested seats, securing a decisive two-thirds parliamentary majority. The right-wing Islamist party Jamaat-e-Islami — whose 2013 ban the interim government lifted — emerged as the main opposition with close to 80 seats, its best-ever result. The NCP won just six of the 30 seats it contested.

The NCP’s poor showing had partly structural causes — formed in February 2025, it had barely a year to build an organisation with limited funds and no networks beyond urban centres — and was partly self-inflicted. A decision to ally with Jamaat-e-Islami as part of an 11-party coalition alienated many young voters who had hoped for genuinely new politics. Prominent NCP figures resigned in protest and stood as independents. NCP leader Nahid Islam, just 27 years old, did win a seat, and the party has pledged to rebuild in opposition.

The election itself was a genuine improvement on Bangladesh’s recent history. Turnout reached 60 per cent, up from 42 per cent in the fraud-ridden 2024 poll. Over 60 per cent of voters endorsed the July Charter in a referendum that was held alongside the election, giving the reform agenda a democratic mandate the new government will find difficult to ignore. Yet the vote would have been more legitimate had all parties been permitted to compete freely, and the campaign was not fully free of violence either: rights groups documented that at least 16 political activists were killed in the run-up to polling day.

Now the BNP inherits a state apparatus politicised over decades of one-party dominance and holds a two-thirds parliamentary majority with no meaningful check on its authority. Whether it will govern differently from those it replaced, or simply settle into the same logic of power, remains to be seen. The young people whose uprising made this election possible are watching. They have already brought down one government. The new one would do well to remember this.

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.

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

 
CIVICUS discusses Italy’s restrictive immigration policies with Eleonora Celoria, a researcher at FIERI (Forum Internazionale ed Europeo di Ricerche sull’Immigrazione), a research centre on migration, and a member of the Association for Legal Studies on Immigration (ASGI), an Italian legal organisation that defends migrants’ and asylum seekers’ rights through advocacy, public awareness and strategic litigation.

Eleonora Celoria

What are the main objectives of the new migration bill?

The bill introduces a 30-day naval blockade mechanism, extendable to six months, for ships deemed to pose a ‘serious threat to public order or national security’, including on the grounds of ‘exceptional migratory pressure’. It goes beyond European Union (EU) frameworks and is designed to restrict civil society organisations conducting search and rescue operations.

The blockade is really a prohibition on entering Italian waters, and ships that violate it would face fines of up to €50,000 (approx. US$ 57,000), with repeat offenders facing confiscation. Since civil society rescue vessels are the only ships making multiple trips in and out of Italian waters, they are the primary target. This is not simply a border management tool; it’s a deliberate escalation of state control over maritime arrivals.

More significantly, the bill would make the Italy-Albania protocol permanent: migrants intercepted at sea would be transported directly to Italian-run processing centres in Albania, bypassing Italian mainland ports entirely. Their asylum claims would be determined outside Italy’s jurisdiction. Because they never reach Italian soil, they wouldn’t access Italian legal protections or independent judicial review. The government is determined to use this mechanism. Albanian facilities held only 10 to 15 people due to adverse court rulings, but the government has recently ramped up transfers to take the number to around 80.

How does the bill change asylum and border management practices?

The bill focuses on criminalisation, deportations and removals rather than asylum procedures. It introduces stricter rules for immigration detention centres (Centri di Permanenza per i Rimpatri, CPRs), expands expulsion grounds to include minor criminal convictions and ramps up criminal penalties for people facing expulsion. This effectively criminalises irregular status itself.

Critically, the bill eliminates special protection, a form of national protection that Italian courts have frequently recognised for people who don’t meet narrow refugee criteria but face serious risks if they are returned. This has been one of the few remaining meaningful pathways to legal status. Stricter eligibility criteria would reduce judicial discretion, trapping more people in legal irregularity.

Finally, the bill implements the EU Pact on Migration and Asylum, a package of EU laws overhauling asylum and border procedures across the bloc, which member states must transpose by 12 June. It does so through legislative delegation, giving the government wide discretion to enact implementing measures by decree. Italy’s approach is the most restrictive possible. The Albania externalisation model is the primary mechanism, prioritising rapid removal over thorough examination. Changes to asylum procedures will be determined through executive action, with limited parliamentary scrutiny.

What is remigration, and why does it concern civil society?

Remigration is a white supremacist concept that calls for the forced removal of immigrants, refugees and their descendants, including legal residents and naturalised citizens, on grounds of ethnicity, race or perceived failure to ‘assimilate’. It targets people for who they are, not what they have done, violating the non-discrimination principle that underpins human rights law and the rule of law.

What makes this dangerous is that remigration has moved from marginal to mainstream political discourse. A far-right petition on remigration has recently gathered enough signatures to force a parliamentary debate. When such concepts gain mainstream legitimacy, they push other parties towards increasingly restrictive policies. Italy’s current bills move precisely in that direction.

From a legal perspective, remigration violates international human rights conventions and Italy’s constitution, which guarantees non-discrimination and solidarity. A policy based on ethnic or racial identity would also be incompatible with Italy’s international obligations.

Where do these measures conflict with international law?

The measures create serious tensions with several binding legal instruments: the 1951 Geneva Convention, the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR) and EU primary law including the Charter of Fundamental Rights.

Expanded administrative detention in Italy and Albania risks being arbitrary where the legal basis is insufficiently precise or subject to inadequate judicial review. Documented conditions in Italian CPRs and foreseeable conditions in Albanian centres expose people to inhuman and degrading treatment in violation of Article 3 of the ECHR. The externalisation model creates a direct risk of violating the non-refoulement principle, the absolute prohibition on returning people to places where they face persecution.

The government will argue these measures align with the EU Pact. But alignment with the pact does not guarantee compatibility with the ECHR or the Geneva Convention. ASGI will respond with litigation, through individual cases and strategic cases targeting CPR detention and the Italy-Albania deal, and documentation of the human costs of these policies.

What risks do these policies pose for migrants’ and asylum seekers’ rights?

Under the proposed legislation, Italy would intercept boats and transfer rescued migrants to extraterritorial centres without assessing their health status, protection needs or vulnerabilities. Victims of persecution, torture and trafficking may never get to present their claims or be identified as needing protection.

The bill criminalises irregular migrants by allowing both administrative detention in CPRs and criminal imprisonment in prisons, a dual-track approach that multiplies the risk of fundamental rights violations and exposure to degrading conditions. Detention in existing CPRs is already documented as dangerous. Conditions in the Albanian centres, with minimal oversight and no independent monitoring, would predictably be worse.

The result is a system designed to process people quickly rather than accurately. Trafficking victims, torture survivors and people with severe mental health conditions — people who most need careful assessment and legal support — are unlikely to be identified and protected. Compressed timelines and limited access to lawyers amount to a serious restriction on the right to effective judicial protection.

CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent.

GET IN TOUCH
Website
Facebook
Instagram
LinkedIn
YouTube

SEE ALSO
Migration: Cruelty as policy CIVICUS | 2026 State of Civil Society Report
Greece: ‘New migration and asylum policies challenge the basic principles of refugee protection and the European legal order’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Minos Mouzourakis 26.Sep.2025
Italy: ‘No migration policy should be based on fear and punishment’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Valeria Carlini 17.Nov.2024

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

 
CIVICUS discusses the presidential election in the Republic of the Congo with Ivan Kibangou Ngoy, executive director of Global Participe, a civil society action-research organisation focused on democratic governance based in Pointe-Noire.

Ivan Kibangou Ngoy

How can the 94.8 per cent result be explained?

The outcome of this election was predictable from the outset, and for one fundamental reason: the legal framework gives free rein to electoral fraud. The electoral law lacks the necessary safeguards to prevent manipulation. The ruling party has systematically rigged the electoral process, excluding its opponents and independent civil society from any meaningful participation.

Accreditation for observers was refused to independent civil society organisations (CSOs), evidence of a total lack of transparency. Without independent observers, there’s no external oversight of the conduct of the vote or the counting of votes.

The result was not the outcome of electoral competition; it was the logical result of a system designed to guarantee precisely this outcome. When the legal framework allows for fraud, the opposition cannot campaign, observers are excluded and the government controls all administrative mechanisms, including the electoral administration, the result becomes inevitable. This is not an anomaly but the product of a system designed to produce it and to give it the appearance of democratic legitimacy. So the result was already decided even before polling stations opened.

How was competition restricted?

Opposition parties and independent CSOs were not allowed to organise public meetings or campaign openly among voters. They were denied access to public media, preventing them communicating with people.

The country still operates under a prior authorisation regime: the government must approve all public political activity. This system creates a fundamental imbalance: the ruling party can organise its rallies freely, while the opposition is blocked at every turn. There is an urgent need to move to a simple notification system, in which CSOs and parties would inform the authorities of their activities without needing their consent. Without this change, the opposition has no legal mechanism to participate fairly in an election.

The imprisonment and exile of major opposition figures send a clear message: challenging Sassou Nguesso’s regime is criminalised. Two of the country’s best-known opposition figures have been in prison for nearly a decade. When opponents cannot stand for election, campaign or move about freely, the result is predetermined both by fraud and the physical elimination of alternatives. The election is merely an administrative charade designed to legitimise the retention of power. It’s not a genuine choice but a demonstration of state power over a population reduced to silence.

Why is the internet cut off during elections?

Since the advent of social media, every election has been accompanied by an internet blackout, a deliberate measure the authorities take to control the information circulating during the vote. Internet shutdowns directly reinforce the system of electoral fraud by preventing the spread of information on fraud, irregularities or violations of voters’ rights. Without the internet, people cannot share photos or videos from polling stations, observers cannot report anomalies in real time and citizen movements cannot coordinate monitoring efforts.

The internet blackout effectively transforms the country into an information-controlled zone where only government messages can circulate. This reveals that the regime understands the power of social media as a tool for accountability and mobilisation. It’s an implicit acknowledgement that, without control over information, the regime could not maintain its official narrative. This systematic practice ultimately reveals the fragility of the regime’s legitimacy.

How has civil society mobilised despite restrictions?

Despite systematic restrictions, civil society organised itself by holding press conferences and workshops in private spaces, where the authorities could not intervene directly. These meetings enabled civil society to coordinate strategies and strengthen cohesion between organisations, even with a limited number of participants. Press conferences enabled direct engagement with the media despite restrictions on access to public media. Civil society also used social media to document rights violations, mobilise people and maintain a public conversation on electoral issues.

However, these strategies reveal the limits of resistance in a heavily controlled environment. Meetings in private spaces reach only a limited audience and social media can be shut down at any moment, as happened on election day. We must continue mapping independent CSOs to identify and connect all those working outside the regime’s control. We must also train CSO leaders in techniques for raising awareness and mobilising people.

People must understand the nature of the regime governing Congo-Brazzaville. The current regime is embodied by the Congolese Labour Party, a former Soviet-style party-state ousted from power at the ballot box in 1992, in the only truly free and transparent election the country has ever held. The party returned to power by force of arms after overthrowing the democratically elected government. Understanding this history is crucial: it proves that democratic change is possible. When people understand the mechanisms of power seizure and refuse to accept them, the regime loses its legitimacy even if it retains formal control of the state.

What’s the future for democracy in Congo after 42 years of rule?

Four decades under the same regime amount to the systematic denial of democratic change, of citizens’ fundamental right to choose a different government through the ballot box. Sassou Nguesso’s fifth term consolidates an institutional framework designed to ensure no one else ever comes to power through democratic means.

This framework operates through the systematic contradiction between constitutional promises and practice. The constitution proclaims a multi-party system, but a law recognises only those parties that pledge allegiance to the ruling power. The constitution creates the post of leader of the opposition, but this leader is the head of a party affiliated with the ruling power. The constitution establishes an advisory council of associations, but this institution is attached to the office of the head of state to muzzle civil society. The country is run like a barracks.

We must expose and discredit this regime internationally, by publicly denouncing its supporters, notably the French government and oil multinationals. Independent civil society must step up awareness-raising campaigns, both in person and online. The international community must exert sustained pressure, including diplomatic pressure, sanctions and support for organisations in exile. Without this combination of internal action and international pressure, democratic change will remain impossible. But it is possible. It happened in 1992, and it can happen again.

CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent.

GET IN TOUCH
Facebook

SEE ALSO
Democracy: an enduring aspiration CIVICUS | 2026 State of Civil Society Report
‘Gabon remains at a crossroads between democratic change and authoritarian continuity’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Sentiment Ondo 21.Nov.2025
‘Media and social networks are battlegrounds where rumours and disinformation circulate widely’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Kaberu Tairu 11.Oct.2025

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

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.

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

 
CIVICUS discusses Portugal’s presidential runoff election and the rise of the far-right Chega (Enough) party with Jonni Lopes, Executive Director of Academia Cidadã (Citizen Academy) and a Steering Committee member of the European Civic Forum, an organisation working on civic engagement, democratic participation and the protection of civic space at national, regional and international levels.

Jonni Lopes

Why did centre-right voters back a Socialist candidate?

Despite not agreeing with his politics, centre-right voters backed a Socialist candidate to build a firewall around the presidency, recognising that the office demands deliberation, predictability and respect for democratic rules, none of which Chega represents. Seguro’s campaign made this possible. He distanced himself from party politics, avoided turning the race into a debate about the Socialist Party and positioned himself as a stable figure capable of providing institutional continuity during a political crisis.

This was practical risk management, not ideology. The centre-right Social Democratic Party is pushing labour law changes that triggered a joint general strike in December, with over three million workers participating. With Chega already holding significant parliamentary power, voters feared that a far-right president would go further still, using veto powers not to check the government’s agenda, but to entrench it and block any legislation protecting workers’ rights.

This coalition shows that a clear boundary against the far right still exists, at least when it comes to leading the state. It’s a defensive pact: democrats can disagree on policy, but there’s a line when it comes to handing power to a reactionary force that threatens democratic institutions.

What does the result mean for Portugal and Europe?

For Portugal, this result is a temporary reprieve for democracy. Seguro won two-thirds of the second-round vote and over 3.5 million votes, the most ever cast for a presidential candidate in Portugal, despite storms that disrupted voting. This shows that, faced with a genuine far-right threat, Portuguese democracy can still mobilise broadly to defend itself.

But this wasn’t a clear victory against the far right. Ventura won one-third of the vote, strengthened his base and positioned himself as a serious contender for right-wing leadership. In just a few years, Chega has gone from a fringe party to parliament’s second largest.

This sends a mixed message to Europe: broad democratic coalitions can still prevent far-right candidates reaching the top office, but the far right is now mainstream, shapes political agendas and forces other parties to constantly define themselves in relation to it. This is the new normal. This matters particularly for the European Commission, as far-right movements are structural threats and the only response is to strengthen the rule of law and democratic institutions.

Where does Chega go from here?

Ventura lost the presidential election, but Chega has emerged stronger. Winning a third of the vote against a candidate backed by the entire democratic spectrum cements its position. Ventura can now claim to speak for a significant portion of the right, and his loss only strengthens that claim, as he can frame the firewall as evidence that the political system is rigged against him, feeding narratives of elite persecution. He will also use his parliamentary strength to extract concessions by supporting or blocking the government’s budget and pushing on immigration and security, winning enough policy gains to show he delivers for his voters.

Ventura has already said that support for stability ‘has limits’. If the government hits serious problems, such as a budget crisis or a political deadlock, Chega will position itself as the only force willing to break the impasse and ‘fix things’. He’s not treating the presidential loss as the end of his political project but as a stepping stone to bigger gains in future elections. His calculation is that electoral legitimacy can eventually become governmental power.

What does this mean for civic space and civil society?

Portugal’s civic space is shrinking. Hate speech is becoming normalised, immigration rules are tightening, government administration is becoming more exclusionary, protest organisers face police intimidation and civil society organisations are struggling financially. These create real barriers to people exercising their rights. Chega’s rise and its racist and xenophobic rhetoric now heard in parliament raise the risk that discrimination and violence against migrants will become politically acceptable.

A president committed to rights protection can set limits: vetoing discriminatory laws, refusing to suppress information the public needs and protecting communities and organisations under attack. The presidency alone cannot reverse the shrinking of civic space, but it can prevent the government from fully institutionalising a far-right agenda.

Human rights organisations, labour movements and migrant groups see this moment as an opportunity to strengthen protections, not a final victory. Turnout held strong despite devastating storms and emergency conditions, evidence that people were genuinely mobilised by the threat, particularly urban voters connected to civil society, including unions, who had already fought the government over labour rights. The organisations that coordinated the strike now expect the president to use his powers to defend rights.

How should Seguro use his presidential powers?

Seguro has been clear he won’t be the reason parliament is dissolved, and has committed to working with the government while demanding ‘solutions and results’. This means dissolution of parliament will be a last resort in a genuine crisis, not a tactical move to tackle normal political disagreements. He will use his veto power to block laws he thinks violate the constitution and rights and mediate between the government and opposition to push them towards compromise.

The challenge will be to keep the democratic parties, both government and opposition, at the centre while Chega tries to dictate the agenda. If Seguro dissolves parliament too quickly or without a strong reason, he’ll just fuel Chega’s narrative that the system is broken. If he’s too passive and doesn’t use his veto when rights are threatened, he’ll look complicit in democratic erosion. Both scenarios would help Chega: either the system looks incapable of functioning, or it looks unwilling to defend people’s rights.

Seguro will have to walk a very fine line between doing too much and doing too little, while a far-right opposition waits to exploit whatever mistakes he makes. If he gets it wrong, his historic electoral victory will give way to deeper crisis rather than democratic renewal.

CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent.

GET IN TOUCH
Website
Facebook
Instagram
LinkedIn
YouTube

SEE ALSO
Portugal’s far-right surge CIVICUS Lens 30.May.2025
‘Civil society must engage to prevent discussions devolving into demagoguery’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Jorge Máximo 28.May.2025
‘The rise of the populist right only further weakens trust in the political system’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Ana Carmo 19.Feb.2024

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

 
CIVICUS discusses Nepal’s upcoming election with youth activist Anusha Khanal of the Gen Z Movement Alliance, a youth-led civil society coalition mobilising for democratic accountability and governance reform in Nepal.

Anusha Khanal

What triggered the Gen Z protests, and how did the state respond?

The immediate trigger was the government revealing its authoritarian tendencies by banning 26 popular social media platforms. This happened during the ‘nepokids’ trend, in which people exposed the wealth of politicians’ families, contrasting with widespread economic desperation. Inflation was high and unemployment among young people stood at around 23 per cent, and there were no pathways for change within existing political structures. But this wasn’t just about jobs. Young people demanded accountability for decades of corruption, poor governance, service delivery failures and a political system completely disconnected from our realities. The leaders of three parties had rotated in power for years without delivering anything meaningful. We mobilised because we had nothing to lose.

The response was brutal. On the first day of protests, police killed several young people. The government refused to show any responsibility, instead seeking to frame the movement as violent and deny it any legitimacy. It criminalised youth anger instead of listening to it. The choice to emphasise property damage over deaths when some buildings were burned and vandalised told us everything about where their priorities lay. The government showed it did not care about young people.

But repression didn’t stop the movement; it accelerated it. Thousands more young people mobilised, and eventually the pressure became impossible to ignore. Oli’s resignation was a forced concession. But it exposed something important: the political system only moves when threatened directly. That’s a lesson we’re carrying into these elections.

How did civil society organisations engage with the movement?

Young people created the movement, not civil society organisations. Once it started, we received a lot of support from wider civil society. It became a people’s movement, with people of all ages taking part, in person and in spirit. Many civil society groups made a conscious choice to support it, document what was happening, share knowledge, help shape narratives, amplify demands and help exert pressure to translate grassroots anger into political demands. We pushed for accountability, investigations into the killings, protection for protesters and systemic reforms around corruption and governance. We insisted that any negotiation include young people at the table, as stakeholders in decision-making.

A major win was a 10-point agreement with the interim government that included commitments to address corruption, improve governance, ensure youth participation in decision-making and move towards more inclusive democracy. We also pushed for the establishment of the Gen Z Council, a body designed to hold government accountable, monitor implementation of reforms and bridge the gap between the state and young people.

But we’ve been realistic about what civil society can and cannot do. We can organise, advocate, document and monitor. We cannot force a government to implement reforms if the bureaucracy resists or political will collapses after elections. That’s why we’re now focused on maintaining pressure and building systems that make it harder for future governments to ignore youth demands.

How have election candidates addressed the movement’s demands?

Anti-corruption and good governance have become dominant themes across party manifestos. All parties are talking about digital governance, e-governance, going cashless and paperless. Some are promising to establish commissions to investigate past corruption or audit public officials’ assets going back decades. Others focus on timecard systems for service delivery, budget transparency and digitisation of transactions. It’s just that corruption is so visible that ignoring it would be political suicide.

The problem is that most parties are vague on implementation. They describe the what but not the how. There are also ideological differences, but most parties are talking about systemic reform and public-private partnerships.

Across the board, parties are responding to the movement’s anti-corruption demand because they have to. The question is whether these commitments are genuine or just campaign rhetoric.

Why are women and excluded groups still so underrepresented among candidates?

Campaign financing is a massive problem. The government sets spending limits, but everyone knows that’s not what happens on the ground. To run a serious campaign with widespread reach, you need sponsorship from wealthy backers or business interests. If you’re a woman earning a minimum wage, you simply cannot compete against candidates funded by millionaires. There is no public financing system, no state support for candidates from marginalised backgrounds. The economic system excludes most women and poor people before we even get to party selection processes.

Safety is another critical issue that doesn’t get enough attention. Digital violence against women running for office is rampant. Women and queer candidates face abuse, harassment and threats online and offline. When we encourage female and queer colleagues to run, the response is often hesitancy, due to the lack of support and because we haven’t created safe enough spaces for them to participate in politics. Although the constitution guarantees women 33 per cent representation, the reality on the ground is completely different.

Then there’s the distribution of candidacy slots within parties, which is opaque and controlled by party leaders. Even after public pressure, many parties failed to meet the female quota in direct candidacies. Some did better in proportional representation slots, but even there, they selected women who are mostly well-connected and wealthy. The movement emphasised inclusion, but we’ve regressed when it comes to candidate selection.

What obstacles stand in the way of reform?

The first challenge is that we’re almost certainly heading towards a coalition government, which means compromise on every issue. When multiple parties have to negotiate and share power, reform agendas get watered down. Parties will prioritise holding their coalition together over pushing through the anti-corruption and governance reforms they promised. We’ve seen this pattern before. What isn’t clear yet is what kind of coalition will result and what compromises will be made.

The second challenge is the bureaucracy. Nepal’s bureaucracy can be notoriously resistant to change, transparency and accountability. A reform can pass parliament and still die in implementation because mid-level bureaucrats refuse to change how they work. Even though the law to establish the Gen Z Council has been passed, it hasn’t been formed yet. We can identify problems, document failures and advocate loudly, but we cannot force a government to act. If the bureaucracy decides to drag its feet, we have limited leverage. Structural incentives favour the status quo, and that’s before we even consider whether individual politicians will prioritise reforms over personal interests or patronage networks.

But we’re not giving up. Civil society’s role now is to maintain constant pressure, document what does and doesn’t get implemented and call attention when governments fail to keep their promises. The Gen Z Council gives us a formal mechanism to do this, and we can also raise our voices independently of it. We need to build broader coalitions, keep the movement’s demands visible in public discourse and make clear that if a government fails to deliver, there will be consequences. Real change is slow and difficult — but it’s possible if civil society stays organised and vigilant and doesn’t compromise on core demands.

CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent.

GET IN TOUCH
Instagram
Anusha Khanal/LinkedIn

SEE ALSO
Nepal’s Gen Z uprising: time for youth-led change CIVICUS Lens 10.Oct.2025
‘The government was corrupt and willing to kill its own people to stay in power’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Dikpal Khatri Chhetri 02.Oct.2025
‘The Social Network Bill is part of a broader strategy to tighten control over digital communication’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Dikshya Khadgi 28.Feb.2025

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

Street scen of Herat province.

By External Source
HERAT, Afghanistan, Mar 18 2026 (IPS)

When Khadija Ahmadzada was arrested in Herat province of Afghanistan in January this year, it sparked widespread domestic and international protests. Women’s rights activists and social media users raised their voices with slogans such as “Sport is not a crime,” “Education is a right for women,” and “Don’t erase women,” often using the hashtag #BeHerVoice.

At the time of her arrest, the UN Special Rapporteur on human rights, Richard Bennett, had called for the immediate release of taekwondo coach Khadija Ahmadzada, expressing deep concern over her detention by the Taliban.

She has since been released but the outcry underlined the need for supporting Afghan women athletes, which activists around the world pointed out is a collective responsibility and warned that remaining silent in the face of oppression carries dangerous consequences.

Khadija Ahmadzada, 22, was an award-winning taekwondo athlete and coach of Afghanistan’s national youth team during the republic era. When the Taliban came to power, she tried to keep the sport alive for women and girls, creating opportunities for them to train, learn, and move forward at a time when those opportunities were steadily disappearing.

Herat was once a city where women’s sports clubs thrived. The women were highly motivated and recorded many achievements. The centers were not merely places for physical training; they also served as educational, social, and empowerment spaces for women and girls. Following the Taliban’s return to Afghanistan, all women’s sports facilities were shut down, and female athletes were categorically barred from continuing their activities.

Sports clubs have been closed to women since 2021, shortly after the Taliban returned to power, adding to a raft of measures put in place based on the Taliban’s strict interpretation of Islamic law. At the time, it was claimed they would reopen when a “safe environment” had been established. But as of January 2026, no sports club has reopened, and women are still barred from competition.

Known not only as a skilled athlete but also a determined and committed coach, Khadija Ahmadzada continued her work quietly under the Taliban’s strict restrictions, ensuring that women who wanted to train could still find a way. But her efforts did not remain hidden. In January 2026, she was arrested.

Her arrest highlights the intense pressure on active women in Afghanistan and reflects how they are forced to take forbidden paths to protect their basic rights and stay part of society.

Khadija Ahmadzada was trained in taekwondo professionally at the Jumong Taekwondo Academy in Herat under the guidance of Korean experts. Within a short time, she became a member of Afghanistan’s national youth team and won medals in domestic and regional competitions. She began teaching and training girls in taekwondo after ending her professional athletic career.

One of Khadija Ahmadzada’s students, who asked to remain anonymous for safety reasons said, “she is a skilled and devoted coach, and I am proud of her courage and selflessness”. When the Taliban’s morality police came to arrest Khadija, she assisted her students leave the club quietly while she stayed behind in defiance of the Taliban’s rules and was detained.

In the early days after Herat fell to the Taliban in August 2021, they began a gradual process of shutting down women and girls’ sports centers in stages. First the regime’s morality police issued verbal orders to operators of sports centers. The screws were tightened further in subsequent actions by confiscating equipment, locking up the gates of sports clubs and arrests of the owners and coaches.

Khadija’s two weeks in prison put tremendous pressure on her family. They repeatedly appealed to local representatives, community elders, and officials to help secure her release. Khadija was finally released after 13 days of imprisonment with a written pledge to not repeat the offense. Yet her freedom was less an end to suffering than a reminder of a life endured under Afghanistan’s Taliban.

Khadija established an underground taekwondo training program in the Jebraeil neighborhood of Herat, which has become a symbol of women’s resistance against the Taliban’s strict restrictions. She noted that before the Taliban came, many women were active in this field and earned a living through it. When the Taliban took over, sports halls were closed by their orders, women’s teams were disbanded, and female athletes and coaches either stayed at home or left the country. Among those who remained, women were forced to choose between complete silence or quiet resistance. Khadija was one of those who chose the latter.

IPS UN Bureau

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

Excerpt:

 
CIVICUS discusses China’s tech-enabled repression with Fergus Ryan, a Senior Analyst at the Australian Strategic Policy Institute (ASPI), where he specialises in how the Chinese Communist Party shapes global information environments through censorship, propaganda and platform governance. His research includes a major study on China’s AI ecosystem and its human rights impacts, as well as investigations into China’s use of foreign influencers.

Fergus Ryan

What AI systems is China developing?

Based on our research, China is rapidly developing a multi-layered AI ecosystem designed to expand state control.

Tech giants are building multimodal large language models (LLMs) such as Alibaba’s Qwen and Baidu’s Ernie Bot, which censor and reshape descriptions of politically sensitive images. Hardware companies including Dahua, Hikvision and SenseTime supply the camera networks that feed into these systems.

The state is building what amounts to an AI-driven criminal justice pipeline. This includes City Brain operations centres such as Shanghai’s Pudong district, which process massive surveillance data, as well as the 206 System, developed by iFlyTek, which analyses evidence and recommends criminal sentences. Inside prisons, AI monitors inmates’ facial expressions and tracks their emotions.

AI-enabled satellite surveillance, such as the Xinjiang Jiaotong-01, enables autonomous real-time tracking over politically sensitive regions. Additionally, AI-enabled fishing platforms such as Sea Eagle expand economic extraction in the exclusive economic zones of countries including Mauritania and Vanuatu, displacing artisanal fishing communities.

How does China use AI for censorship and policing?

China relies on a hybrid model of censorship that fuses the speed of AI with human political judgement. The government requires companies to self-censor, creating a commercial market for AI moderation tools. Tech giants such as Baidu and Tencent have industrialised this process: systems automatically scan images, text and videos to detect content deemed to be risky in real time, while human reviewers handle nuanced or coded speech.

In policing, City Brains ingest data from millions of cameras, drones and Internet of Things sensors and use AI to identify suspects, track vehicles and predict unrest before it happens. In Xinjiang, the Integrated Joint Operations Platform aggregates data from cameras, phone scanners and informants to generate risk scores for individuals, enabling pre-emptive detention based on behavioural patterns rather than specific crimes.

On platforms such as Douyin, the state does not just delete content; it algorithmically suppresses dissent while amplifying ‘positive energy’. AI links surveillance data directly to narrative control and police action.

What are the human rights impacts?

These AI systems erode the rights to freedom of expression, privacy and a fair trial.

Historically, online censorship meant deleting a post. Today, generative AI engages in ‘informational gaslighting’. When ASPI researchers showed an Alibaba LLM a photograph of a protest against human rights violations in Xinjiang, the AI described it as ‘individuals in a public setting holding signs with incorrect statements’ based on ‘prejudice and lies’. The technology subtly engineers reality, preventing users accessing objective historical truths.

AI also undermines the right to a fair trial. In courts that lack judicial independence, AI systems that recommend sentences or predict recidivism act as a black box that defence lawyers cannot scrutinise.

Pervasive surveillance changes behaviour even when not actively used, so its chilling effect may be as significant as direct deployment. Knowing their conversations may be monitored, people self-censor online and in private messaging. Emotion recognition in prisons takes this further: people can theoretically be flagged for their internal states of mind. It’s not just actions that are punished, but also thoughts.

Which groups are most affected?

While AI-enabled surveillance affects all people, ethnic minorities such as Koreans, Mongolians, Tibetans and Uyghurs are disproportionately targeted.

Mainstream LLMs are trained primarily in Mandarin, leaving little commercial incentive to develop AI for minority languages. The Chinese state, however, views those languages as a security vulnerability. State-funded institutions, including the National Key Laboratory at Minzu University, are building LLMs in minority languages, not for cultural preservation, but to power public-opinion control and prevention platforms. These scan text, audio and video in Tibetan and Uyghur to detect cultural advocacy, dissent or religious activity.

Feminist activists, human rights lawyers — particularly since the 709 crackdown in 2015 — labour activists and religious minorities including Falun Gong practitioners face disproportionate targeting. Chinese models consistently adopt state-aligned narratives about such groups, labelling Falun Gong a cult and avoiding human rights framing. Since 2020, Hong Kongers have also been subject to National Security Law surveillance using many of the same tools deployed on the mainland, a reminder that this infrastructure can be rapidly extended.

How can activists in China protect themselves?

Protecting oneself inside China is increasingly difficult. AI leaves very few blind spots. But the system is not perfectly omniscient.

Activists have historically relied on coded speech, euphemisms and satire, the classic example being the use of ‘Winnie the Pooh’ to refer to President Xi Jinping. Because AI struggles with cultural nuance and evolving memes, new linguistic workarounds can temporarily bypass automated filters. But this is a relentless game of Whac-a-Mole: Chinese tech companies employ thousands of human content reviewers whose only job is to catch new memes and feed them back into the AI.

The most practical steps are to use VPNs to access blocked platforms, secure communications apps such as Signal and separate devices for sensitive work. None of these are foolproof. VPN use is technically illegal and increasingly detected and Signal can only be accessed via VPN. It helps to keep a minimal digital footprint and communicate face-to-face on sensitive matters. For activists in Xinjiang, however, surveillance is so pervasive that individual precautions offer little protection. Strong international networks and rigorous documentation practices are essential.

Is China exporting these technologies?

China is the world’s largest exporter of AI-powered surveillance technology, marketing these systems globally, particularly to the global south.

The Chinese state is purposefully expanding its minority-language public-opinion monitoring software throughout Belt and Road Initiative countries, effectively extending its censorship apparatus to monitor Tibetan and Uyghur diaspora communities abroad. Chinese companies including Dahua, Hikvision, Huawei and ZTE have deployed surveillance and ‘safe city’ systems across over 100 countries, with Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates among the most significant recipients. Critically, these companies operate under China’s 2017 National Intelligence Law, which requires cooperation with state intelligence, meaning data flowing through these systems could be accessible to Beijing as well as to purchasing governments.

China is also exporting its governance model through the open-source release of its LLMs, embedding Chinese censorship norms into foundational infrastructure used by developers worldwide.

What should the international community do?

The international community must recognise that countering this requires regulatory pushback.

First, democratic states should set minimum transparency standards for public procurement. This means refusing to purchase AI models that conceal political or historical censorship and mandating that providers publish a ‘moderation log’ with refusal reason codes so users know when content is restricted for political reasons.

Second, states should enact ‘safe-harbour laws’ to protect civil society organisations, journalists and researchers who audit AI models for hidden censorship. Currently, doing so can breach corporate terms of service.

Third, strict export controls should block the transfer of repression-enabling technologies to authoritarian regimes, while companies providing public-opinion management services should be excluded from democratic markets. Existing targeted sanctions on companies such as Dahua and Hikvision for their role in Xinjiang should be enforced more rigorously.

Finally, the international community must recognise that Chinese surveillance extends beyond China’s borders. Spyware targeting Tibetan and Uyghur activists in exile is well-documented, as is pressure on family members remaining in China. Rigorous documentation by international civil society remains essential for building the evidentiary record for future accountability.

CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent.

GET IN TOUCH
Website
LinkedIn
Twitter/X

SEE ALSO
Technology: innovation without accountability CIVICUS | 2026 State of Civil Society Report
The silencing of Hong Kong CIVICUS Lens 25.Jun.2025
The long reach of authoritarianism CIVICUS Lens 20.Mar.2024

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

A gathering organised for the families of victims of Duterte's war on drugs in Quezon City ahead of the opening of the ICC confirmation hearing. The signs which are held up in a few of the pictures read: 'Justice! Jail everyone involved in the war on drugs.' Credit: IDEFEND

By Ed Holt
BRATISLAVA, Mar 17 2026 (IPS)

Gito* had just arrived at his father’s house in Caloocan City in the Philippines on December 7, 2016, when three armed policemen burst into the home, grabbed his father, took him outside and shot him multiple times. Gito told IPS his father had put his hands up when the officers told him they had come to arrest him, but they opened fire anyway.

Then they turned on Gito, who was 15 at the time and had come to see his father to get his lunch money for school. He says they told him his father was a drug dealer and that he would be facing charges because he was with him. He was taken away and tortured – beaten and forced to drink urine – and later jailed for three years. He and his four siblings were all forcibly separated; his mother’s mental health deteriorated, and even after release, Gito needed years of mental health help.

Andrea*, from the same city, told IPS a similar story. One day in October 2017, she and her husband and father-in-law were watching television at their home when two men wearing masks and black jackets and carrying guns burst in, shouting the name of a person none of them knew. Despite their protestations, the two men executed her husband and father-in-law, shooting them many times while they knelt in front of them. Andrea, who was five months pregnant at the time, was also injured in the shooting – a bullet hit her leg.

A priest prays at a gathering organised for the families of victims of Duterte’s war on drugs in Quezon City, ahead of the opening of the ICC confirmation hearing. Credit: IDEFEND

Left without any means of income with both the family’s breadwinners dead, she had to drop out of the vocational course she was on and spiralled into a deep depression. She eventually recovered. “When I looked at my baby, I saw my husband in her, so I picked myself up and faced life bravely,” she explained. She said, though, it is still hard financially, as she also supports her mother-in-law.

Gito’s father, and Andrea’s husband and father-in-law, were just a few of the estimated tens of thousands of victims of the brutally repressive anti-drugs policy implemented by former Philippine president Rodrigo Duterte.

For years, people like Gito and Andrea have fought an often seemingly futile battle for justice for their loved ones even as local and international rights groups have detailed the horrific crimes committed under Duterte’s “war on drugs”.

But a recent hearing at the International Criminal Court (ICC) in The Hague, Netherlands, has given them, and others, hope that they could see justice.

Both Gito and Andrea, along with other relatives of people who were killed under Duterte’s violent crackdown on drug use, were at the Hague during confirmation hearings between February 23 and 27 to decide whether Duterte should stand trial on charges of crimes against humanity linked to his deadly anti-drug crackdown.

Launched in 2016, it remains one of the deadliest anti-narcotics campaigns in modern history, activists say. While official police figures show 6,252 people killed by May 2022, human rights groups estimate there could have been as many as 30,000 deaths, including vigilante-style executions.

The case against Duterte covers 49 incidents of alleged murder and attempted murder, involving 78 victims, including children. But prosecutors at the hearing said these incidents are only a fraction of the thousands of killings attributed to police and hired hitmen during Duterte’s anti-drug campaign.

At the trial the prosecution said that Duterte played a “pivotal” role in a campaign of extrajudicial killings that saw thousands murdered, alleging he personally drew up death lists, incited murders and then boasted about them afterwards.

The court was shown videos of Duterte threatening to murder alleged drug users and boasting of his own skills in extrajudicial killing.

Statements from victims’ relatives submitted at the trial also highlighted the devastating toll the repressive policy had taken on not just individual families but also wider communities which were already impoverished and marginalised.

Illegal drug use in impoverished communities was often a mechanism, the prosecution said when submitting witness testimony, to cope with terrible living conditions. They said victims’ marginalised and vulnerable conditions were exacerbated exponentially when targeted by police and that the campaign against them targeted their humanity.

The prosecution pointed out that victims were often killed in front of their families, usually in their homes and local neighbourhoods, which subsequently became crime scenes. Following the killings, the families were left with not just lasting personal trauma but stigma within their close-knit communities.

Meanwhile, by targeting marginalised groups, law enforcement authorities were specifically going after those who would be least likely to be able to file complaints in the domestic justice system, human rights lawyers at the hearing argued. They said this was calculated to ensure no one was held accountable ultimately for what happened.

Duterte’s defence claimed the 80-year-old did not issue specific orders to kill drug suspects as part of his policy to take down the illegal drug trade in the country. They said that what actions he took were within the law. Duterte himself waived his right to attend the hearing and said he does not recognise the court’s authority.

The ICC has 60 days in which to issue a decision on whether to proceed with the case against Duterte, ask for more evidence, or stop the process against him.

Activists who were at the trial have expressed hope that the case against him will go ahead.

“It was very clear that the prosecution had enough [evidence] to convince the judges that the case should proceed to trial.

“The truth of the matter is that the evidence presented by the prosecution was backed up by true narratives by witnesses and by families themselves who saw how their loved ones were killed,” Rowena Legaspi, spokesperson for the Philippine group In Defense of Rights and Dignity Movement (IDEFEND), told IPS.

Both Gito and Andrea said they were convinced of the strength of the evidence presented, although Gito admitted he feared Duterte might still somehow not be tried.

“This is a grave concern for me. There are fears around political interference or procedural issues that Duterte’s defence may raise in an attempt to stop the proceedings. But I also trust the ICC process and the sufficient documents they have,” he said.

Activists also see the fact that the confirmation hearings have taken place at all as a step towards justice for the victims of Duterte’s drug crackdown.

“For the families of the victims in the court and those watching back in the Philippines, this was like seeing light at the end of the dark day when Duterte was the president. Reaching this stage of confirmation charges continues to at least gradually break the pain that is embedded in them,” Legaspi added.

“This case moving to trial is a step towards healing for all of us,” said Andrea.

Campaigners also see it as essential to ongoing campaigning for justice in the Philippines.

For years, domestic institutions failed to deliver justice, local rights groups say, with findings by rights institutions stonewalled, courts offering no meaningful accountability, and families of victims silenced by fear.

And while Duterte’s arrest and transfer to The Hague was a breakthrough in itself, activists say. They also point out that at the same time, his allies at home continue to push immunity bills and resolutions questioning ICC jurisdiction.

IDEFEND said the hearings are a political and moral test of whether international law can pierce impunity and whether Filipino society will stand with victims against state-sanctioned violence and a litmus test of the Filipino people’s pursuit of accountability.

“Duterte’s arrest and the ICC process prove persistence matters. Leaders cannot forever hide behind power, sovereignty, or dynasties. The law may be slow, but history bends toward accountability when people insist on truth.

“This case is not just about putting Duterte on trial. It affirms that the lives lost — mostly the poor and voiceless — mattered. It restores dignity to families. It exposes the machinery of state violence. And it warns future leaders that mass killings will not be tolerated,” Legaspi said.

“It also challenges the culture of impunity shielding not just Duterte but also his enablers and successors. Senate resolutions, immunity bills, and denial campaigns show the fight is far from over. But every manoeuvre is proof of accountability’s power: they are afraid because truth is catching up,” she added.

Meanwhile, other drug policy reform campaigners say it serves as an example of the massive damage that can be caused by repressive drug policies and sends a strong signal to other leaders implementing similarly brutal, hardline anti-drug campaigns.

“The large-scale human rights violations committed under Duterte’s war on drugs – which have resulted in tens of thousands of extrajudicial killings – are one of the starkest examples of the devastating impacts of punitive drug policies. And the Philippines is not an isolated case. Around the world, lethal force continues to be justified in the name of drug control – mostly in contexts of entrenched impunity,” Marie Nougier, Head of Research and Communications at the International Drug Policy Consortium (IDPC), told IPS.

“The decision by the International Criminal Court to pursue the case of Duterte sends an important signal: drug control cannot be used as a pretext for unlawful killings and the erosion of fundamental rights, and that political leaders are not beyond the reach of international law,” she added.

Back in the Philippines, the drug policies Duterte implemented remain in place and there continue to be drug-related killings, although not at the levels seen under Duterte.

And nearly a decade on from when Duterte’s hardline policies were introduced, only nine police officers have been convicted. Rights groups such as Human Rights Watch (HRW) say the vast majority of those responsible, including senior officials, have not faced any repercussions.

Legaspi said there have been some bills introduced by lawmakers on possible investigations of extrajudicial killings and discussion of treating drug use as a health issue rather than criminal and looking at harm-reduction measures to combat it.

She added, though, that Duterte’s drug policies had “an impact so huge that it continues to be felt to this day”.

Both Gito and Andrea said they were hopeful the hearings may bring about some change in the country’s drug policy.

In the meantime, though, both are waiting to see what the ICC decides and hoping for justice.

“For me, justice will be fully served when Duterte has been convicted and his co-perpetrators of the drug war have also been arrested, detained, and convicted. That is justice for me,” said Gito.

*Identity protected for their safety.
IPS UN Bureau Report

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

Sima Bahous, Executive Director of UN Women, addresses the opening of the Seventieth Session of the Commission on the Status of Women. Credit: UN Photo/Evan Schneider

By Oritro Karim
UNITED NATIONS, Mar 17 2026 (IPS)

The 70th session of the Commission on the Status of Women (CSW70) has brought together global leaders, gender equity advocates, and youth representatives at the United Nations (UN) Headquarters to advance efforts to strengthen mechanisms for justice, equality, and representation for women and girls worldwide. With challenges particularly pronounced in conflict zones, this year’s priority theme —“ensuring and strengthening access to justice for all women and girls — focuses on repealing discriminatory laws and addressing persistent structural barriers that prevent women and girls from being fully heard, represented, and treated equally.

At the opening of the session in March 9, the CSW adopted its Agreed Conclusions, which emphasized the need to improve access to justice for women and girls, following a week of spirited discussions among member states. During these discussions, several countries, including the United States, Argentina, Saudi Arabia, and Russia, proposed objections in which they sought to modify language that strongly supported these reforms and to revisit provisions from previous agreements.

These efforts elicited significant pushback from other member states, who argued that such objections would undermine years of progress in gender equity reforms. The Chair of the CSW ultimately decided to preserve some core elements of previous agreements while incorporating progressive changes.

As the Commission convened to adopt the outcome, efforts to halt these changes were brought forward by the U.S., which argued that the provisions included “controversial” and “ideological” issues. These efforts ultimately failed, gaining votes from only the U.S. Other states, including Egypt and Nigeria, called for a delay in the voting process to allow time for continued negotiations.

“At a time of severe backlash on human rights and multilateralism, the adoption of Agreed Conclusions that safeguard long-standing gender equality standards is a powerful signal that global commitments still matter and that attempts to turn back the clock will not go unchallenged,” said Agnès Callamard, Amnesty International’s Secretary General.

“While the loss of consensus is disappointing, a weakened text – or no outcome at all – would have sent an especially troubling signal to women and girls who continue to face barriers to access to justice, and multiple and intersecting forms of discrimination. In a climate marked by widespread impunity, Amnesty reiterates its calls on states to step up resistance to attacks on gender justice,” added Callamard.

Women currently hold only about 64 percent of the legal rights afforded to men, with “discriminatory laws and patriarchal norms” continuing to impede progress towards justice. These disparities are particularly pronounced in conflict settings, where women and girls face heightened risks of violence, displacement, and exclusion from justice, opportunities, and decision-making.

“We meet at a time of multiple global crises, peace eludes us, and the world is extremely and increasingly fragmented. And gender inequality is compounded by the evils of war and conflict, from Afghanistan to Haiti, to Iran, Myanmar, Palestine, South Sudan, Sudan, Syria, Ukraine, Yemen, and beyond,” said UN Women Executive Director Sima Bahous at the opening of the 70th session of the CSW. “When women and girls are denied justice, the damage goes far beyond any single case: it impacts the very fabric of our societies and good governance. Public trust erodes, institutions lose legitimacy, and the rule of law itself is weakened. A justice system that fails half the population cannot claim to uphold justice at all.”

Legal protections from discrimination and exploitation, and access to essential services are rapidly eroding, while female human rights defenders are increasingly under attack. Sexual and reproductive health rights are also being rolled back, and the UN has recorded an 87 percent increase in cases of conflict-related sexual violence over the past two years. Women and children in conflict zones continue to bear the heaviest burdens of violence and displacement. Currently, the number of women and girls living within 50 kilometers of deadly conflict is at its highest level in decades.

In commemoration of CSW70, IPS spoke with Anna, a 20 year-old Ukrainian activist and member of the UNICEF Global Girl Leaders Advisory Group. This initiative brings together 14 adolescent girl leaders from around the world who work to ensure that the perspectives of women and girls are represented in global decision-making, and present recommendations directly to the UNICEF Executive Board.

Anna was a teenager studying abroad when the conflict in Ukraine erupted, and was unable to return home to her family near the border. Since then, she has experienced significant challenges as a result of the war, compounded by limited access to essential services, such as education and psychosocial support, many of which have been disrupted or placed under strain by the war.

“When war begins, the changes in society are immediate and visible,” said Anna. “Frontlines move, cities are destroyed, and millions of people are forced to leave their homes. When many men go to the front, women often become the pillars holding communities together – running local initiatives, leading volunteer networks, managing businesses, and supporting families.”

Such shifts also bring structural struggles, as many women are forced to leave their homes and move with their children or elderly relatives. Such displacement can cause loneliness and uncertainty, Anna explained. While women take on more responsibility, inequality does not disappear. “Women still face salary gaps, stereotypes about leadership, and the expectation that they should both rebuild society and quietly carry the emotional labor of caring for everyone else. Stopping to fully process everything can feel impossible, because another responsibility, another task, or another crisis immediately takes its place.”

Anna speaking at a UNICEF-supported event dedicated to discussing the challenges and solutions for girls and young women in Ukraine who are not in education, employment or training. Credit: ISAR Ednannia /Serhii Piriev

In Ukraine today, roughly 32 percent of women aged 20-24 and nearly 49 percent of women aged 25-29 are left without access to education, employment, or training, compared to about 16.4 percent and 12.2 percent of men in the same age groups, respectively. In times of conflict, women are often the first to lose these opportunities and the last to regain them. Education for girls is often hardest-hit, as families are displaced and conflicts leave girls to take on added responsibilities to their families and support household incomes. Many are forced to drop out of school to keep their families afloat.

“My own educational journey has been deeply shaped by war. I was first displaced to Poland, and when I returned to Kharkiv for my senior year, continuing my studies was far from easy,” said Anna. “I consider myself incredibly privileged. I had a supportive family that believed in me and helped me keep going. But not every girl has that kind of support system – someone to catch her when she begins to fall behind.”

Additionally, the psychosocial strain of conflict and violence often leaves girls ill-equipped to engage in studies or training programs. With mechanisms for justice, healing, and empowerment for women and girls under attack, these challenges often go unheard, and impunity for sexual violence and abuse persists, leaving girls carrying significant amounts of trauma, anxiety, depression, and fear.

“Girls in crisis often carry a kind of psychological burden that is both invisible and personal – it is not only the direct exposure to violence, but the way war quietly settles into everyday life and into the body,” said Anna. “For many women and girls living near conflict zones, mental health is shaped by the constant proximity to violence. “You wake up, check the news, hear another siren, and feel what we call in Ukrainian a ‘ком в горлі’,’ or a lump in the throat.”

Sexual violence is particularly rampant near conflict zones, with Anna noting a persistent “climate of fear that reaches every woman who hears the story”. She added that many girls in Ukraine grow up with the knowledge that their bodies can become targets of violence. While girls are in school, studying for exams, or volunteering, many carry the awareness that women nearby have endured “unimaginable violence”.

According to a UN report, nearly 54 percent of surveyed countries reported having laws that do not correlate rape with the basis of consent, and roughly 75 percent of surveyed countries have laws that permit the forced marriage of a girl child. Additionally, 44 percent of countries lack laws that guarantee equal pay for women and girls. It is estimated that it could take 286 years to eliminate these gaps.

“The justice women and girls deserve, that is theirs by right, cannot wait. We must collectively pursue it, here at the United Nations, in our national laws and policies, in your court rooms and traditional justice mechanisms. In doing so, we must engage all of society, including men and boys and young people, to contribute to our collective effort for equality,” said Bahous.

IPS UN Bureau Report

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

Credit: Marcelo Del Pozo/Reuters via Gallo Images

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.

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

 
CIVICUS discusses the situation in Venezuela following US intervention and the ousting of President Nicolás Maduro with Verónica Zubillaga, a Venezuelan sociologist who specialises in urban violence, state repression and community responses to armed violence.

Verónica Zubillaga

Is the recently announced amnesty a real opening or a strategic manoeuvre?

We are at an unprecedented crossroads. Venezuela and its Chavista regime, under US tutelage and despite two decades of anti-imperialist rhetoric, are reconfiguring themselves in such a way that some opening could result. However, there is still a risk that an authoritarian model will be consolidated, with economic and humanitarian concessions, but without real democratisation.

The release of political prisoners — a constant demand in all negotiations with international support, and a low-cost form of early opening for the interim government that has taken over from Maduro — could function as a stepping stone towards democratisation. The restoration of civil, political and social rights will be a difficult and lengthy struggle in this context of such deprivation, in which our rights have been violated for so long.

In the first half of February, there were partial and gradual releases, but hundreds of people remained in detention. The enactment of the Amnesty Law on 19 February has accelerated the releases.

The announcement was presented as a political concession, not as a recognition of the extensive human rights violations committed by Maduro’s government. There has been no mention yet of initiating processes to seek the truth, hold those responsible accountable, provide reparations or dismantle the repressive apparatus, which are urgent.

We therefore need to react with caution. The release of people deprived of their liberty for political reasons is essential, but it cannot replace a broader agenda of justice, reparation and institutional transformation.

How has civil society worked to keep this issue at the centre of the debate?

The cause of political prisoners is cross-cutting. There are detained people of different ages, social classes and political backgrounds. In a society as polarised as ours, this is one of the few causes around which there is broad consensus.

After the results of the presidential election of 28 July 2024, which the opposition clearly won, were disregarded, it was mainly people from the working classes who took to the streets to protest. Many young people, including teenagers, were arrested and imprisoned. This situation significantly deepened the social dimension of the problem, highlighted the break between the ruling party and its traditional base and consolidated the brutally authoritarian nature and illegitimacy of Maduro’s government.

There is also an important gender dimension. While many young men are in prison, it is women – mothers, sisters and other relatives – who have organised committees, vigils and public actions demanding their release. Symbolically, the figure of the grieving mother demanding the release of her children is particularly powerful. It is a symbol that appeals to the Latin American imagination about women and their cries for democratisation, justice and reparation in the context of crumbling authoritarian regimes.

Recently, the demand for the release of political prisoners has also been raised by the student movement in its call for a rally at the Central University of Venezuela. After a year and a half of brutal repression following the 2024 election, which emptied the streets and created a climate of widespread fear, any public demonstration is a significant sign that could trigger a chain of progressive demands and the vindication of civil, political and social rights.

What has been the impact of the USA’s renewed interest in Venezuelan oil?

It is clear that the Trump administration is fixated on oil and investment opportunities and completely disregards democracy and human rights. The part of the opposition represented by María Corina Machado has been stunned by its exclusion from key decision-making despite its efforts to gain Donald Trump’s attention. This exclusion has altered the internal political balance.

Historically, there has been tension within the Venezuelan opposition between those who favour resorting to external pressure and those who prioritise internal negotiation strategies. Since 2014, two main strategies have coexisted: one that is more confrontational, demanding the immediate end of the government, and another favouring negotiation or elections. Civil society mirrors these same divisions. One of the difficulties of the Venezuelan process is this constant fragmentation and internal disagreements within the opposition. As the government has become more authoritarian, these divisions have prevented more powerful coordinated political action. It is important for the opposition to coordinate strategies and, instead of wearing itself down in these disagreements, coordinate efforts to move strategically between confrontation and negotiation.

Whenever the opposition has managed to coordinate, as in the 2015 legislative and 2024 presidential elections, it made significant gains. During the 2024 campaign led by Machado, the opposition achieved an unprecedented level of coordination, generating enormous collective hope, particularly with regard to the prospect of family reunification in a country with over eight million migrants. This situation affects people of all social classes and political ideologies. But in response, the government redoubled its repression and consolidated the dictatorship. This led to frustration, demobilisation and further fragmentation. The opposition lacked a long-term strategy to sustain its gains and withstand setbacks. This is still one of the biggest challenges today.

What should the international community do to contribute to real democratisation?

The international community, and Latin American states in particular, could have taken a firmer stance after the 2024 electoral fraud. Silence and a lukewarm approach weakened the defence of democracy. Now it should not repeat that mistake. Beyond Maduro’s profound delegitimisation, the US military operation in Venezuela is a sign of what could happen to any Latin American country under the US government’s new national security strategy.

With the USA as an imperial power primarily concerned with its geostrategic interests and oil resources, demands for democratisation may take a back seat. An authoritarian model that is economically stable but without real democratisation could become entrenched.

In this context, the USA’s prioritisation of energy interests is worrying. It is an unprecedented scenario in which external intervention and the permanence of the ruling party in power coexist. The situation is highly volatile, and this has only just begun. A period of instability and political violence could follow if the civil-military coalition in power breaks down, which may happen given the tradition of anti-imperialist discourse rooted in the armed forces during the two and a half decades of Chavista rule.

Ironically, the USA’s focus on energy interests could result in the defence of sovereignty becoming a new unifying cause for the Venezuelan opposition, potentially leading to basic agreements between the ruling party post-Maduro and the opposition to defend Venezuelan oil interests. What’s at stake is recovering politics as an exercise involving conflict and struggle, as well as recognition and exchange for democratic coexistence — something we have lost, particularly over the past decade.

CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent

GET IN TOUCH
LinkedIn
Twitter

SEE ALSO
‘Although the repressive architecture remains intact, a small window of hope has opened’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Luz Mely Reyes 05.Feb.2026
Venezuela: democracy no closer CIVICUS Lens 29.Jan.2026
‘We are seeing an economic transition, but no democratic transition’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Guillermo Miguelena 26.Jan.2026

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

Anne Hathaway, UN Women Goodwill Ambassador, addresses the United Nations Observance of International Women's Day 2026 on the theme: ‘Rights, Justice, Action for ALL Women and Girls.’ Credit: UN Photo/Evan Schneider

By Naureen Hossain
UNITED NATIONS, Mar 9 2026 (IPS)

On International Women’s Day (March 8), global leaders and advocates gather around the rallying cry to strengthen justice systems for all women and girls in a time of increasing pushbacks on gender equality.

The United Nations held its annual observance of International Women’s Day on March 9, commemorating the day and the beginning of the 70th session of the Commission of the Status of Women (CSW), which will be held from 9-19 March. This year’s theme is on “Ensuring and strengthening access to justice for all women and girls”. Stakeholders will participate in meetings and side events throughout the next two weeks to deliberate over the issue of justice for women and girls across multiple, complex contexts.

Speakers at the commemorative event, held in the General Assembly Hall, all called for increased investments into strengthening justice systems and to ensure accountability. No country has achieved true gender parity, and in recent years has seen the backsliding of rights for women and girls.

Justice is the “non-negotiable foundation of rights”, said UN Women Executive Director Sima Bahous. As women’s rights are confronted with an “ever virulent and adaptative” pushback that continues to threaten their place in society. “In its face, we do not back down, we redouble our efforts, we rise higher.”

“Today’s conversation is about closing the gap between the rights women are promised and the justice they actually experience, said Sade Baderinwa, WABC-TV News Anchor. “For the first time in a long time, many young women are questioning whether the progress they were promised is real… Women around the world are asking the same question: “Are we still moving forward?” And the answers will be shaped by the choices we make right now. Progress does not move on its own. It moves because people insist that it must.”

Women’s contributions have demonstrably proven to advance economies and peaceful agendas. Annalena Baerbock, President of the UN General Assembly, reminded the room that within the context of the United Nations, women’s rights are “embedded in this institution from the very beginning”, as seen with the drafting of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, which included key contributions from delegates from India, Pakistan and the Dominican Republic.

When it comes to legal protections, women have only 64 percent of legal rights compared to men. According to UN Women, this leaves them vulnerable to discrimination, violence and exclusion. The rights of women and girls are not enforced equally across the world. Systemic inequalities further complicate this for women and girls and prevent them from seeking justice, such as lack of access to those systems, societal discrimination or fear of retaliation.

“Despite widespread recognition of women’s rights,[…] access to justice remains deeply unequal. Around the world, women and girls still hold only a fraction of the legal rights afforded to men. Discriminatory laws and practices continue to fail the very women they are meant to serve,” said Earle Courtenay Rattray, the Chéf de Cabinete to the UN Secretary-General.

“It’s hard to bear the knowledge that the distance between the promise of equality and the experience of it are yet still so far apart for so many,” said Anne Hathaway. The award-winning actress and UN Women Goodwill Ambassador remarked on the continued efforts of the generations of activists and survivors to advocate for equality in the face of injustice.

“Are we not all tormented that societal progress for all women has, in large part, been in response to extreme gender violence? Are we not tormented by what women like Gisèle Pelicot, Virginia Giuffre and Malala Yousafzai, to name three amongst half the world, have had to endure? These women and girls had the bravery to demand justice when horrific violence was forced on them, and in doing so, by honoring their own right to dignity, changed the world? Are we not tormented by this cost of change?”

Nobel Laureate and education activist Malala Yousafzai addresses the addresses the United Nations Observance of International Women’s Day 2026. Credit: Naureen Hossain/IPS

In the face of such systemic injustices, the work and resilience of women and girls must be encouraged and celebrated, Hathaway said.

“Our choosing to celebrate today does not signal that we are here to accommodate injustice. Our celebration today affirms our determination to outlast it.”

Justice has been further complicated in the present age where modern technology can be used to improve access but is also weaponized to enact harm and discrimination. In times of conflict, where women and children are often made most vulnerable, their rights are threatened even when international law call for their protection. There is increasing impunity within systems of inequality that permit the violations of rights.

“Never have I seen so many children suffering from war and violence. Injured and dying at the hands of unaccountable leaders,” said Malala Yousafzai, education activist and Nobel Laureate. She referenced recent events in the Middle East where missile strikes hit schools in Iran, killing more than 150 children.

Afghan musician and singer Sunbul Reha (at podium) addresses the United Nations Observance of International Women’s Day 2026. Credit: Naureen Hossain/IPS

“True justice does not defend the humanity of children in one place then ignored in another. It is not selectively applied…We must ask ourselves why justice is a privilege extending to some and withheld from others.”

Afghanistan is an example of the consequences of rolling back hard-fought rights and legal protections. Since the Taliban took control in 2021, women and girls there have seen a steady rollback of their rights and have been forced out of participating in public life. Yousafzai demanded leaders to “move from sympathy to accountability” in addressing this ongoing crisis. Afghan women and girls are asking for their recognition in law so that the “long work of justice can begin”, she said.

“I know what it means when a girl’s work is silenced. I have lived it,” said Sunbul Reha, an Afghan singer and musician. “Rights that took generations to win are evaporating before our eyes. And still, I remain hopeful. Because girls like me are still learning… Women continue to speak up for their rights, and young people everywhere refuse to give up the fight.”

Reha urged the delegates in the room to fight to “block the erosion” of women’s and girls’ rights. “There are millions of girls standing in spirit with me. They are counting on all of us, and they are counting on you.”

IPS UN Bureau Report

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

Credit: Marco Longari/AFP

By Inés M. Pousadela
MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay, Mar 9 2026 (IPS)

Consider what International Women’s Day looked like a few years ago, and what it looks like now: the same date, the same global moment of reflection, but a vastly changed global landscape. Gender rights are facing the most coordinated and wide-ranging attack in decades. Anti-rights forces are dismantling protections secured after generations of struggle, destroying infrastructure built to address gender-based violence and realise reproductive rights and rewriting legal frameworks to roll back rights, with a specific focus on excluding transgender people. This is the result of a deliberate, carefully crafted, handsomely funded and globally coordinated strategy.

Fortunately, resistance is proving harder to extinguish than those driving the backlash had expected. Another International Women’s Day of mobilisation is here to prove it.

A regressive template

While attacks have been building for years, the global landscape shifted quickly in January 2025, when a newly inaugurated Donald Trump signed executive orders imposing a rigid binary classification of sex across federal law, stripping non-discrimination protections for LGBTQI+ people in healthcare and housing, and banning diversity, equity and inclusion policies across the federal government. Because the USA had been the world’s largest bilateral donor, the simultaneous dismantling of USAID and expansion of the global gag rule — blocking US funding to organisations that provide abortions or advocate for abortion rights — had immediate effects on women and girls all over the world, with particularly deadly consequences in conflict zones, rural areas and the world’s poorest countries.

Elsewhere, regressive forces were already mobilising – and Trump’s example only emboldened them. Hungary banned Pride marches and authorised surveillance to enforce compliance. Slovakia and the UK redefined sex as exclusively biological, stripping legal recognition from non-binary and transgender people. Burkina Faso criminalised same-sex relations and their ‘promotion’. Trinidad and Tobago’s Court of Appeal reinstated colonial-era penalties for homosexuality of up to 25 years in prison. Kazakhstan introduced a Russian-style ban on positive LGBTQI+ representation in education, media and online platforms.

It’s striking how consistent the underlying logic is across different political and regional contexts: gender equality is framed as a dangerous ‘ideology’, feminism is demonised as a foreign imposition, LGBTQI+ visibility is portrayed as a threat to children. The similarities reflect a coordinated effort to manufacture cultural conflict to consolidate hierarchies, strengthen elite authority and deflect attention from economic and political failures.

The backlash has reached the international institutions that have long served feminist movements as key arenas for developing a common language, setting a shared agenda and coordinating action across borders. A milestone in anti-rights advances was observed at the United Nations Commission on the Status of Women’s 69th session last year, where a well-organised anti-rights bloc succeeded in stripping longstanding references to sexual and reproductive health and rights from the meeting’s Political Declaration.

What resistance looks like

Yet regression is not going uncontested: not in the streets, not in the courts and not even in the world’s most repressive settings.

In Hungary, tens of thousands defied the Pride ban in Budapest, risking prosecution to assert their right to be visible in public space. In South Africa, sustained civil society pressure, including over a million signatures demanding action, compelled the government to declare gender-based violence and femicide a national disaster. In St Lucia, the Eastern Caribbean Supreme Court struck down colonial-era laws criminalising same-sex relations. Courts in Malawi and Nigeria recognised the right to safe abortion for sexual violence survivors. The UK finally repealed a Victorian-era law that had continued to criminalise abortion in England and Wales. Denmark and Norway improved access to abortion services. Marriage equality came into force in both Liechtenstein and Thailand. At least three European Union member states — the Czech Republic, France and Poland — adopted consent-based definitions of rape.

Even in the most difficult of circumstances, under Afghanistan’s system of gender apartheid, women are maintaining underground schools, keeping solidarity networks alive and documenting abuses, setting their sights on future justice processes.

While the list of advances is impressive, some of the most important contemporary victories are invisible: stalled bills, softened provisions, laws not passed because civil society refused to stand aside. An attempt to repeal The Gambia’s ban on female genital mutilation was blocked. Kenya’s anti-LGBTQI+ Family Protection Bill remains stalled. In Latvia, when conservative forces moved in October 2025 to withdraw from the Istanbul Convention on violence against women, large-scale protests and a civil society petition won what could be a crucial delay. These defensive successes rarely make headlines, but they result from sustained, unglamorous advocacy and coalition work. Without them, the most extreme proposals would advance much further and faster.

Rising to the challenge

Recognition of rights is never permanent. It’s won through sustained struggle and can be reversed through organised opposition from those who perceive other people’s rights as a threat to their privilege. Backlash isn’t a historical anomaly but a predictable counter-mobilisation, and civil society has met it as such, by organising, mobilising, litigating and refusing to concede ground.

This is precisely what CIVICUS’s 2026 State of Civil Society Report, set for release on 12 March, sets out to document. The report examines the state of the world and civil society action throughout 2025 and early 2026 – including a dedicated chapter on women’s and LGBTQI+ people’s rights – and reveals strong patterns of resistance. Across regions and political contexts, it shows how civil society understands the scale of the attack and is responding in every possible way.

As this International Women’s Day will once again make clear, the backlash is organised and strong. But so is the resistance.

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.

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

In Japan, the youth group donated the proceeds from their recycling to single-mother families with hospitalized children through the NPO Keep Mama Smiling. Credit: Karuta Yamamoto.

By Karuta Yamamoto
TOKYO, Japan, Mar 6 2026 (IPS)

From the beginning, this project was a collaboration between student teams in Japan and Korea. Although we live in different countries, we shared one common question: How can young people reduce waste while supporting families facing food insecurities?
Our journey began with a problem we could see clearly in our communities.

In Japan, food insecurity often hides behind quiet dignity. According to a recent survey by Save the Children Japan, over 90 percent of low-income households with children reported struggling to afford enough food, with many families forced to cut back on even basic staples such as rice due to rising prices.

The Japan and Korean team of all 11 students presented ‘The Co-creation of Youth from Waste to Hope’ at the 9th Tokyo International Conference on African Development (TICAD 9) Thematic Event. Credit: Ticad 9

The Japanese team leader, Karuta Yamamoto, and the Korean team presented ‘What we want in Africa for the future’ at the Seoul National University, Seoul, Korea, during TICAD 9.

Japan and Korea Team Leader, Karuta Yamamoto and Emma Shin, in an interview with UNFPA Seoul. Credit: Karuta Yamamoto

The Korean team set up a shop at a bazaar at Arumjigi, Seoul, Korea. Credit: Karuta Yamamoto

Single-parent households—most led by mothers—face especially high levels of food hardship and are often compelled to make painful decisions about how limited budgets are spent. For some families, this means choosing between symbolic moments of celebration and everyday nutrition. A ¥3,000 Christmas cake may represent joy for one household, but for another, that same amount must stretch to five kilograms of rice—enough to feed a family for several days.

At the same time, vast amounts of edible food are wasted in Japan. Official statistics show that millions of tons of food are discarded annually in Japan, much of it still edible. Seasonal items such as Christmas cakes, which cannot be sold after December 25, are frequently thrown away. This contrast—waste on one side and hunger on the other—reflects the global challenge addressed by SDG 12: Responsible Consumption and Production.

As students in Japan and Korea, we asked ourselves, “What role can we play in closing this gap?”

We knew that awareness alone would not change habits. enough. Instead of telling people to feel guilty about food waste, we decided to take action together.

We began locally, but with shared purpose.

In Japan, students at Dalton Tokyo Senior High School noticed that mandarin oranges—one of the country’s most common fruits—often go uneaten, with peels and seeds discarded. In Korea, students identified a different issue: more than 150,000 tons of used coffee grounds are discarded each year, contributing to landfill emissions and greenhouse gas emissions.

Different materials.

One shared goal.

Rather than seeing waste as the end of a product’s life, we saw it as a beginning.

Research shows that citrus peels contain essential oils that can be used in soaps and cleaning products. Studies in Korea also demonstrate that spent coffee grounds can be processed into sustainable biomaterials suitable for eco-friendly design and 3D printing. Plantable seed paper—made from recycled paper embedded with seeds—is another example of how waste can be transformed into something regenerative.

Inspired by these ideas, our student teams turned theory into action.

Japanese students created handmade soaps using discarded citrus peels.

Handmade soaps using discarded citrus peels. Credit: Karuta Yamamoto

The soaps ready for sale. Credit: Karuta Yamamoto

Korean students developed 3D-printed clip-on vases incorporating recycled coffee grounds, encouraging people to reuse empty bottles and cups instead of discarding them.

The Korean students developed 3D-printed clip-on vases incorporating recycled coffee grounds. Credit: Karuta Yamamoto

They also produced plantable seed paper from recycled materials, allowing waste to literally grow into flowers and herbs.

Korean students produced plantable seed paper from recycled materials. Credit: Karuta Yamamoto.

These products were not sold as charity goods. Instead, they were shared as examples of responsible consumption—showing that waste can have a second life through our design. Through this work, we directly supported SDG 12: Responsible Consumption and Production, which calls for reducing waste through recycling and reuse, and SDG 13: Climate Action, by lowering emissions through upcycling.

At the same time, the funds raised had a clear purpose.

The profits were used to support families facing food insecurity. In Japan, we donated to single-mother families with hospitalized children through the NPO Keep Mama Smiling (see main photo for the opinion piece).

They also provided essential cooking ingredients to the Karuizawa Food Bank. By connecting environmental action with helping families in need, our project also supported SDG 2: Zero Hunger.

The group provided cooking ingredients to the Karuizawa Food Bank. Credit: Karuta Yamamoto

Through this experience, we learned that caring for the planet and caring for people are not separate goals. Waste reduction and hunger relief became connected in one youth-led effort—turning environmental responsibility into community solidarity.

But our collaboration did not stop in Japan and Korea.

Through a partnership with the OneSmile Foundation—an organization that transforms digital smiles into donations—we connected our local initiatives to a global challenge. During workshops, we learned that school meal donations in Lesotho had stopped the previous year. Without reliable meals, many students were struggling to focus in class.

Together, our Japanese and Korean teams raised over 300,000 Japanese yen.

The Japanese and Korean teams celebrate their fundraising efforts. Credit: Karuta Yamamoto

Working with local partners in Lesotho, we organized a community-based food support initiative at Rasetimela High School, which serves 863 students. School feeding programs play a critical role in Lesotho, and recent disruptions have left many students more vulnerable to hunger.

Students at Rasetimela High School in Lesotho receive donations of food. Courtesy: Rasetimela High School

Ninety-one of the most vulnerable students were selected through transparent criteria, including those supported by social welfare programs and those who had previously relied on international assistance. Each selected family received staple foods such as rice and corn flour to make a local staple called pap. Distribution was organized near the school to ensure safety and allow parents to collect the supplies securely.

This cross-border effort—connecting students, NGOs, local leaders, and communities—reflects the spirit of SDG 17: Partnerships for the Goals.

Although we live in different countries, climates, and cultures, this experience reshaped how we understand global cooperation. The students in Lesotho were not distant beneficiaries. We became peers in a shared world.

They became peers in a shared world. Courtesy: Rasetimela High School

As young people, we often believe our impact is limited because we do not control large resources. This project challenged that belief. We learned that we can create change by designing solutions, raising awareness, and working together.

We even tried to measure what we called a “Happiness Index” by counting the smiles of students who received support. Those smiles reminded us that sustainability is not only environmental or economic—it is human.

Our experience shows that youth are not just future leaders. We are active contributors today. When creativity meets collaboration, waste can become opportunity, and local action can grow into global solidarity.

Turning waste into hope is not an abstract idea.
It is a choice—and young people are already making it.

Edited by Dr Hanna Yoon

IPS UN Bureau Report

IPS UN Bureau Report

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

Cooking food to distribute free to children. The meals are made with food that is close to its expiry date. Workshop with Karuizawa Food Bank. Credit: Ippei Takemura

By Ippei Takemura
MIYAGI PREFECTURE, Japan, Mar 6 2026 (IPS)

I recently came across a statistic that stopped me in my tracks.

According to the World Health Organization (WHO), Japan has the highest suicide rate among the G7 countries. Even more alarming, suicide is the leading cause of death among people in their teens and twenties. Among elementary, junior high, and high school students, the most common factors linked to suicide are “school-related issues,” including academic pressure and difficulties with peer relationships.

At the same time, the number of children who do not attend school is rising every year. In 2023, Japan’s Ministry of Education reported that more than 340,000 elementary and junior high school students were chronically absent—a record high. These two realities are not separate problems. They are deeply connected.

Truancy is often misunderstood as a lack of motivation or discipline. In reality, it is rooted in complex emotional and psychological struggles that cannot be reduced to a single cause. Rather than treating truancy itself as the problem, society must ask a deeper question: Are we creating environments where young people feel safe, accepted, and understood?

I know this struggle firsthand. I began missing school just three days after entering junior high. My family had lived overseas for many years due to my parents’ work, and returning to Japan left me emotionally exhausted. I found comfort in playing online games with close friends I had made abroad, but while I was holding on to those connections, I missed the chance to build new ones at my new school. Before I realized it, I was caught in a cycle of frequent absences that lasted nearly three years.

What helped me break that cycle was not a dramatic intervention but a small and unexpected turning point. I joined a monthly, off-campus workshop focused on the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). To my surprise, students from my school were also participating. Because we shared a genuine interest in global issues, conversation came naturally as we worked together on projects. Eventually, we began spending time together outside the workshop. For the first time in a long while, I started looking forward to going to school again.

That experience taught me a powerful lesson: shared interests and common ground are the foundation of human connection.

Learn about the Internet of Things (IoT) using a toy. ‘Let’s upcycle’ workshop with the One Smile Foundation. Credit: Ippei Takemura

What’s the importance of gender in Japan? Workshop with Plan International, Japan. Credit: Ippei Takemura

Provide children with free meals made from food that is close to its expiry date. Workshop with Karuizawa Food Bank. Credit: Ippei Takemura

A place where someone feels safe and comfortable is different for everyone. Sociologist Ray Oldenburg describes this idea through the concept of a “Third Place”—a space that exists beyond home (the first place) and school or work (the second place). Third places allow people to relax, connect, and simply be themselves. Finding such a place was the catalyst that inspired me to want to create similar spaces for others.

Social connection is not optional for human beings. It is essential for mental and physical health, helping to reduce stress, strengthen cognitive function, and foster a sense of belonging. However, people connect at different speeds. Some are naturally outgoing, while others need time and distance before they feel ready to engage. A truly inclusive third place respects these differences.

Based on my experiences, I believe there are three key elements that make a third place successful. First, it must include both spaces for solitude and spaces for interaction, with a clear separation between the two. Some people need time to observe and feel comfortable before speaking. A quiet area allows them to exist without pressure and to join others when they are ready.

Second, there should be shared activities. When people gather around common interests—whether environmental issues, crafts, or sports—conversation becomes easier, and relationships develop more naturally.

Finally, many people struggle to take the first step socially. Having facilitators or mentors who can gently initiate activities or conversations can make a huge difference.

One place that embodies these principles is the Moriumius Summer Camp in Miyagi Prefecture, which I have attended since elementary school. In high school, I joined for the first time as a staff intern. The organizers intentionally build community by using shared work as a catalyst for connection.

Campers collaborate on everyday tasks such as cooking (photo ①), preparing fish, starting fires (photo ②), and cleaning. These shared responsibilities create trust and a sense of equality. Beyond that, participants can deepen relationships through activities aligned with their interests, including crafts (photo ③), marine sports, gardening, and farming. During one workshop, I befriended an elementary school student who was making a bamboo fishing rod and shaping slate into a knife. We connected naturally through our shared love of creating things. Because everyone at the camp already enjoys outdoor life, friendships form more easily—and shared hobbies strengthen them even further.

Campers help with cooking. Credit: Ippei Takemura

Campers can collaborate on starting fires and cleaning. Credit: Ippei Takemura

Participants can deepen relationships through activities aligned with their interests, including crafts. Credit: Ippei Takemura

A place can be more than just an escape. It can be the first step toward healing, renewed confidence, and hope. When young people find a space where they feel safe enough to be themselves, they often rediscover the courage to reconnect—with others, with learning, and with their own sense of possibility.

This is why I want to continue supporting the creation of spaces that can become “someone’s own place”—places where young people feel seen, valued, and free to grow at their own pace. Sometimes, finding the right space is all it takes for someone to realize that they belong.

Yet this need for belonging is not unique to one school or one country. Around the world, young people are facing increasing isolation, academic pressure, and mental health challenges. Rising youth suicide rates and growing school disengagement reflect a global crisis. When young people are left without spaces where they feel safe, heard, and supported, the consequences extend far beyond classrooms and households—they shape the future of entire societies.

Creating and protecting “third places,” therefore, is not merely a personal or local effort; it is a global responsibility. Governments, schools, communities, and international organizations must work together to invest in inclusive environments where young people can connect through shared interests, express themselves without fear, and rebuild a sense of belonging. Doing so directly supports the Sustainable Development Goals, particularly SDG 3 (Good Health and Well-Being) and SDG 4 (Quality Education), by addressing mental health, social inclusion, and equitable access to supportive learning spaces.

Every young person deserves a place where they feel safe enough to take their first step forward. By listening to youth voices and turning commitment into action, we can move from awareness to impact—and from isolation to hope. The future depends not only on how we educate young people but also on whether we give them places where they truly belong.

Edited by Dr Hanna Yoon

IPS UN Bureau Report

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

Discussion circles at the Dalton Junior High School, Japan. Credit: Miko Nakano

By Miko Nakano
TOKYO, Japan, Mar 6 2026 (IPS)

Around the world, conflicts often begin not with violence, but with assumptions. When people judge others before understanding them, labels replace dialogue—and division replaces trust. For young people growing up in an increasingly polarized world, learning to listen may be one of the most powerful tools for peace.

“We unilaterally assume that people we have never met are demons—and repeat the same mistakes.”

This line from the anime Attack on Titan made me stop and think. In the story, enemies who were taught to hate each other finally meet and realize they are human beings with fears, families, and dreams.

But this pattern is not fiction. Throughout history, societies have judged others before understanding them. During the Crusades, opposing sides saw each other only as threats. In modern times, media narratives and online discussions sometimes simplify complex issues into “good” versus “evil.” Once labels are applied, empathy becomes difficult.

Conversation time with children who live in the slum areas in Ghaziabad, India. Credit: Miko Nakano

Even justice systems are not immune to bias. The Hakamata case in Japan, widely reported by BBC News, raised serious concerns about how media pressure and unreliable evidence can influence judicial decisions. The case showed how justice can be compromised when assumptions take priority over careful examination of facts and individual voices. Around the world, wrongful convictions and discrimination continue to demonstrate how easily fairness can be undermined when judgment replaces understanding.

This is why SDG 16—peace, justice, and strong institutions—matters. Peace is not only about ending wars. It is about building societies where people are heard before they are judged.

Conversation about education with Yoshimasa Hayashi, Minister of Internal Affairs and Communications of Japan, at the National High School Future Conference, House of Councilors Members’ Office Building, Tokyo, Japan. Credit: Miko Nakano

My awareness of this issue began in elementary school. A classmate was widely labeled as “strange,” and many students avoided her. One day, she spoke openly about the pain of being ignored. Listening to her changed my perspective. I realized how easily we can judge someone without ever asking why.

Instead of keeping this reflection to myself, I decided to take action.

In junior high school, I helped organize small discussion circles during class activities where students could share experiences of being misunderstood or judged. We created simple rules: listen without interrupting, ask questions before assuming, and respect differences. At first, conversations were awkward. But over time, students began speaking more openly. Some admitted they had judged others too quickly. Others shared experiences of feeling excluded.

These small conversations changed the atmosphere in our classroom. They did not solve every problem, but they created space for listening.

I later learned that young people around the world are doing similar work. Programs like Seeds of Peace and Generation Global bring together youth from different backgrounds to engage in dialogue across conflict lines. Their work shows that listening is not passive—it is an active form of peacebuilding.

As young people, we may not control institutions or governments yet. But we shape the culture around us every day—in classrooms, online spaces, and communities. If we normalize quick labeling and division, conflict grows. If we normalize listening, trust grows.

Building peaceful societies begins long before political negotiations. It begins when we ask “why” instead of assuming. It begins when we recognize that every person has a story that deserves to be heard.

In a world facing rising polarization and mistrust, choosing to listen may seem small. But it is not weak. It is foundational.

Peace does not start in courtrooms or parliaments alone.
It starts in conversations.

And young people are ready to lead them.

Edited by Dr Hanna Yoon

IPS UN Bureau Report

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

Excerpt:

The ordinary sounds of Nahid Ali’s home in Khartoum were completely drowned out by the sound of war which began on April 15 2023. Her baby was just 21 days old. The morning started as any typical day for a mother who had just given birth to her baby and needed to nurse her newborn while she took care of her other children. The gunfire began to erupt. The fighting began when two groups started to battle each other in the streets. The fighting which began in her area developed into a destructive countrywide war in Sudan which spread to her street within moments.

Credit: Nahid Ali, Communications Manager, Plan International

As a mother, she could not protect her children from the sound of airstrikes or the fear of hunger. As a humanitarian, she felt the crisis in her bones. “I became one of the people I used to help,” she says. Now, when mothers describe fleeing under fire or struggling to feed their children, she does not simply empathize. She understands. The war which forced Nahid to leave her house has developed into one of worlds worst humanitarian crisis. The World Health Organization estimates that more than 30.4 million people which represents two-thirds of the global population now require humanitarian assistance, including 7 million internally displaced people. Cities have been shattered, communities have emptied, front lines shift, but civilians remain trapped in the wreakage created by this war.

Sudan’s health infrastructure has come crumbling down under the pressure of the conflict. Over 70 percent of the health facilities are not functioning. Hospitals have been bombed, looted, or occupied. Healthcare staff have either fled, not been paid, or have been killed. Disease is rampant in the crowded camps, and lack of medication is the new normal. What was once curable is now fatal.

The situation is being made worse by the effects of the climate change and the economic collapse. The purchasing power has been eroded by the high rates of inflation. The prices of food have skyrocketed. Water is now a luxury. People are not eating for days. The situation is affecting the women, children, elderly, and the displaced the most.

The situation has now spread beyond the borders of Sudan. The conflict has displaced over 2.9 million people into Chad, the Central African Republic, Egypt, Ethiopia, Libya, and South Sudan. These nations are already dealing with health challenges of their own.

The conflict started in April 2023, as tension between the Sudanese army and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces transformed into an armed conflict in Khartoum. The conflict has since spread across the Darfur region. What started as a political power struggle has now resulted in the displacement of populations, starvation, and genocide.

In a report released by the United Nations, an Independent International Fact-Finding Mission for the Sudan established that the “evidence establishes the existence of at least three underlying acts of genocide in Darfur. These are the killing of members of the protected ethnic group, the causing of serious bodily and mental harm, and the deliberately inflicting conditions of life calculated to bring about the physical destruction of the group in whole or in part.”

The report is based on the situation in El Fasher, the capital of the state of North Darfur, a town besieged for 18 months before the main attack. The report established the “scale, coordination, and public endorsement of the operation by senior RSF leadership demonstrate that the crimes committed in and around El Fasher were not random excesses of war,” said Mohamed Chande Othman, chair of the mission. “They formed part of a planned and organized operation that bears the defining characteristics of genocide.”

Children are at the eye of this storm.

According to UNICEF, there are an estimated 1.3 million children in areas where famine is already taking place. Over 770,000 children are expected to face severe acute malnutrition this year. Many of them will not survive. In the final six months of 2024 alone, there were over 900 grave violations against children reported, eighty percent of them were killings, mainly in Darfur, Khartoum, and Gezira Province. These are just a few of the reported cases, which humanitarian agencies say is just a small fraction of the true extent of the crisis.

The Integrated Food Security Phase classification (IPC) said the thresholds for acute malnutrition were surpassed in two new areas of North Darfur, Um Baru and Kernoi, following the fall of the regional capital, El Fasher, in October 2025 and a massive exodus. December assessments found acute malnutrition levels among children of 52.9 per cent in Um Baru, nearly twice the famine threshold and about 34 per cent in Kernoi.

It is a challenging job to deliver aid to the war-torn areas. The roads are either unsafe or impassable, bureaucratic delays are common too and the armed groups attack aid convoys as well. “Sometimes the assistance cannot even arrive,” Nahid says.

In these places of displacement, Nahid witnesses the toll taken on the human body by the numbers.

“Sexual violence is a tool of war. Many of the women we meet were attacked as they fled their homes. Some were forced to watch as their friends were attacked in front of family members. Some are pregnant, waiting for services that might never materialize.” The trauma these women face is compounded by shame and a total lack of services.

In some communities, the shame of rape leads to the forced marriage of the raped women to the rapist. This provides a context for the child born of rape, it’s a way to give the family a sense of honour. But the damage done by this violence cannot be overstated. The girls who were raped have yet to open up about the violence they experienced, psychosocial services for these women are scarce, safe havens are hard to find and their needs are overwhelming. Children come to the camps alone, separated, orphaned, lost. Some saw their families die. Some crossed through combat zones to escape.

Nahid recalls a six-year-old girl who is always scared, she describes how in Sudan, women wear a traditional attire called the tobe. Whenever the girl sees a woman wearing a tobe, she runs towards her crying, “My mother, my mother.” She hopes against all hopes that this woman is her real mom, Nahid says.

“We need the world not to forget Sudan.” She says this is what she hopes for: more solidarity from the world community, more funding, more pressure on governments.

What keeps her going is the strength she sees all around her. She sees women organizing community kitchens from scratch. She sees families sharing the little food they have. She sees women organizing their own support groups. Sudanese women inspire her most. Many have lost homes, livelihoods, and loved ones, and yet, they still care for children, advocate for services, and hold communities together.

“They have lost so much,” Nahid says. “But they are still standing.”

Sania Farooqui is an independent journalist, host of The Peace Brief, a platform dedicated to amplifying women’s voices in peacebuilding and human rights. Sania has previously worked with CNN, Al Jazeera and TIME.

IPS UN Bureau Report

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

Image: Hiroshi-Mori-Stock / shutterstock.com and 内閣広報室 / Cabinet Public Affairs Office / Wiki Commons

By Ria Shibata
Mar 3 2026 (IPS)

 
Sanae Takaichi’s electoral victory in February marks a historic turning point in Japanese politics. As Japan’s first female prime minister and the leader of a commanding parliamentary majority, she represents change in both symbolic and strategic terms. Conventional wisdom long held that younger Japanese voters leaned progressive, were sceptical of assertive security policies, and disengaged from ideological nationalism. Yet a segment of digitally active youth rallied behind a politician associated with constitutional revision, expanded defence capabilities, and a more unapologetic articulation of national identity. This shift cannot be reduced to a simple conservative swing. Rather, Takaichi’s rise reflects a deeper transformation in how democratic politics is constructed in the digital age: the growing power of imagery, digital mobilisation, and algorithm-driven branding in shaping political choice—particularly among younger voters.

Takaichi’s approval ratings among voters aged 18–29 approached 90 per cent in some surveys, far surpassing those of her predecessors. Youth turnout also rose, suggesting that Japanese youth are not politically apathetic. On the contrary, they are paying attention—but the nature of that engagement has changed. Viral images, short video clips, hashtags, and aesthetic cues travelled faster and farther than policy briefings. For many younger voters, engagement began—and sometimes ended—with the visual and emotional appeal of the candidate. This pattern is not uniquely Japanese. However, the scale of its impact in this election suggests that political communication has entered a new phase in which digital imagery can shape electoral outcomes as much as—or more than—substantive debate.

A New Phase of Digital Politics in Japan

In the months leading up to the election, Takaichi’s image proliferated across social media platforms. Supporters circulated clips highlighting her confident demeanour and historic candidacy. A cultural trend sometimes described as ‘sanakatsu’ or ‘sanae-mania’ framed political support as a form of fandom participation. Hashtags multiplied. ‘Mic-drop’ moments went viral. Even personal accessories—her handbags and ballpoint pens—became symbolic conversation pieces.

Political enthusiasm has always contained emotional and symbolic elements. What is new is the speed and scale at which digital platforms amplify them. Algorithms reward content that provokes reaction—admiration, anger, excitement. A charismatic clip often outperforms a detailed explanation of fiscal reform. For younger voters raised in scroll-based media environments, political information increasingly arrives as curated snippets. Policy complexity competes with—and often loses to—aesthetic immediacy.

Post-election surveys and interviews suggested that many first-time voters struggled to articulate specific policy distinctions between parties. Instead, they cited impressions—strength, change, decisiveness, novelty—suggesting that digital engagement does not automatically translate into policy literacy. Political identity can form through repeated exposure to imagery and narrative rather than sustained examination of legislative proposals. When campaigns are optimized for shareability, they are incentivized to simplify. Nuance compresses poorly into short-form video.

The Politics of Strength in an Age of Uncertainty

Japan’s younger generation has grown up amid prolonged economic stagnation, regional insecurity, and global volatility. China’s rise, tensions over Taiwan, North Korean missile launches, and persistent wage stagnation form the backdrop of their political participation. For many, the future feels uncertain and structurally constrained.

In such an environment, Takaichi’s assertive rhetoric carried emotional resonance. Her emphasis on strengthening national defence, revisiting aspects of the postwar settlement, and making Japan “strong and rich” projected clarity rather than ambiguity. Where institutional politics can appear technocratic or slow, decisive messaging offered the voters psychological reassurance.

At the core of her appeal is a narrative of restoring a ‘strong’ Japan. Calls for constitutional revision and expanded defence capabilities are framed as steps toward recovering national self-confidence. For younger Japanese fatigued by protracted historical disputes and what some perceive as externally imposed guilt, language emphasising pride and sovereignty resonates more readily than complex historical debates. This may not signal a rejection of peace. Rather, it may reflect a generational reframing of peace itself—understood not solely as pacifism, but as deterrence, defence capability, and strategic autonomy. Messages stressing ‘sovereignty’, ‘strength’, and ‘normal country’ can circulate more effectively in shareable digital formats than nuanced and complex historical analysis.

A Global Pattern: Virtual Branding, a Democratic Crossroads

Japan’s experience mirrors a broader transformation in democratic politics: the rise of virtual branding as the central organizing principle of electoral strategy. In earlier eras, campaigns revolved around party platforms and televised debates. Today, strategy increasingly begins with platform optimization. Campaigns are designed not only to persuade, but to perform within algorithmic systems. The guiding question is no longer only “What policies do we stand for?” but “What content travels?”

The election of Donald Trump in the United States illustrated how virtual media strategy can reshape political competition. Memorable slogans and emotionally charged posts dominated attention cycles, often eclipsing policy detail. Scholars have described this as “attention economics in action”: the candidate who captures digital attention shapes political reality before formal debate even begins. More recently, figures such as Zohran Mamdani have demonstrated how youth-centered digital branding can mobilize support with remarkable speed. Campaigns became participatory; supporters did not merely consume messaging but actively distributed political identity.

Takaichi’s recent victory reflects the evolving mechanics of digital democracy. Her leadership will ultimately be judged not by imagery but by governance — by whether her policies deliver economic stability, regional security, and social cohesion. The broader question, however, transcends any single administration. It means political decisions have migrated into digital environments optimised for speed and visual communication. In an age where images travel faster than ideas, democratic choice risks being guided more by what is seen than by what is discussed. In such an environment, political campaigns will be forced to adapt, and produce content that performs well within these algorithmic constraints. Over time, this may reshape voter expectations and politics will begin to resemble influencer culture. Campaigns that fail to master digital branding risk will appear outdated. Those that succeed can mobilize youth at scale.

Democracy has always balanced emotion and reason. The challenge today is ensuring that emotion does not eclipse reason entirely. The future of informed citizenship may depend on restoring that balance. This does not suggest that previous eras were immune to personality politics. What has changed is the proportion. The digital environment magnifies symbolic cues and compresses policy discussion. If democracies wish to maintain robust deliberation, they must consciously rebalance image and substance. This requires civic education focused on media literacy, virtual platform incentives that elevate substantive debate and political leadership willing to engage in depth, not just virality. And the responsibility is collective—voters, educators, media institutions, and candidates alike. The question facing democracies is whether this transformation can coexist with substantive deliberation or whether branding will increasingly overtake it.

Related articles:
Japan Stumbles: The Taiwan Fiasco
The New Takaichi Administration: Confronting Harsh Realities on the International Stage
Middle Powers After Davos

Ria Shibata is currently a Senior Research Fellow at the New Zealand Centre for Global Studies, and the Toda Peace Institute in Japan. She also serves as a Visiting Scholar at the University of Auckland. Her research focuses on identity-driven conflicts, reconciliation, nationalism and the role of historical memory in shaping interstate relations and regional stability in Northeast Asia.

This article was issued by the Toda Peace Institute and is being republished from the original with their permission.

IPS UN Bureau

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

 
CIVICUS discusses the criminalisation of dissent in the Philippines with Kyle A Domequil, spokesperson of the Free Tacloban 5 Network, a campaign supporting journalist Frenchie Mae Cumpio, human rights defender Marielle Domequil and their co-accused and advocating for their release.

Kyle A Domequil

What were the circumstances of the arrests?

In the early hours of 7 February 2020, police and military forces raided the offices of several organisations in Tacloban City. Five people were arrested: Cumpio, a community journalist and Domequil, a Rural Missionaries of the Philippines lay worker, along with Alexander Philip Abinguna, a member of Karapatan’s National Council, People Surge Network spokesperson Marissa Cabaljao and Mira Legion of Bagong Alyansang Makabayan-Eastern Visayas. They’re collectively known as the Tacloban 5.

The raids followed Karapatan publicly raising concerns about extensive surveillance of its office and other organisations in the city. Days before her arrest, Cumpio reported to the Centre for Media Freedom and Responsibility that masked men had been tailing the staff of Eastern Vista, the local news website where she served as executive director. Cumpio was already being followed and Legion received a very suspicious call from a man saying who just kept saying ‘stop it’. Cumpio was able to publish on Eastern Vista about what was happening to them just a few days before the arrest.

The Tacloban 5 have denounced that evidence was planted during the raid. Ammunition, explosives, firearms and a Communist Party flag were allegedly found where they slept, under pillows and mattresses and even near Cabaljao’s one-year-old child’s crib. They were unable to witness the seizure because they were turned away during the search. Authorities also seized ₱557,360 (approx. US$9,600) in cash.

Cabaljao and Legion faced bailable charges of illegal possession of firearms and were eventually granted bail. On top of that, Abinguna, Cumpio and Domequil faced non-bailable charges of illegal possession of explosives. Since their arrest, they remained detained while facing successive charges widely viewed as politically motivated. Now Cumpio and Domequil have been convicted, while Abinguna remains in pretrial detention six years after being detained.

What evidence did the court rely on to convict Cumpio and Domequil?

The conviction rested almost entirely on testimonies from four ‘rebel returnees’, people who claim to have left armed groups and who receive financial support from the military. They testified that on 29 March 2019, they saw Cumpio and Domequil at a camp of the New People’s Army (NPA), the armed wing of the Communist Party, handing cash, ammunition and clothing to an NPA commander.

There was no corroborating proof or documentary or photographic evidence, just those testimonies from military assets whose credibility should have been questioned. The defence presented evidence that Cumpio and Domequil were elsewhere that day and they also presented documents of their activities, but the court dismissed this.

The court acquitted Cumpio and Domequil of the illegal possession of explosives and firearms charges, ruling the evidence was based on unreliable witnesses and inconsistent narratives and there was indeed an opportunity for planting evidence. Yet on the same lies and perjured testimonies, the same court found them guilty of terrorism financing and sentenced them to 12 to 18 years in prison.

This verdict is particularly troubling given that in October 2025 the Court of Appeals had overturned a civil forfeiture case against them, finding there was little reason to believe they were connected to the NPA. The Court of Appeals even warned against the hasty labelling of human rights workers as terrorists.

How do anti-terror laws and red-tagging enable cases such as this?

They function as tools of political persecution. Red-tagging labels people as linked to insurgent or terrorist groups without credible evidence. Once red-tagged, they face arrest, harassment, surveillance and threats. It creates a climate where suspicion replaces due process.

The anti-terrorism law contains vague, overly broad provisions. Authorities can associate community organising humanitarian work and journalism with armed groups, even without intent to commit violence. Cumpio was reporting on red-tagging and illegal searches before her arrest. Her radio programme was also red-tagged.

Public vilification combined with expansive security legislation produces a repeatable pattern: stigmatise, raid, charge and detain for years. Cumpio and Domequil’s case reflects this architecture of repression.

Who celebrated their conviction, and what does that reveal?

The National Task Force to End Local Communist Armed Conflict (NTF-ELCAC) celebrated the verdict as a ‘decisive legal victory against terrorism’. NTF-ELCAC is a government body that systematically targets activists, human rights defenders and journalists through red-tagging. It has repeatedly accused Karapatan of being a communist front. It labels legitimate civil society organisations as terrorist supporters, creating the pretext for raids, arrests and prosecutions.

When a court convicts a community journalist based on compromised testimony and the government’s counter-insurgency apparatus celebrates, it reveals the conviction’s true purpose: silencing dissent and punishing those who document abuses.

What’s happened to the other members of the Tacloban 5?

Cabaljao and Legion were released on bail, but not without suffering frozen assets, multiple cases, extended detention and relentless red-tagging. Abinguna remains in pretrial detention and his trial continues at Tacloban City Regional Trial Court, where the prosecution has so far presented fewer than half its listed witnesses, effectively delaying proceedings and prolonging his detention.

While detained, Abinguna was hit with additional trumped-up charges: double murder and attempted murder, based solely on testimony from a ‘rebel returnee’ who tried to link him to an alleged NPA ambush in October 2019. Cumpio faced the same charges until a court granted her motion to quash them in November 2025. Abinguna’s motion was denied.

Beyond this case, what does Karapatan’s documentation reveal about the broader pattern?

Karapatan documents arbitrary imprisonment, enforced disappearances, extrajudicial killings and militarisation across the Philippines. We conduct fact-finding missions, file cases through courts and international human rights bodies, provide psychosocial support to victims and help organise victims’ families.

Under the current government, the Anti-Terrorism Act of 2020 and the Terrorism Financing Prevention and Suppression Act of 2012 have been aggressively enforced not to protect the public, but to persecute critics and suppress dissent.

The Tacloban 5 case exposes how counter-terrorism laws, fabricated charges, judicial harassment and years of unjust detention silence activists, humanitarian workers, human rights defenders and journalists. It’s not an isolated incident; it’s a deliberate strategy.

According to our latest data, there are around 700 political prisoners in the Philippines. Many face the same pattern: red-tagging, questionable raids, planted evidence, reliance on testimony from military assets and prolonged detention.

What happens next?

The case is under appeal. All available legal remedies are being pursued. The conviction needs rigorous review, particularly of due process violations and evidentiary standards in terrorism-related cases. Courts must ensure national security claims don’t override fundamental rights.

But we need more than case-by-case appeals. Structural reforms are essential. Red-tagging must be explicitly prohibited with those responsible held accountable. The anti-terrorism law must be repealed or fundamentally amended to prevent misuse against human rights defenders and journalists. Safeguards must be strengthened to prevent unlawful raids, evidence-planting and security force abuses. NTF-ELCAC must be held accountable for its role in criminalising dissent.

Ultimately, prevention of similar cases requires the dismantling of mechanisms that treat dissent as crime. Without accountability and structural reform, the criminalisation of activism will continue.

CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent.

GET IN TOUCH
Facebook

SEE ALSO
‘The government treats journalists as security threats rather than contributors to public debate’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Aleksandra Bielakowska 15.Feb.2026
‘We refuse to stay silent while those in power treat public office like private property’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Raoul Manuel 25.Nov.2025
Press freedom under attack CIVICUS Lens 03.May.2023

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

Participants observe a visual montage linking Abu Dhabi’s Zayed Award ceremony, the Sant’Egidio interfaith forum in Rome and the Astana Congress of Leaders of World and Traditional Religions — symbolizing the emerging “rehearsal space” where religion, civil society and state diplomacy converge. (Credit: INPS / Illustrative image)

By Katsuhiro Asagiri
ABU DHABI, United Arab Emirates, Feb 24 2026 (IPS)

As wars drag on and the international order grows increasingly unstable, Abu Dhabi has been offering a different kind of narrative. It sought to recognize early efforts at reconciliation, bring religious leaders into the same space, and place former adversaries under the same spotlight. At the heart of the February 4, 2026 Zayed Award for Human Fraternity ceremony was an attempt to make visible, in a public setting, the choice of moving in the direction of easing conflict.

Pope Francis and Ahmed el-Tayeb sign the Document on Human Fraternity。Credit: Vatican News

Seven years on, the international landscape has become even more fragmented. Even so, the organizers have framed the ceremony not merely as an awards event, but as a symbolic platform intended to encourage a minimum measure of restraint when politics turns turbulent.

Shoring Up a Fragile Peace

The moment that drew the most attention this year was the recognition of Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan and Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev for their peace agreement. After decades of confrontation, the award functioned as a form of international endorsement for a still-fragile peace process in the South Caucasus.

Zayed Prize 2026 to Armenia and Azerbaijan Credit: Vatican News

The award, however, extended beyond state leadership. The 2026 laureates also included Afghan girls’ education advocate Zarqa Yaftali and the Palestinian nonprofit Taawon, honoring efforts to continue humanitarian and development work under conditions of conflict and political instability. It also underscores the award’s intention to bridge “top-down politics,” such as peace agreements, with “bottom-up peacebuilding” that supports communities on the ground. The underlying message is clear: even with treaties and agreements in place, peace cannot take root if the schools, healthcare, and local support systems needed to sustain society remain fragile.

A Dialogue Circuit Linking Rome and Astana

The closing ceremony held against the backdrop of the ancient Roman ruins, the Colosseum. Credit: Community of Sant’Egidio

Further east, Kazakhstan has institutionalized interfaith engagement through the Congress of Leaders of World and Traditional Religions in Astana. Both the Holy See and the Grand Imam of Al-Azhar have consistently participated, helping to sustain the congress as a venue for structured interreligious dialogue.

Seen in this light, Rome, Astana, and Abu Dhabi are not merely separate events; they emerge as nodal points in a broader space of dialogue that links religion and diplomacy. Put differently, they function like a regular service designed to keep the lines of communication open—ensuring that the ability to meet and talk does not fall silent.

Religious Actors Across Borders

On Feb. 4, a Soka Gakkai delegation led by Vice President Hirotsugu Terasaki attended the 2026 Zayed Award for Human Fraternity ceremony in Abu Dhabi, UAE. At the invitation of @ZayedAward, the delegation joined global religious leaders. On Feb. 3, the delegation met with Judge Mohamed Abdelsalam, Secretary-General of the Zayed Award for Human Fraternity and they delivered a letter from Soka Gakkai President Minoru Harada to the Grand Imam of Al-Azhar His Eminence Ahmed Al-Tayeb. Credit: SGI

Ahead of the Abu Dhabi ceremony, Terasaki met with Judge Mohamed Abdelsalam, Secretary-General of the award, and delivered a letter from Minoru Harada, President of Soka Gakkai, addressed to Grand Imam Ahmed Al-Tayeb. The two exchanged views on the need to further strengthen “heart-to-heart dialogue” that transcends religious differences.

The stages created by the United Arab Emirates and Kazakhstan—both of which place emphasis on “spiritual diplomacy”—are more than mere events. What gives these settings moral authority and lends them ethical weight as arenas for peacebuilding is a sustained architecture of dialogue, underpinned by relationships that religious and civil-society leaders have cultivated over many years. Put differently, it is a system for meeting regularly and ensuring that lines of communication do not fall silent. Even when interstate relations grow tense, religious and civil-society networks can keep channels of dialogue open, serving as a buffer against rupture.

The fact that Kazakh President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev engaged with this year’s award ceremony through a video address, and that Director-General Terasaki has moved across dialogue venues such as Abu Dhabi, Rome, and Astana, quietly suggests the presence of such networks where religion and diplomacy intersect. Likewise, the Holy See has also been one of the actors continuously involved in all three of these settings.

Kazakh President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev extended his congratulations to Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev and Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan on being given the Sheikh Zayed Award for Human Fraternity in a video address. Credit: Akorda

Shared Words, Different Realities

The vocabulary repeatedly invoked in these forums is strikingly consistent: fraternity, coexistence, dialogue, and human dignity. At a time when multilateralism is faltering and traditional channels of mediation are weakening, this language also serves a political purpose—allowing states to signal, at home and abroad, a preference for dialogue over force and to project the image that they are not stoking confrontation, but providing a venue in which tensions can be managed.

Yet the distance between ceremony and reality does not disappear. Celebrating a peace agreement does not necessarily guarantee its implementation. Honoring efforts in girls’ education does not automatically reopen classrooms. Proclaiming coexistence does not stop violence overnight. Awards can encourage compromise and bless dialogue, but they are not mechanisms that can compel outcomes.

Even so, governments and religious and civil-society networks continue to engage in these venues—through attendance, public statements, and sustained involvement—because they remain among the few public settings where opposing parties can appear side by side. There are not many spaces where actors in tense relationships can stand in the same room, where restraint is openly affirmed, and where interfaith ties can function as informal diplomatic channels.

A Place to “Rehearse” Peace

A woman crafts a mosaic depicting a peace dove in the Za’atari refugee camp in Jordan. Credit: UN Women/Christopher Herwig

They also point toward the emergence of a new diplomatic domain where religion, civil society and state interests converge.

In today’s international environment, it is precisely these small points of contact that can carry real significance. Before peace is institutionalized as policy, there are only limited spaces where its shape can be publicly “rehearsed.”

The Abu Dhabi ceremony is one of those rare stages. It did not resolve a conflict, nor did it erase suspicion. Even so, choosing dialogue—and continuing to make that choice visible in the open—constitutes an act in itself: a clear signal, in an age of polarization, of a commitment to restraint over enmity.

This article is brought to you by INPS Japan in collaboration with Soka Gakkai International, in consultative status with the UN’s Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC).

INPS Japan

IPS UN Bureau

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

Credit: Georgios Kostomitsopoulos/NurPhoto via Getty Images

By Inés M. Pousadela
MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay, Feb 24 2026 (IPS)

The Islamic Republic of Iran has put down another uprising, with a ferocity that makes previous crackdowns seem restrained. The theocratic regime has survived, but it has done so by substituting violence for the economic security it cannot provide and the political legitimacy it no longer has. Its show of force is also an admission of weakness.

The protests that began on 28 December were triggered by a specific event — the collapse of the rial to a record low — but rooted in years of accumulated grievances. The second half of 2025 alone saw at least 471 labour protests across 69 Iranian cities. Inflation stood at 49.4 per cent. The 12-day war with Israel in June sent the Tehran Stock Exchange down around 40 per cent and cost many people their jobs. The United Nations Security Council reimposed sanctions in September. The government cut fuel subsidies in November and slashed exchange-rate subsidies in December. Over 40 per cent of Iranian households now live below the poverty line and around half the population consume fewer than the recommended 2,100 calories per day.

It was this collapse that brought typically conservative bazaar merchants onto the streets. Within two weeks, the protests had spread to all of Iran’s 31 provinces, drawing in the urban middle class, working-class communities and people from rural provinces who had historically been among the regime’s most reliable supporters. What began as an economic stoppage rapidly became political defiance. For the millions who joined the striking merchants, the plummeting currency and rising cost of food were not market failures; they were proof of the regime’s corruption and ineptitude. Generation Z played a central role, demanding not reform but profound change. Lethal repression provided further confirmation the system was beyond reform.

The state’s response evolved. Initially it offered token economic concessions alongside its usual crowd control violence such as batons and teargas. When it became clear that a widespread movement with political demands had taken hold, it shifted to total attrition. On 8 January, authorities imposed a near-total internet shutdown and authorised security forces to use military-grade weapons against crowds. The Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) – a parallel military structure, major political force and economic empire with a direct stake in the regime’s survival – spearheaded the crackdown, with its affiliated Basij paramilitary networks playing a central role in street-level violence.

The casualty figures were deliberately obscured by the internet blackout, but all evidence points in the same direction. Hengaw Organisation for Human Rights reported that at least 3,000 civilians — including 44 children — were killed in the first 17 days. Iran Human Rights, citing Ministry of Health sources, documented a minimum of 3,379 deaths across 15 provinces. The US-based Human Rights Activists News Agency reported around 7,000 verified fatalities by mid-February, with 12,000 further cases under review. Time magazine cited hospital records suggesting the toll may have reached 30,000. Even the lowest of these figures vastly eclipses the 537 deaths recorded during the 2022-2023 Woman, Life, Freedom protests. Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei’s concession that ‘several thousand’ had been killed confirmed the order of magnitude.

By 16 January the streets had been cleared, but a quieter repressive campaign continued, with nighttime raids, enforced disappearances and mass detentions in unofficial holding sites outside the legal system, targeting not only protesters but also doctors who treated the wounded, lawyers who provided legal assistance, bystanders who helped and people who posted supportive statements online. Authorities have detained over 50,000 people. Revolutionary Courts have fast-tracked mass indictments through summary trials, often conducted online and lasting mere minutes, with defendants denied independent legal counsel and confessions extracted under torture. Eighteen-year-old Saleh Mohammadi, whose retracted confession was obtained after interrogators broke bones in his hand, has been sentenced to be publicly hanged at the site of his alleged crime. Dozens more face imminent execution.

The regime has, for now, held: its security forces have not fractured, there have been no significant elite defections, and the IRGC has maintained its capacity for suppression. But it rules over a country with a wrecked economy, a battered nuclear programme, weakened regional proxies and a population that has run out of reasons to comply. Each protest cycle has required a higher threshold of state violence to suppress, a sign the regime has no other tool left.

What prevents weakness from becoming collapse is the absence of any alternative. The international response briefly suggested external pressure might tell – but did not. Donald Trump told Iranian protesters that ‘help is on its way’. The European Union listed the IRGC as a terrorist organisation. The UK imposed fresh sanctions. The Iranian diaspora held at least 168 protests across 30 countries. But the international noise simply enabled the regime to spread the narrative that the uprising was foreign-directed.

The exiled opposition is fragmented along ethnic, ideological and generational lines, seemingly more consumed by internal rivalries than the task of converting widespread discontent into sustained political pressure. Inside Iran, the most credible opposition voices — Nobel laureate Narges Mohammadi, reformist politician Mostafa Tajzadeh and veteran leader Mir Hossein Mousavi — are imprisoned or cut off from public life.

A weakened regime facing a leaderless opposition can endure, but what it cannot do is reverse its decay. Violence may clear the streets, but it cannot rebuild the economy, restore trust or give Iran’s young people a reason to stay. The regime has bought time, at an ever-rising price, but the crisis it’s suppressed isn’t going away.

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.

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau