A new UNICEF report reveals that 1 in 5 children surveyed have faced tech-facilitated sexual abuse in a single year. Children in protracted crises have been made more vulnerable, as perpetrators are more likely to weaponize economic vulnerability. Credit: UNICEF/Karel Prinsloo

By Oritro Karim
UNITED NATIONS, Sep 3 2026 (IPS)

A new report from UNICEF finds that approximately 1 in 5 of all children surveyed reported facing tech-facilitated sexual abuse or exploitation in a single year.

In the past two decades, digital technologies and spaces have become intertwined with all aspects of daily life, introducing new risks to children’s safety, particularly for children in protracted crises.

Largely driven by persistent structural barriers among tech platforms and governments, rampant underreporting, and a critical lack of protection frameworks and support services for victims, tech-facilitated sexual exploitation continues to have long-term adverse impacts on millions of children while fostering an environment of impunity for perpetrators.

These factors were examined in detail in a new report from the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF), titled Through Children’s Eyes: How Digital Technologies Enable Child Sexual Abuse, which draws upon findings collected across 21 countries.

“More than 20 million children across the countries studied were subjected to unwanted explicit sexual content or exploitation online, often in the digital spaces where they learn, play, and connect with friends,” said UNICEF Executive Director Catherine Russell. “These experiences cause profound emotional and mental distress. Many children suffer in silence, unsure where to turn for help. We cannot look away.”

Children subjected to tech-facilitated abuse and exploitation face heightened risks of adverse mental health conditions, many of which are long-term and can significantly affect their social development. The report notes that victims were roughly four times more likely to report self-harm, suicidal thoughts and behaviours, and elevated levels of anxiety. In Mexico and North Macedonia, UNICEF stated that the risk of suicidal ideation among children was around eight times higher when compared to the global average, while in Pakistan, the risk of self-harm was about seven times higher.

Additionally, social workers and psychologists interviewed by UNICEF reported numerous cases of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) among victims, which is associated with difficulty trusting others or forming new relationships, worsened school performance, developing substance abuse conditions, or engaging in harmful or risky behaviours.

It is estimated that roughly 60 percent of all cases recorded by UNICEF occurred on social media and 14 percent occurred in online gaming. Approximately half of all social media-facilitated abuse took place on Facebook, with considerable percentages also found on WhatsApp, Instagram, Snapchat, and TikTok. 57 percent of these cases involved a perpetrator who was already known to the victim, while in 9 of the 21 surveyed countries, the perpetrator was another child.

UNICEF experts warn that the true scale of tech-facilitated sexual exploitation far exceeds reported figures due to widespread underreporting. Fewer than 1 percent of cases were reported to law enforcement or support service personnel, while roughly 4 in 10 cases were never disclosed to anyone.

The primary reasons victims avoid disclosing abuse include fear of harassment or not being taken seriously, persisting social stigmas surrounding survivors of sex-based crimes, and children simply not knowing about or not having access to adequate psychosocial support and justice programs. This often results in a culture of impunity for perpetrators while facilitating future exploitation.

For example, girls who are victims of tech-facilitated sexual abuse are often blamed or shamed by their communities, particularly in contexts with rigid patriarchal structures.

“There were many [challenges]. Mainly in my social environment, something that worried me a lot was how to relate to society after what happened,” said a young woman from Mexico who was a victim of tech-facilitated sexual abuse. “I did not know how they would react if I told them what happened to me; I was afraid of facing that. Well, the school environment too…Mainly it affects my emotional health; it made me feel depression and anxiety.”

On the other hand, when boys share that they have experienced tech-facilitated sexual abuse, their accounts are often minimized, and they are expected to cope quietly. Oftentimes, perpetrators also use threats of revealing or falsely implying a boy’s sexual orientation as a means of extortion.

Although tech-facilitated sexual abuse and exploitation affect children everywhere regardless of geography or income level, perpetrators often weaponize economic vulnerability. Children living in conflict or crisis-entrenched settings are at a heightened risk, as protection, support, and justice systems are severely strained. Daniel Kardefelt-Winther, the head of UNICEF’s research programme on Children and Digital Technologies, told Inter Press Service that risk is shaped by a range of factors, including economic circumstances, children’s relationships, and access to support services.

“Perpetrators may exploit the economic hardship some children face by offering money or gifts in exchange for sexual images or videos,” says Kardefelt-Winther, who is also the leader author of the report. “Economic need can make it difficult for children to refuse these offers, while some may not initially recognise the experience as abuse precisely because money or other benefits are being provided in return.”

Kardefelt-Winther adds that the consequences of tech-facilitated abuse can oftentimes leave digital spaces entirely, translating to real-world security risks for millions of children. For example, some children described being contacted online by strangers who coerced or deceived children into meeting in person, where they were subsequently sexually abused. In other cases, perpetrators obtained sexual images of a child and used them to blackmail children into meeting in person.

In an effort to combat tech-based harm affecting children, several countries have enacted or proposed limitations on social media access for minors, including Australia in December 2025, as well as Brazil, Indonesia, Malaysia, and the United Arab Emirates throughout 2026. Further legislation is pending in France, the United Kingdom, Greece, Canada, Denmark, and Turkey.

These efforts have proven to be quite controversial. Tech platforms warn that these measures risk user privacy, whereas youth groups argue that the restrictions infringe on free speech and isolate young people from their communities. Furthermore, human rights groups state that restricting social media for minors is not the solution, arguing that substantial protection only results from changes to platform algorithms and safety frameworks.

Kardefelt-Winther remarked that governments have good reason to be concerned with the risks that children face online, including bullying and exploitation. “Children are growing up in a digital world that was not designed with their rights, safety and wellbeing in mind…Age restrictions may play a role in keeping children safe, but on their own they do not address the underlying drivers of harm. They may even push children into less regulated spaces.”

He added: “UNICEF is calling for stronger protections for children, including safer platforms, better reporting systems, and more support for mental health services. We also want children to be part of shaping the solutions. Protecting children online is a shared responsibility, and governments, companies, families, and communities all have a role to play.”

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Pakhshan Azizi and a child. Photo credit: Women's Committee of the National Council of Resistance of Iran (WNCRI)

By Clare Quirk
JOHANNESBURG, Sep 1 2026 (IPS)

In 2024, Kurdish social worker Pakhshan Azizi was sentenced to death. She remains incarcerated in Evin Prison, Tehran, Iran. This is her story …

Please read her letter from prison here.

For more on Civicus’s Stand as My Witness Campaign.

Additional reporting and research: Cecilia Russell
Picture credits: Kurdistan Human Rights, BBC Persian, Clare Quirk, Wikipedia, CY Boechat (VOA)/Wikimedia Commons, UNICEF, Civicus, Amnesty International, ANF News, Vida Rabbani, Women’s Committee of the National Council of Resistance of Iran (WNCRI)

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Pakhshan Azizi. Credit: Photo credit: Women's Committee of the National Council of Resistance of Iran (WNCRI)

By Pakhshan Azizi
TEHRAN, Sep 1 2026 (IPS)

Writing from the women’s ward of Evin Prison on 10 June 2026, Kurdish political prisoner Pakhshan Azizi, who remains under a death sentence, reflects on her legal case, political principles, humanitarian work, and the broader historical and political dynamics shaping the Middle East.

Azizi opens by stating that “politics and ethics are at the height of their historical degradation”.

She explains that she remained silent for a long time because, for someone imprisoned and condemned to death, every word carries the risk of further punishment or even losing one’s life. Yet she says she can no longer remain silent while others define her identity and speak on her behalf.

Azizi accuses individuals both inside and outside prison of exploiting her case for personal or organisational interests. She argues that people claiming to defend her have instead attempted to marginalise or erase her, turning her case into an object of political competition rather than genuine solidarity.

She describes spending three years in prison and two years under what she calls an unjust and oppressive death sentence. According to her, she is the only female political prisoner under a death sentence whose conviction has been upheld four times. She stresses that neither she nor her lawyer has received any official notification that her execution has been suspended, despite public reports suggesting otherwise. Even if such a suspension existed, she emphasises, it would not mean that her death sentence had been overturned.

She recounts the immense suffering experienced by her family, noting that several relatives have also been imprisoned simply because they are Kurdish. She criticises what she sees as unequal public attention, suggesting that recognition often depends on conforming to political narratives rather than on the reality of one’s work or persecution.

Throughout the letter, Azizi argues that her prosecution has been shaped not only by legal irregularities but also by political manoeuvring behind the scenes, involving actors both inside and outside prison. She says that her experiences of interrogation, ideological pressure, and imprisonment echo the long history of discrimination and marginalisation faced by Kurdish people.

She writes that, over time, she has come to rely only on herself, believing that history will ultimately demonstrate the sincerity of her principles and the consistency of her commitment.

Her political positions

Azizi then sets out her views in nine numbered points.

1. The Middle East conflict has deep historical roots

She argues that today’s conflicts cannot be understood solely through the actions of contemporary governments. Instead, she traces the region’s instability back to the post–First World War division of the Middle East by colonial powers.

She describes the current wars as a continuation of that historical process, arguing that the region’s resources—including oil and minerals—have long been exploited by global powers while ordinary people bear the consequences through poverty, sanctions, displacement, and violence.

According to her, civilians are repeatedly sacrificed in conflicts they neither initiated nor control, while political elites continue pursuing geopolitical interests.

2. Opposition to war

Azizi unequivocally condemns the war involving the United States and Israel and rejects military attacks on Iranian territory and the wider Middle East.

She specifically condemns attacks against schools, hospitals, emergency services, universities, and other civilian infrastructure, describing such attacks as war crimes under international law.

She emphasises that children deserve life, not death.

3. Rejection of allegations of organisational membership

Azizi firmly rejects accusations that she belongs to any political or armed organisation.

She explains that she worked as a social worker and acknowledges that, because of the environment in which she worked in northeastern Syria (Rojava), she inevitably cooperated with various local actors. However, she insists that cooperation in humanitarian work should not be interpreted as organisational membership.

4. Humanitarian work in Syria

She describes spending years working in refugee camps in Syria under extremely difficult humanitarian conditions, particularly assisting people displaced by the war and affected by ISIS attacks.

She argues that using isolated photographs or superficial evidence to portray this humanitarian work as proof of political or military affiliation is fundamentally misleading.

5. Her position on Kurdish rights

Azizi explicitly rejects separatism.

She argues that demands for Kurdish rights should be understood within Iran, advocating federal arrangements and greater recognition of Kurdish communities while preserving the country’s territorial integrity.

Looking beyond Iran, she expresses a longer-term vision of a democratic confederation across the Middle East based on cooperation rather than division.

As a Kurdish woman, she says preserving Kurdish culture and history is both a historical and a human responsibility but insists that separatism has never been the solution.

6. Peace through dialogue

She argues that genuine peace can only be achieved through dialogue with ordinary people, especially those who have been marginalised and denied opportunities.

7. Skepticism toward international powers

Azizi questions why global powers would suddenly claim to defend her or Kurdish history when those same powers have historically contributed to denying and suppressing Kurdish identity.

She suggests that powerful states often instrumentalise minority communities for their own geopolitical purposes.

8. Independence from governments

She emphasises that social work is independent of governments and political authorities.

Her work, she writes, has always been with people rather than with states.

9. Commitment to independent civil society

Azizi concludes by reaffirming that she has never belonged to any organisation.

She describes herself as an independent social worker committed to addressing the deep social wounds created by decades of war.

She argues that rebuilding society requires independent civic institutions capable of fostering dignity, culture, and life rather than perpetuating violence.

Azizi ends with a sentence in Kurdish followed by Persian:

“I am one who dies for life, not one who lives for death.”

She closes by expressing gratitude to everyone who has defended her despite political differences, including her family, her lawyer Mohammad Hossein Raisian, and her friends, thanking them for their sincere support.

Source: HRANA News Agency, the news outlet of the Human Rights Activists in Iran.

Translation: Courtesy of Civicus

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Partial presidential election results are displayed on a screen at the Zambian Elections results center in Lusaka on 17 August 2026. Credit: Gianluigi Guercia/AFP

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Aug 31 2026 (IPS)

On 24 August, police sealed off access to Zambia’s courts, closed the day before the deadline for petitions to challenge the results of the 13 August presidential election. The judiciary’s top official cited security reasons, but the timing left little doubt that authorities meant to block the defeated candidate’s legal challenge.

Official results gave the incumbent, Hakainde Hichilema, 60.49 per cent of the vote, comfortably ahead of challenger Brian Mundubile’s 37.87 per cent. Some results from the concurrent National Assembly vote remain pending, but Hichilema’s United Party for National Development (UPND) has also won a commanding majority over Mundubile’s National Reconciliation Party for Unity and Prosperity, part of the opposition’s Tonse Alliance.

Mundubile rejected the presidential election result and vowed to contest it in court, but an election night police raid forced him into hiding. Officers killed former minister Mutotwe Kafwaya and arrested 11 other opposition figures, blaming an exchange of gunfire and accusing Mundubile’s party of possessing weapons and planning an insurgency.

Hichilema came to power in 2021 by comfortably defeating President Edgar Lungu, whose crackdown on civic freedoms led to a polarised and violent campaign. Hichilema promised democratic renewal, pledging to strengthen human rights and the rule of law. However, after some initial positive changes, he’s overseen a slide back to the kind of practices he once campaigned against.

Pre-election crackdown

Hichilema’s margin of victory suggests he’d likely have won anyway, but the ruling party stacked the odds further in its favour while penalising the opposition. European Union observers described an ‘uneven playing field’, with misuse of state resources in favour of the UPND, voter inducements including cash handouts, heavy pro-government bias in state media, self-censorship driven by restrictive laws and police restrictions on campaign events. They also flagged a heavy and intimidating military presence at counting locations, weak security in vote tabulation and counting and a six-hour suspension of counting on election night, after which local officials appeared to be taking instructions from Electoral Commission headquarters before announcing results.

Civil society had already raised concerns about the make-up of the Electoral Commission, believing some of its members were UPND supporters, and judicial independence, after Hichilema appointed numerous new judges from UPND stronghold regions.

In December, parliament approved a law changing the electoral system. It expanded the number of constituencies and introduced a more proportional system with reserved seats for women, young people and people with disabilities. Civil society’s objections centred on the lack of consultation and the speed of these major constitutional changes, which raised suspicions they were intended to benefit the UPND.

As the vote got closer, authorities blatantly targeted opposition politicians, including by using the draconian Public Order Act. Last October, police arrested 12 people, including an opposition member of parliament, when they took part in a meeting Mundubile was expected to attend at a private home, charging them with conduct likely to cause a breach of the peace and participation in an unlawful assembly. In February, police arrested 16 Tonse Alliance members on the same unlawful assembly charge.

Opposition politicians also faced arrest for what would once have counted as the normal cut and thrust of political debate. One of the weapons authorities used was the 2025 Cyber Security Act, which expanded their power to criminalise online commentary and criticism.

In January, police arrested opposition member of parliament Miles Sampa after he alleged by-election fraud. In February, they arrested National Democratic Congress leader Mambwe Zimba over a Facebook post depicting Hichilema in a coffin. In March, they arrested Socialist Party leader Fred M’membe over radio comments about Hichilema and the political controversy over funeral plans for Lungu, who died in 2025. All three spent time in detention before being released on bail.

The crackdown even reached an event that should have showcased Zambia for the right reasons. In April, just days before RightsCon, the world’s largest gathering on digital rights, was due to open in the capital, Lusaka, the government effectively cancelled it. They postponed it at too short notice for rescheduling. Over 2,600 people had planned to attend and some were already on their way. Authorities cited unspecified concerns about some speakers’ clearances and demanded more information on discussion topics. The government evidently didn’t want debate about issues it deemed controversial, including its human rights record. Zambian officials were also reportedly pressured by China, a key investor, over the planned participation of Taiwanese civil society representatives.

Time to restore freedoms

Zambians remain proud of their democracy, which has seen three peaceful handovers since multiparty elections returned in 1991. Hichilema should get democracy back on track by restoring all the freedoms that have been compromised. That starts with reversing regressive laws typically rushed through parliament with little consultation, including the Cyber Crimes Act and others that restrict online speech. The government must also commit to respecting media freedoms and letting the political opposition play its proper democratic role.

The government should replace the colonial-era Public Order Act. Hichilema vetoed its proposed replacement, the Public Gatherings Bill, passed by parliament in May. Civil society had raised concerns about the bill’s broad granting of discretionary powers to law enforcement officers and imposition of criminal sanctions. Zambia needs a law that allows peaceful protests and doesn’t criminalise organisers and participants. Civil society has also raised concerns about an NGO Bill that would grant the government extensive powers to regulate, suspend and dissolve civil society organisations. This bill must advance no further.

Three decades of peaceful transitions made Zambia a regional democratic beacon. Keeping it one requires a government that respects dissent, and a civil society free enough to make sure it does.

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

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

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Closing plenary at UNCCD COP17 in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Credit: Anastasia Rodopoulou/ENB-IISD

By Kizito Makoye
DAR ES SALAAM, Aug 31 2026 (IPS)

When the rains fail across Tanzania’s northern Maasai Steppe, herders drive their cattle farther in search of pasture and water.

Boreholes run low. Cattle lose weight, milk yields fall and families begin selling cows, often their main source of livelihood. If the dry spell persists, herds can die, leaving families facing hunger.

What is happening on the Maasai Steppe is part of a wider debate over how the world’s rangelands should be restored. At the UN desertification summit in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, governments backed a $1.2 billion programme to restore rangelands, alongside measures to repair degraded land and prepare for drought.

For African pastoralists, the question is whether that money will reach them before the next drought.

Governments, meanwhile, failed to seal a global drought agreement, pushing the dispute into another round of negotiations in Egypt in 2028.

The consequences are particularly serious in Africa, where millions depend on livestock for food and income. Restoring pasture could help pastoralists survive dry years, but it will not solve the problem if grazing routes disappear, drought warnings arrive too late or funds fail to reach the people managing the land.

“The $1.2 billion Rangelands Flagship Initiative is an important recognition that rangelands are not wastelands or marginal areas,” said Ephraim Mtengeti, Professor of Range Sciences at Sokoine University of Agriculture.

“They are productive ecosystems that support millions of people, livestock, biodiversity and important ecological functions. For Africa, where pastoralism remains central to rural livelihoods, giving these landscapes greater financial and political attention is long overdue.”

The 45 projects sit within a wider $1.3 billion programme covering land restoration and drought measures in 23 countries. About $644.5 million is new finance, while another $216 million had already been confirmed.

The pledge is substantial, but it is small compared with the scale of the funding gap. The UN Convention to Combat Desertification estimates that about $355 billion a year will be needed until 2030 to meet global land-restoration commitments. Current investment is about $77 billion.

That leaves a shortfall of roughly $278 billion a year.

Private finance accounts for only about 6% of restoration investment. Governments and development agencies are therefore looking to blended finance, using public money to make projects that might otherwise appear too risky more attractive to private investors.

Many of the benefits of restoring rangelands, however, are difficult to turn into financial returns.

Peter Bakker, president and chief executive of the World Business Council for Sustainable Development, said companies were willing to invest but needed projects that could make money.

“Business does not lack appetite for resilient supply chains, secure water and productive soil – it lacks bankable projects, credible data and a fair share of the early risk,” he said.

Mtengeti agreed that private investment was needed but warned against judging restoration solely by the returns it could generate.

“The financing gap is enormous, so it is understandable that COP17 is looking towards private capital and blended finance,” he said.

“But investors will naturally look for financial returns, whereas many of the most important benefits of rangeland restoration — water security, biodiversity, carbon storage, food security and social stability — are public goods.”

Rangelands as Economic Infrastructure

Rangelands cover about 54% of the Earth’s land surface and support roughly 2 billion people, including 500 million pastoralists. They provide pasture for livestock while storing carbon, supporting biodiversity and helping regulate water.

Restoration could generate $4 to $6 for every dollar invested, rising to as much as $36 when wider public benefits are included.

Restoring rangelands in Africa cannot simply mean fencing off land or imposing farming models designed for settled communities.

Pastoralism depends on mobility. Herders move livestock as pasture and water shift, sometimes crossing national borders.

“Rangelands cannot be restored effectively by treating them like a conventional agricultural field,” Mtengeti said.

“These are dynamic ecosystems, and pastoral mobility is one of the mechanisms through which livestock production adapts to variable rainfall and pasture availability.”

The pressure on grazing land is also increasing. Farms, roads, conservation areas and settlements are taking up more dryland, leaving less room for herders. During drought, the pressure becomes acute as people and livestock crowd around the few remaining sources of grass and water.

“Drought does not respect political boundaries,” Mtengeti said. “Pastoral systems in East Africa are interconnected, and livestock movements often respond to ecological conditions rather than national borders.”

Who Gets the Money?

COP17 also highlighted a shift towards larger, landscape-wide projects rather than small, isolated conservation schemes.

They include Kenya’s TWENDE programme, locally led adaptation financing across Africa, the $35 million Herding for Health initiative and a $100 million African Development Bank programme covering the Zambezi River Basin.

Scale alone, however, will not guarantee better results. Money can still go astray when land rights are disputed, local authorities are weak or communities struggle to gain access to funds.

“Communities should not be treated merely as beneficiaries of projects designed somewhere else,” Mtengeti said.

“They have knowledge of their landscapes, their grazing patterns and how ecosystems respond to climatic variability. That knowledge must inform the design and implementation of restoration programmes.”

Access to international finance presents another obstacle.

“If international finance remains locked behind complicated procedures that local organisations cannot access, then some of the people most exposed to drought will continue to receive the least support,” Mtengeti said.

The Drought Gap

The failure to agree on a global drought agreement was one of COP17’s biggest setbacks. The issue had already been left unresolved at COP16. Governments remained divided over whether such an agreement should be legally binding, leaving the decision until 2028.

“The postponement of a global drought instrument is disappointing because drought is no longer an occasional shock that communities can simply recover from,” Mtengeti said.

“In many dryland areas, repeated droughts are eroding livestock assets, weakening household incomes and undermining the ecological foundation on which pastoral livelihoods depend.”

Governments do not have to wait for a global agreement. More than 70 countries now have national drought plans, compared with only three in 2013.

COP17 also launched the Drought Resilience Investment Facility, which aims to raise up to $400 million from public and private sources.

Finance will also have to be matched by preparedness. Early-warning systems, reliable data, functioning institutions and water infrastructure are crucial, as is acting before drought develops into a humanitarian emergency.

“Countries should not wait for a global instrument before strengthening their own drought preparedness and investing in anticipatory action,” Mtengeti said.

The deadlock over drought came despite progress elsewhere at the summit.

Joao Campari, global food and agriculture leader at WWF, said the summit had given greater prominence to rangelands, grasslands and nature-positive farming.

“Yet hope alone will not protect nature, limit climate change or put food on the table. COP17 has laid strong foundations, but the focus must now shift to implementation on the ground and supporting local communities to deliver lasting benefits for all,” he said.

Where Will the Money Come From?

Closing the funding gap will also require governments to change policies that continue to undermine land resilience.

The UNCCD estimates that about $2.4 trillion in public finance supports environmentally harmful subsidies. Redirecting even part of that money could dwarf many of the commitments announced in Ulaanbaatar.

Governments must also protect grazing corridors, strengthen community land rights and ensure that the people managing the land receive a meaningful share of investment.

“Healthy rangelands are economic infrastructure,” Mtengeti said.

“They support livestock production, food security, employment, water systems and biodiversity. When these landscapes degrade, the costs are eventually borne by households and governments through livestock losses, food insecurity, humanitarian assistance and environmental damage.”

For pastoralists, the outcome of COP17 points to a basic reality: rangelands cannot be treated as empty land waiting for a more profitable use. They are part of the economic infrastructure on which food supplies, livelihoods and climate resilience depend.

Mtengeti said the summit had moved rangelands higher up the international agenda but that the commitments would need to be followed by action in pastoral areas.

“COP17 should therefore be seen as a step forward, but not as a solution,” he said. “The financing commitments are encouraging, and the greater attention to rangelands is important. But Africa’s dryland communities need action that is predictable, locally grounded and delivered before drought becomes a crisis.”

When governments meet again in Egypt in 2028, the value of the Mongolian pledges will be judged by what has happened in the drylands: whether pasture has recovered, livestock can move safely, communities have gained access to finance and drought losses are falling.

For pastoralists, the pledges will ultimately be measured during the next drought, when they need pasture, water and support to keep their herds alive.
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Kazakhstan marks the 35th anniversary of the closure of the Semipalatinsk Nuclear Test Site, recalling the Nevada–Semipalatinsk anti-nuclear movement and highlighting continued cooperation between government and civil society for nuclear disarmament. Credit: INPS Japan

By Katsuhiro Asagiri
TOKYO / ASTANA, Aug 31 2026 (IPS)

Across the vast steppe of northeastern Kazakhstan, the scars of the Cold War remain visible. At the Semipalatinsk Nuclear Test Site, the Soviet Union conducted 456 nuclear tests between 1949 and 1989, exposing nearby communities to radiation and leaving health and environmental consequences that have endured across generations.

Semipalatinsk Former Nuclear Weapon Test site. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri

At a time when nuclear weapons are being reasserted rather than marginalized, Kazakhstan’s choice raises a basic question: Must national security ultimately depend on possessing them?

A Nuclear Test Site Closed by Public Pressure

In 1989, the Kazakh poet Olzhas Suleimenov helped launch the Nevada-Semipalatinsk anti-nuclear movement, linking the Soviet site with Nevada and highlighting the human costs of nuclear testing on both sides of the Cold War. Hundreds of thousands joined protests demanding an end to the tests.

Against that backdrop, then-President Nursultan Nazarbayev signed the decree closing Semipalatinsk on Aug. 29, 1991.

Kazakh civil movement activists gathered to demand a nuclear test ban at the Semipalatinsk test site in August 1989. Credit: armscontrol.org

Official portrait of Kassym-Jomart Tokayev. Credit: President of the Republic of Kazakhstan

From Nuclear Victim to Disarmament Advocate

Kazakhstan then sought to turn the experience of Semipalatinsk into a broader disarmament agenda.

It ratified the Comprehensive Nuclear-Test-Ban Treaty and helped establish the Central Asian Nuclear-Weapon-Free Zone with Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan. In 2009, at Kazakhstan’s initiative, the U.N. General Assembly designated Aug. 29 as the International Day against Nuclear Tests.

Kazakhstan also hosts facilities in the global system for detecting nuclear explosions, while the International Atomic Energy Agency operates a Low Enriched Uranium Bank in Oskemen to reduce incentives for countries to develop their own enrichment capabilities.

Looking Beyond Warhead Numbers

LEU Bank Storage Facility. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri

Around Semipalatinsk, concerns about health and environmental damage persist decades after testing ended. That experience has shaped Kazakhstan’s role in the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons, or TPNW, where it has stressed victim assistance and environmental remediation as well as prohibition.

Together with Kiribati, another country deeply affected by nuclear testing, Kazakhstan has supported efforts to create an international funding mechanism for those purposes.

The principle goes beyond preventing future use: the international community also bears responsibilities for harm already inflicted. Semipalatinsk, Hiroshima, Nagasaki, the Marshall Islands and Kiribati are separated by geography and history but connected by the human cost of the nuclear age.

Kazakhstan and the Role of Civil Society

Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri, Multimedia Director of INPS Japan

Since independence, Kazakhstan has worked with civil society organizations, humanitarian institutions, researchers, survivors, medical experts, young people and faith-based groups to keep the human consequences of nuclear weapons in international debate.

Among them is Soka Gakkai International (SGI), which has long advocated nuclear abolition as a question of human survival and dignity.

At the first Meeting of States Parties to the TPNW in Vienna in 2022, Kazakhstan and Kiribati joined the Nuclear Age Peace Foundation and SGI in organizing a side event on victim assistance and environmental remediation.

In 2023, Kazakhstan’s diplomatic mission, SGI and the Center for International Security and Policy (CISP) organized another Vienna event on the consequences of nuclear testing at Semipalatinsk, including testimony from younger generations living with its legacy. Later that year in Astana, Kazakhstan’s Foreign Ministry and CISP brought together SGI, the International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons (ICAN), the International Committee of the Red Cross and others for a conference marking the International Day against Nuclear Tests.

Mr. Hirotsugu Terasaki, Chief Executive Director of SGI Peace Center. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri, Multimedia Director of INPS Japan

“Many people in Kazakhstan share the same strong desire for nuclear disarmament because they know firsthand the reality of nuclear suffering,” Terasaki told INPS Japan, drawing a parallel with the aspirations of people in Japan shaped by the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

His observation points to a broader dimension of Kazakhstan’s engagement with civil society: cooperation built not only around diplomatic objectives, but also around shared historical experience, humanitarian concerns and a determination to prevent future generations from enduring similar suffering.

These initiatives reflect a broader pattern: states negotiate treaties and security arrangements, while civil society brings survivors’ testimony, medical evidence, environmental damage and intergenerational responsibility into the discussion. For Kazakhstan, whose closure of Semipalatinsk was shaped by a popular anti-nuclear movement, such cooperation is part of the foundation of its disarmament diplomacy.

A Group photo of participants of the regional conference on the humanitarian consequences of nuclear weapons and nuclear-free-zone in Central Asia held on August 29, 2023. Credit: Jibek Joly TV Channel

A Nuclear Connection With Japan

Kazakhstan’s relationship with Japan is also shaped by a shared history of nuclear suffering.

Kazakhstan-Japan

Japan also co-sponsored the U.N. resolution establishing Aug. 29 as the International Day against Nuclear Tests and has worked with Kazakhstan to promote the entry into force of the CTBT.

A World Moving in the Opposite Direction

The international environment surrounding the 35th anniversary is bleak.

More than 10,000 nuclear warheads remain worldwide, and major nuclear powers continue to modernize their arsenals. With New START gone, the United States and Russia no longer operate under a comprehensive, legally binding framework limiting their strategic nuclear forces.

The NPT Review Conference ended in May without a final document, the third consecutive review cycle to end without substantive consensus. The CTBT, opened for signature three decades ago and supported by nearly the entire international community, has still not entered into force.

Memory Is Not Enough

Writing in The Astana Times ahead of the anniversary, Dr. Dauren Aben of the Kazakhstan Institute for Strategic Studies described the lesson of Semipalatinsk in simple terms: not merely to remember, but to “remember and act.”

Dauren Abenuly Aben. Credit: KazISS

In 1991, Kazakhstan could preserve the nuclear arsenal it inherited as a symbol of national power, or give it up. It chose the second.

That decision did not eliminate nuclear weapons or guarantee irreversible disarmament. Today, the world may instead be entering a new era of nuclear competition.

But one fact remains: a state that had the opportunity to become a nuclear power chose not to do so.

Over the next 35 years, Kazakhstan connected that choice to nuclear-weapon-free zones, the global test ban, the TPNW, victim assistance and environmental remediation. Its cooperation with SGI and a broad range of civil society organizations forms part of that history.

A view of the Headquarters of the United Nations in New York as seen from the north of the UN site. Credit: UN Photo/Yutaka Nagata

Even so, the question posed by the treaty increasingly resembles the question posed by Kazakhstan’s experience:

Does possessing nuclear weapons make nations safer?

Or does genuine security ultimately require a world in which nuclear weapons no longer exist?

Across the former Semipalatinsk testing grounds, traces of the explosions remain — reminders of what humanity has already done with nuclear weapons.

But 35 years ago, Kazakhstan gave the site another meaning: evidence that a country could move from building and testing nuclear weapons toward a deliberate decision to reject them.

The question now is whether the rest of the world still has the political will to make the same choice.

This article is brought to you by INPS Japan and Soka Gakkai International, in consultative status with UN ECOSOC.

IPS UN Bureau

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CIVICUS discusses Sweden’s new migration laws with John Stauffer, legal director and deputy executive director of Civil Rights Defenders, a Swedish civil society organisation that acts as a civil rights watchdog at home and supports human rights defenders in repressive contexts worldwide.

John Stauffer

What are the main changes to Sweden’s immigration laws?

The biggest change is that permanent residence will no longer be available for people with asylum status. Under the new rules, they will only be granted temporary residence permits.

This is being paired with a new law on ‘good behaviour’ for some categories of migrants, which lets the authorities refuse or revoke a permit over conduct that is not necessarily criminal, such as unpaid debts or undeclared work. And it does not only apply to new applications. Permits already granted can be reviewed too.

Citizenship has been tightened along the same lines. Habitual residence requirements have risen from five to eight years and applicants now have to provide proof of income and pass a knowledge test, including a language test. In relation to citizenship, the requirements on ‘good behaviour’ have become stricter.

Then there is the law on information sharing between government authorities, known as the snitch law. It obliges officials who handle benefits, debt enforcement, pensions, prisons and probation, taxes and unemployment services to report undocumented migrants to the police.

All this arrives at the same time as the European Union (EU) Migration Pact, which Sweden has implemented through national legislation. It came into force on 12 June and has tightened the conditions further. It is a package of 10 laws that harmonises how asylum claims are handled across the EU, with faster procedures for people considered unlikely to qualify for protection. In implementing the pact, Sweden has gone further than necessary to limit the rights of asylum seekers, for example on access to legal representation in proceedings. An expressed goal of the government is to have the most restrictive asylum laws possible under EU law.

Who is most affected by these laws?

Asylum seekers, people without citizenship and undocumented migrants are those most hit by these laws, but their reach is wider than it looks.

Under the snitch law, healthcare staff and teachers are not obliged to report undocumented migrants, but they may end up doing so indirectly. If you give birth in a hospital, the hospital must notify the tax authority that a child has been born, and the tax authority is then obliged to pass that on to the police. We already see that undocumented migrants avoid contact with healthcare providers, which severely impacts their right to health.

Then there are young people who have lived in Sweden their whole lives, with parents who came, for example, as asylum seekers. They will be assessed under the new regime once they turn 18 and, if they are seen not to have grounds for a residence permit of their own, they may be sent to a country where they have never lived.

Ultimately, the broader effect of these laws is to erode trust. Asylum seekers and, more broadly, people with a migrant background lose confidence in government authorities. That confidence has always been a cornerstone of our democracy, and one we have been proud of. Once that trust goes, it is not just the government that loses out. It is Swedish society as a whole.

What does this mean for freedoms of assembly and expression?

The good behaviour law means we are no longer all equal before the law. Something a Swedish citizen can say or do without any legal consequence can cost a residence permit holder their right to stay.

What makes this worse is that nobody knows exactly where the line falls. Legal scholars have described these laws as very broad, vague and difficult to apply in practice, so people have no way of telling in advance what might be used against them.

That uncertainty produces a chilling effect on people’s willingness to use their rights. Permit holders who are not citizens are withdrawing from public debate. They stop voicing their views and stay away from protests, because they fear that joining a pro-Palestine march or a climate protest, for example, might cost them their permit. We are, in fact, creating a two-tier system where the lives of non-citizens will be characterised by uncertainty and limited access to rights, while citizens enjoy full rights.

What’s driving these changes?

Sweden used to have comparatively liberal migration laws, but since large numbers of asylum seekers arrived in Europe in 2015, immigration laws have become more and more restrictive. This has intensified particularly since the current centre-right government came to power four years ago with the support of a far-right party, and with the stated goal of reducing the number of asylum seekers and making more migrants leave Sweden, voluntarily or by force. Agreements with repressive regimes to receive their citizens, repatriation grants and measures that will make the lives of migrants in Sweden more uncertain are means to achieve these goals.

The government has been building a narrative that connects migration to rising rates of violent crime. Using that as a justification, it has tried to build strong support for stricter migration policies and at the same time has pushed more repressive policies to combat crime, including greater possibilities to revoke residence permits for migrants who have committed crimes, including less serious crimes.

As we approach the September election, it remains to be seen whether people truly support this model. The largest opposition party, the Social Democrats, have, however, supported many of the new immigration policies. What a left-wing government would mean for asylum seekers is still to be seen. Other countries, particularly France and Germany, are also watching to see how it plays out, and some may adopt similar measures if they see results they regard as positive.

What can civil society do?

Civil Rights Defenders works to influence national legislation and the public debate, to shift how migration is understood and give a more nuanced picture of it. We currently do not have the capacity to generally support asylum seekers and migrants through legal advice, but other organisations do. However, we engage in strategic litigation, taking cases to oversight bodies, courts and the European Court of Human Rights to shape how these laws are implemented.

But our resources are limited, and they are about to be stretched much further. One consequence of the way Sweden is implementing the EU Migration Pact is that the legal support asylum seekers are entitled to through the public scheme has been cut back drastically. The people who lose that support will turn to us and other organisations for support, and Swedish civil society doesn’t currently have the capacity to meet their needs.

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.

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Europe: a race to the bottom on migrants’ rights CIVICUS Lens 21.Aug.2026
Migration: Cruelty as policy CIVICUS | 2026 State of Civil Society Report
Italy: ‘White supremacist concepts are entering mainstream political discourse on migration’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Eleonora Celoria 22.Mar.2026

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Lake Chungará and Parinacota volcano in northern Chile
Credit: Gerd Breitenbach, under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license

By Céline Delacroix
OTTAWA, Canada, Aug 28 2026 (IPS)

This week is World Water Week, the annual conference of governments, business, and civil society on building a water-secure future as global population, climate disruptions, and water demand increase. In Washington, it’s also Water Resources Development Act season, when every two years the US Congress reauthorizes the legilslation that funds US drinking water, wastewater systems, and flood risk management projects.

Water security ought to be something everyone can agree on, and there are long traditions of bipartisanship in past WRDA reauthorizations, and of diversity and inclusiveness in World Water Week conferences. But these days, water is increasingly a trigger for division, from the public outcry over data center water usage to anti-abortion activists introducing legislation to designate the abortion medication mifepristone as a water pollutant and get the US Environmental Protection Agency to regulate it, which is another way to restrict access to it.

For the record, mifepristone is no threat to waterways. Research overwhelmingly confirms its safety and efficacy, and a Food and Drug Administration assessment found its environmental accumulation in water was less than one part per billion. The lone study alleging mifepristone is a water pollutant is junk science. It used a debunked testing method and was published in a journal run by anti-abortion activists, and then cited by other anti-abortion activists.

While the mifepristone water scare is clearly disinformation, it’s so pointedly backwards that it points up an important truth: it isn’t abortion medication that threatens water security; on the contrary, it’s attacks on it and on family planning in general that pose a real threat.

There are several reasons for this. If family planning access is curtailed or cut off and birthrates rise, so will water demand and water stress. It will be worse in places with faster population growth, and worse globally for women and girls, who are the ones who have to collect the water in 80% of households experiencing shortages. Over 2 billion people lack safely managed drinking water. Women and girls suffer disproportionately from water shortages, yet they are generally excluded from decision making bodies or leadership positions that would give them a say in managing water.

In general, research shows that where gender disparities are high, women have more babies, population grows faster, and water scarcity gets worse. But the reverse is also true: where there is investment in and access to comprehensive family planning, and where women and girls are more empowered and included in decision making about managing water resources, over time birth rates decline, water stress eases, and water resiliency grows.

It ought to be obvious that population trends, changing demographics, and urbanization influence demand for water, food, energy, and land. Yet they are strangely absent from discourse on managing environment resources, including water governance. Ditto for gender inequality, which has a strong bearing on population growth.

The UN warns of “living beyond our hydrological means” amid water crisis and reaching “global water bankruptcy,” where water degradation has largely become irreversible. Population and gender issues are not controlling factors in this per se, as their impacts depend on patterns of production and consumption, technology, inequality and governanceThe same number of people can have radically different environmental footprints depending on where and how they live.

But population trends and gender equity are still important variables in how we use water and other resources that planners should not ignore. As human numbers and consumption levels rise, our ecological footprint, including water consumption, has become overwhelming and unsustainable.

This year, the Earth as a whole reached “overshoot day” – the day past which we’re consuming more in a given year than the Earth’s resources can regenerate — on July 30. The U.S. reached it March 14.

Climate change is intensifying drought, altering precipitation and snowpack, putting pressure on groundwater and surface water. For xample, fast regional population growth and development have stressed the Colorado River, which supplies roughly 40 million people and now faces severe and persistent shortages. In other water-stressed regions of the US, agriculture is the biggest consumer of shrinking water resources. The Ogallala Aquifer, for example, is getting depleted faster than it can naturally recharge.

Population dynamics are part of this complex picture. Water resources are embedded in an intricate web of human and ecological interaction. Water governance needs to take a broad, holistic view to understand the nexus of biodiversity, food production, and human needs and health as part of the same interconnected system of planetary health. Within that, managing water requires considering how population trends, human behavior, gender equity, technology, and human-caused climate change influence water systems.

The last thing policymakers should be doing is demonizing family planning as some kind of threat to the water supply. Reproductive health services are an intrinsic matter of human right, but they have critical environmental co-benefits, too, including easing population pressures on overtaxed water resources.

Managing water is not just about pipes and pumps; it’s about complex interactions between humans and ecosystems, managing them so they respect ecological limits as well as human rights and equity, which ultimately are all part of the same complex web. Water connects everything. Policymaking should too.

Céline Delacroix is adjunct professor at the University of Ottawa’s School of Health Sciences, a Senior Fellow with the Population Institute, and Director of the FP/Earth Project.

IPS UN Bureau

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Photo highlighting the activities and successes of the 'Promoting Nature-based Solutions for Land Restoration while Strengthening National Monitoring Technical Working Group in Kenya: Phase 2' project funded by UK PACT. Credit: Anthony Ochieng/CIFOR-ICRAF

By Lulseged Tamene Desta and Cargele Masso
NAIROBI, Kenya, Aug 26 2026 (IPS)

Several coalitions exist today to defend the territories in which people live and work. Global leaders have long understood the importance of shared responsibility for collective security and have invested significant time in establishing networks, partnerships and alliances. In 2025, global spending on defense reached a record $2.9 trillion.

But the global community is increasingly recognizing that today’s gravest existential risks arise from a war being waged against nature itself – and our defenses are woefully fragmented and underfunded. The world is investing only about $220 billion a year for nature-based solutions, compared to $7.3 trillion for nature-negative activities.

This is not just a discrete, isolated environmental concern. The triple planetary crises of land degradation, biodiversity loss and climate change are worsening food insecurity, water scarcity and ecosystem collapse, threatening millions of lives.

Collectively, the impact of the ongoing assault on nature is amplifying conflict, worsening migration, driving inflation higher, and fomenting geopolitical instability. Unless restoration and sustainable management of resources is in place, the world is expected to lose more than US$23 trillion by 2050, while halting this trend would cost around $4.6 trillion.

Many solutions to these interconnected crises exist but have been ineffective to date. Limited coordination and collaboration between countries, sectors and disciplines, as well as insufficient resources and short-term approaches to long-term challenges, mean we are far behind the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals. Despite compelling evidence of the costs of degradation, investment remains far below what is needed because opportunities are rarely presented as credible, investable propositions.

To change this, two things must happen. First, governments, international agencies, academia and civil society must unite through a grand coalition to bring together those currently working in isolation to achieve greater impact than the sum of their parts – a kind of mutual pact to protect nature.

Photo highlighting the activities and successes of the ‘Promoting Nature-based Solutions for Land Restoration while Strengthening National Monitoring Technical Working Group in Kenya: Phase 2’ project funded by UK PACT. Credit: Anthony Ochieng/CIFOR-ICRAF

And second, this grand coalition must also engineer a funding paradigm shift from focusing on environmental challenges to investing in the many opportunities of conservation and restoration.

The ongoing UN COP17 desertification talks in Mongolia, where the theme is “Restoring Land, Restoring Hope”, is the perfect opportunity to progress this.

Evidence shows that integrated approaches to address landscape degradation solve multiple interconnected challenges.

For example, investment in soil and water conservation in the Adarsha watershed in southern India has been found to improve water availability, agricultural productivity, and rural livelihoods. Analysis showed that yields of maize intercropped with pigeonpea increased by 148% while households in the watershed were less affected by droughts compared to those in the non-watershed area.

In Kenya and Tanzania, the adoption of Participatory Rangeland Management improved rangeland condition and resilience to climate shocks for more than 90% of participating communities.

Despite evidence from these successes, these interventions are not being invested in and applied at the scale needed to transform the world’s food, land and water systems in ways that can build long-term, far-reaching resilience.

Countries, donors, financing institutions and civil society must come together in a grand coalition to direct the coordination, governance and investment necessary to tackle these crises where they all interconnect: at the landscape level.

A grand coalition would offer a dedicated focal point to integrate and advance the UN’s goals for climate, biodiversity and land degradation, allowing for stronger coordination and shaping the global agenda for informed decision-making. Critically, the coalition would lead the redirection away from ineffective, siloed solutions and the self-defeating environmental trade-offs they create.

A grand coalition would also create a platform for establishing the rigorous systems of governance essential to achieving global goals for nature, including fair and inclusive land tenure and governance over water systems. Understanding the true cost of landscape governance and inaction is instrumental for adequate investments.

Lastly, a grand coalition would gather the evidence to help shift the emphasis of finance for nature towards investments that benefit everyone. By identifying a menu of options for turning grand challenges into grand opportunities, the coalition would unlock the financing from banks, donors, philanthropies and other development funders needed to scale interventions globally.

The UNCCD COP17 talks in Mongolia is not just an opportunity to address the challenges facing land. It’s a moment to foster unity around a shared threat to all of our territories. CGIAR and its partners will play its part by developing an investment plan to anchor greater coordination in collaboration with the grand coalition of action for shared human and planetary outcomes.

Landscapes are where our greatest environmental and human challenges today are playing out, from declining biodiversity to the deforestation driving climate change, to increasing levels of food insecurity.

Investing in multifunctional landscapes through a unified global coalition, therefore, is not simply an environmental imperative for the world, but also a strategic one. Galvanizing support for landscape-centered solutions can simultaneously reduce future risks and strengthen economies and communities.

A global coalition for restoring and protecting landscapes would recognize a defining reality of the 21st century: protecting nature is fundamental for protecting us all.

Dr. Lulseged Tamene Desta, is Director of the CGIAR Multifunctional Landscapes Science Program
Cargele Masso, is Director of the CGIAR’s Environmental Health and Biodiversity Impact Area Platform

IPS UN Bureau

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Results of the vote on the approval of the appointment of the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, UN General Assembly, 24 July 2026. Credit: UN Photo/Loey Felipe

By Samuel King
BRUSSELS, Belgium, Aug 26 2026 (IPS)

On 24 July, the United Nations (UN) General Assembly reappointed Volker Türk as High Commissioner for Human Rights for a further four years. Only 10 states – among them Israel, Russia and the USA – opposed the decision.

Türk is an Austrian lawyer who’s spent almost his entire career in the UN system, from field postings in Kosovo to the UN refugee agency to his present role in Geneva. Because of this, when he became High Commissioner in October 2022, there were concerns he might be more cautious than his predecessors, but he has spoken out about violations committed by the powerful. He criticised Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, demanded investigations into deaths in US immigration detention and condemned Israel’s atrocities in Gaza. He has, however, faced criticism for not calling out Israel’s actions in Gaza as genocide and not speaking out enough on China, particularly concerning the situation of Uyghur people in Xinjiang.

The vote will make Türk the first person set to serve two full terms since the post was created in 1993. One early High Commissioner, Mary Robinson, wanted to stay on, but strong US resistance to her positions on its post-9/11 military interventionism and the 2001 Durban Conference — the UN’s World Conference against Racism, where Israel and the USA walked out due to its focus on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict — left her with only a one-year extension.

As a funding crisis continues to engulf the UN human rights system, continuity matters. US withdrawal from funding UN agencies, part of its broader assault on the international system in general and human rights bodies in particular, has placed the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) under serious financial strain, forcing staff cuts and reducing capacity to work in countries where human rights violations are taking place. A vacancy or a contested process would have added further disruption at a difficult time.

A rushed and contested process

The vote came unexpectedly and moved fast. UN Secretary-General António Guterres informed states of his intention to reappoint Türk without a public process, open competition or much time for deliberation. With Guterres’ second term ending this year, the move was likely intended to keep the decision off his successor’s desk and prevent opposition from building.

Most states accepted this, but the USA didn’t. It immediately moved to delay the vote, citing insufficient consultation. Ireland, speaking for the European Union, opposed the US motion, which was defeated by 63 votes to 27. The USA’s representative called the process ‘classic UN cronyism’, accused Guterres of cutting a backroom deal and warned there would be ‘consequences’. Russia tried a different tactic, proposing to extend Türk’s mandate by just 81 days, to the end of 2026, leaving the decision to the next Secretary-General. That too was rejected, by 71 votes to 19.

Argentina, Burkina Faso, Israel, Mali, Nicaragua, Niger, North Korea, Russia, Trinidad and Tobago and the USA voted against Türk’s reappointment. The list contains tight US allies, such as Argentina and Israel, and states that align with Russia, such as North Korea and the three military-run states of the Sahel, which are increasingly working as a bloc. Under the Trump administration, it’s no longer a surprise to see the USA voting the same way as Russia. Most of the states, including Nicaragua, systematically violate human rights. Russia and North Korea both resist any accountability for human rights violations, while the USA particularly objected to Türk’s criticism of its war on Iran and migration detention deaths. Israel accused the OHCHR of having ‘erased the atrocities of October 7 and betrayed UN neutrality’.

Some states that might have been expected to vote against Türk, however, supported him. Among the 144 who backed his reappointment were the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Sudan and Syria, all states subject to active UN scrutiny. This suggested that hostility to a specific human rights mandate doesn’t necessarily extend to the whole system, and even heavily scrutinised states may see value in a working relationship with the OHCHR.

A vulnerable human rights system

The 13 abstentions and 26 no-shows also deserve attention. Some were procedural, with Ecuador and Paraguay saying afterwards that they wanted more time. Peru cited concerns about limiting the incoming Secretary-General’s flexibility, though its abstention may also reflect Türk’s recent criticism of Peru’s human rights record, including laws granting amnesty to security forces accused of serious violations during armed conflict between 1980 and 2000.

Iraq, New Zealand, South Korea, Sri Lanka and Uganda all abstained. New Zealand described its position as ‘procedural rather than policy’, but the decision drew sharp domestic criticism, not least given its recent failure to recognise Palestinian statehood.

Among the smaller states that ducked a decision, some likely faced economic or political pressure from the most powerful states to stay quiet, while others may have judged themselves insufficiently protected from the consequences of taking a visible position. This means the vote may reflect vulnerability as much as it measures support for the High Commissioner. As the most powerful states increasingly throw their weight around in the international system, smaller states may have to make calculations about when they can afford to take a position and when they need to stay quiet.

Continuity as the outcome

Institutional continuity is the immediate outcome, and Türk has signalled what he intends to do with it. In a June speech, he described an ‘unprecedented, shameless onslaught against international law’ that’s causing appalling human suffering, insisted the international community must stay focused on fundamentals and declared the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and the core treaties ‘ever more important’. His message to the G7, meeting nearby, was blunt: put human rights at the centre of discussions as a force for stability, not an afterthought.

Legitimacy and moral authority, however, won’t pay the OHCHR’s bills. Over the next four years, Türk must resist China, Russia and the USA as they work to undermine the UN bodies that protect human rights. The 144 states that backed Türk now carry the responsibility of turning their votes into action. They should ensure the OHCHR is adequately funded and work to bring on board states that abstained, particularly if they did so out of fear. They must show that collective commitment to human rights still counts for something.

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

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

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The choice is not between an unmanageably open meeting and a completely closed process. What matters is that observers have some direct line into the negotiations and can see that their expertise and proposals are genuinely considered. Credit: Albert Oppong-Ansah/IPS.

By Craig Boljkovac
GENEVA, Aug 24 2026 (IPS)

In 2022, the United Nations Environment Assembly mandated an Intergovernmental Negotiating Committee (INC) to develop a global, legally binding instrument addressing the full life cycle of plastics, from production and product design to disposal. After the resumed fifth session adjourned without consensus in Geneva in August 2025, the divided process moved into informal consultations before INC-5.4 in March 2027.

The exclusion of observers from the June 2026 Heads of Delegation meeting in Nairobi and the next meeting in Bangkok points to a forced separation between governments and observers during these decisive months. At the moment the negotiations most need scientific knowledge, practical experience, public scrutiny and political confidence, they are becoming less inclusive.

Governments negotiate treaties and take decisions; observers do not claim either function. Meaningful observer participation is nevertheless a mainstream feature of United Nations environmental negotiations, not an optional courtesy or a privilege that must be earned by reorganizing civil society into a form administratively convenient to the Chair and Secretariat

There should be no misunderstanding about roles. Governments negotiate treaties and take decisions; observers do not claim either function.

Meaningful observer participation is nevertheless a mainstream feature of United Nations environmental negotiations, not an optional courtesy or a privilege that must be earned by reorganizing civil society into a form administratively convenient to the Chair and Secretariat.

At the online consultation with observers on 14 July 2026, I personally asked Chair Julio Cordano whether there would be any opportunity for observers to participate face-to-face with governments in the pre-negotiations before INC-5.4.

His answer, although somewhat circuitous, was clear: there would not. The official roadmap currently places governments in informal in-person meetings while observers are offered separate webinars in which they may share their views with the Chair.

The webinars may be useful, but they are not participation in the negotiations. Observers speaking to the Chair while governments negotiate separately is consultation at a distance. Direct observer engagement with governments may therefore be almost entirely prevented until INC-5.4, with no certainty about how meaningful participation will be even then.

Bangkok is important, but it is not the fundamental issue. The question is whether the remaining process will rebuild trust and establish genuine engagement rather than maintain parallel tracks.

The Chair’s statement that INC-5.4 will follow previously agreed participation arrangements, including observers, is cautiously positive, but it does not replace clear modalities or direct engagement while the political package is being shaped.

None of this is intended as disrespect toward Ambassador Cordano. He inherited an exceptionally difficult negotiation, with a fractured text and a political divide between the High Ambition Coalition and the Like-Minded countries.

The June Heads of Delegation meeting reportedly produced a more constructive atmosphere, and confidential spaces for governments to test compromises are sometimes essential. But confidentiality and meaningful observer engagement are not mutually exclusive.

The Stockholm Convention negotiations set an admittedly high bar. Civil-society networks organized themselves, developed technical and policy positions and built working relationships with governments throughout the process.

The International Pollutants (formerly “POPs”) Elimination Network – IPEN – itself emerged at the first Stockholm Convention INC in 1998 as a self-organised public interest entity for engagement in such negotiations.

The Rotterdam and Stockholm Convention secretariats continue to recognize NGOs as important stakeholders and provide for their representation as observers at meetings of Convention bodies. These negotiations did not succeed ‘despite’ observer involvement; they benefited from the expertise, organization, implementation knowledge and political attention observers brought.

The plastics negotiations should aim to meet or exceed that standard, not retreat from it. Plastics are chemical products, made with chemical inputs, that generate enormous pollution and waste-management challenges. The negotiations belong within the chemicals and wastes tradition, where constructive observer participation has been part of both treaty development and implementation.

The UNEA mandate points in the same direction. Resolution 5/14 stressed the need for the widest and most effective participation possible, opened participation to relevant stakeholders consistent with applicable UN rules and requested UNEP to facilitate their participation and cooperation.

More generally, UNEP accreditation gives civil-society organizations observer status at UNEA and its subsidiary bodies, with opportunities for written and oral contributions. A process that progressively removes stakeholders from the settings in which substantive discussions occur diminishes the practical meaning of that mandate.

The Chair’s continuing emphasis on “organizing” and “rationalizing” observer participation is therefore understandable as an attempt to manage a large and diverse community at a particularly fraught point in the negotiations, but it becomes concerning when substantive proposals from major observer groups receive no meaningful response.

Better coordination may improve participation; it cannot be a prerequisite for access. Indigenous Peoples, scientists, waste pickers, workers, public-health organizations, environmental NGOs, consumer groups, local authorities and business coalitions have distinct mandates and cannot simply be compressed into a few convenient voices without losing the diversity that gives observer participation its value.

There is, however, a practical way forward. the process that the WHO Framework Convention on Tobacco Control has made a distinction between observers with “vested interests” (i.e. the tobacco companies and their associated interests) and the “public interest.” This possible approach has also been suggested during the negotiations, with no substantive response received.

Alternatively, UNEP already has a recognized Major Groups Facilitating Committee, composed of elected representatives of the nine Major Groups and supported by the UNEP Civil Society Unit, whose responsibility includes facilitating accredited civil-society participation in UNEP’s intergovernmental processes.

The Chair could ask this existing mechanism to invite each Major Group to nominate one or two organizations, selected for relevant expertise and balanced representation, to attend informal governmental meetings as silent observers or, where appropriate, to contribute at designated sessions.

This would resemble the approach used under the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change, where the secretariat contacts constituency focal points to nominate a limited and balanced number of observer representatives for smaller workshops and meetings.

The model is imperfect: UNEP’s Major Groups do not neatly encompass every constituency engaged in the plastics negotiations, and limited representation at informal meetings must not replace broad access at formal INC sessions. It would nevertheless remove the claim that observers have failed to organize themselves, place responsibility within an existing and recognized UNEP process, and avoid the Chair or Secretariat choosing preferred interlocutors.

The choice is not between an unmanageably open meeting and a completely closed process. What matters is that observers have some direct line into the negotiations and can see that their expertise and proposals are genuinely considered.

The present separation also carries financial and political risks. The INC has depended heavily on voluntary donor support. As of 25 March 2026, UNEP reported more than USD 40 million in contributions, including more than USD 7.2 million from Norway and approximately USD 2.5 million from Switzerland. Norway’s subsequent review and reported hold on aspects of its wider UNEP funding was already a warning that financing cannot be treated as politically unconditional.

No donor has announced that restrictions on observers will cause it to withdraw support. Donor governments may nevertheless ask why they should continue financing a process that repeatedly postpones decisions, accommodates the least ambitious actors and limits access for many of the organizations supplying evidence, implementation experience and public accountability. A process that loses legitimacy also places its financing at risk.

INC-5.4 is the final credible test of whether the UNEP process can produce a treaty reflecting the mandate agreed in 2022. The session cannot arrive after months of closed governmental discussions with observers presented with a largely completed political package. The Chair and Secretariat should clarify participation modalities now and establish structured, direct engagement with observers before March, using UNEP’s existing civil-society architecture if necessary.

If INC-5.4 produces another continuation or a lowest-common-denominator text stripped of meaningful lifecycle measures and effective controls on products, production and chemicals, high-ambition governments should be prepared to pursue an Ottawa-style diplomatic process.

That is not the preferred outcome; a strong global treaty concluded through UNEP remains the better course. But the UN process cannot demand political loyalty, donor financing and stakeholder expertise while progressively closing the door on those stakeholders.

Rebuilding trust with observers will not solve every substantive division in the plastics negotiations. It is, however, a necessary test of whether the process still intends to be ambitious, legitimate and capable of delivering an effective treaty. If that test cannot be met, countries serious about ending plastic pollution may need to create a different pathway.

Craig Boljkovac is Executive Director of Green Cross International and has more than 35 years of experience in international environmental policy and sustainable development. He is a co-founder of IPEN. He has participated in several sessions and related meetings of the global plastics treaty negotiations. The opinions expressed are his own.

 
CIVICUS discusses the rapid erosion of civic space in Ecuador with Gabriela Panchana, an activist, communicator and founder of the En Voz Alta and Rumbo Plural digital platforms.

Gabriela Panchana

How did the legal proceedings against you start, and what stage are they at?

The current proceedings began with a thread I posted on Twitter/X on 9 June, in which I asked the US Embassy in Quito to help shed light on the murder of Monika Silva Koniuszek, a Polish human rights defender based in Ecuador who had handed over documentation on alleged drug-trafficking networks to the embassy and the US Drug Enforcement Administration. Someone accused me of speaking ‘solely out of financial self-interest’. I replied, and as a result I was charged with a fourth-class offence, which is the least serious category of criminal offences.

The proceedings were riddled with irregularities. They were exceptionally swift and involved several different judges, while observers were barred from attending. On 27 July, I was sentenced to 30 days’ imprisonment and ordered to issue a public apology. I applied to the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR) for interim measures. On 14 August, I received notification of the written judgment. We lodged appeals before the three-working-day deadline expired. Meanwhile, not a single person has been arrested in connection with the murder of Monika Silva.

The harassment did not begin with this trial. Since December, four successive criminal cases have been brought against me. This has been accompanied by a coordinated campaign of online harassment and stigmatisation.

Added to this is digital surveillance. On 13 August, I received an official alert from Apple confirming that my phone had been the target of a mercenary spyware attack. The evidence is currently undergoing forensic analysis by international organisations. Given that this incident forms part of a pattern of judicial harassment and persecution against me, I have demanded the state investigate who authorised the spying and shed light on the public procurement of intelligence tools.

It’s important not to lose sight of the fact that Monika Silva handed over documentation to foreign authorities regarding networks operating in Ecuador, and now she’s dead. I have been convicted for calling for an investigation into her death. Any analysis that focuses solely on freedom of expression falls short. We must also ask what relationship exists between criminal structures and parts of the judicial system.

How else are people being criminalised for speaking out?

My case is not an anomaly. It’s the predictable application of a law designed for that purpose. Section 396.1 of the Criminal Code punishes expressions that ‘discredit or dishonour’, concepts subject to judicial discretion, with imprisonment. The fundamental problem is that it turns expression into a criminal matter.

Other cases confirm this pattern. In May, four habeas data applications – a legal remedy to demand the rectification or removal of information – resulted in rulings ordering various media outlets to remove content of public interest and issue public apologies, the same penalty that was imposed on me. In June, an investigative journalist announced he would stop covering one of the country’s biggest corruption cases after his wife was dismissed from a public job and his son lost his medical residency at a state hospital.

The wider picture is even more worrying. The IACHR’s Special Rapporteur for Freedom of Expression documented at least six murders of journalists and media professionals in 2025, as well as the use of administrative, legal and tax measures as reprisals.

Criminalisation is not limited to the press. Human rights defenders and social leaders face investigations and criminal proceedings because of their work.

What are the consequences of criminalisation?

The punishment is not just the sentence. It is the process itself. Even if I win on appeal, I have already lost months, resources and peace of mind, and I have been exposed to a campaign of digital lynching. There’s no need to convict many. It’s enough to convict one person quickly and in full view of everyone. Added to this is the nature of the punishment. Forced public apologies don’t provide redress for anyone. They force a person to say out loud the opposite of what they think. They serve as a deterrent. They seek to discipline others.

The impact of judicial persecution is uneven. I have been able to mount a professional defence and appeal to international bodies, but most of those who speak out don’t have these resources, and a fourth-class offence spells the end of their public participation. The categories of people covered by international mechanisms also leave many people unprotected. Those of us who carry out citizen oversight from our own platforms are neither civil society organisations nor the press, yet we face many of the same risks and have less support.

The most worrying thing is that the public debate has shifted from asking who killed Monika Silva to asking what Gabriela Panchana wrote. The judicial system took action in a matter of weeks against an opinion, while the murder investigation has been at a standstill for months. This asymmetry reveals the system’s priorities.

How has civil society responded, and what are its demands?

The response has been quicker and more coordinated than I expected. Fundamedios, an organisation that monitors attacks on freedom of expression, has issued three successive alerts about my case, and other organisations have supported this with statements, monitoring and advice. There’s a network that documents, challenges in court, publicises these attacks and understands how administrative restrictions, coordinated online harassment, legal proceedings, physical threats and stigmatisation combine to silence those of us who speak out.

The authorities must repeal paragraph 1 of article 396 of the Criminal Code and guarantee an independent judiciary, with transparent proceedings and hearings open to domestic and international observers. They must also establish a national protection mechanism for human rights defenders and journalists, and diligently investigate the murder of Monika Silva and threats against those who expose corruption and organised crime.

Official stigmatisation must cease. When those in power portray journalists and human rights defenders as enemies, it opens the door to all other forms of violence.

What international support is needed?

The first and most tangible step is the monitoring of ongoing cases. The presence of international observers at hearings, requests for information from the state and public monitoring of case files can change the behaviour of courts.

We also need existing international mechanisms, such as the IACHR and United Nations human rights experts, to be activated and maintained. But this requires constant monitoring.

Support must also be practical. Human rights defenders need resources for digital security, legal defence and psychosocial support. Criminal proceedings require lawyers, expert reports and time, all of which come at a cost.

It is also important to raise the profile of these cases. When a case receives public attention, those behind the reprisals pay a political price. A case nobody knows about carries no cost.

Finally, countries and organisations working with Ecuador on justice and security issues can exert pressure to ensure judicial independence is respected and expression is not criminalised. International solidarity must translate into advocacy, monitoring, resources and follow-up.

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.

Ecuador has been placed on the CIVICUS Monitor Watchlist, which identifies countries where a severe deterioration in the quality of civic space is taking place.

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Ecuador remains on the CIVICUS Monitor Watchlist CIVICUS Monitor 29.Jul.2026
Ecuador: ‘Defending rights should not be a high-risk activity’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Mauricio Alarcón 04.Jul.2026
Ecuador: ‘We fear the Transparency Law will be used to persecute organisations that challenge those in power’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Vivian Idrovo 12.Sep.2025

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Supporters of the Cockroach Janta party rally against the Minister of Education in Kolkata, India, 24 July 2026. Credit: Debarchan Chatterjee/NurPhoto via AFP

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Aug 21 2026 (IPS)

India’s strongman leader, Narendra Modi, has just been forced to do the thing he likes least: making concessions in response to protests.

It all started on 15 May, when the country’s Chief Justice, Surya Kant, told a courtroom that unemployed young people who protest and speak out on social media are like cockroaches. The remark, revealing the establishment’s contempt for the country’s young people, spectacularly backfired. Within days it had spawned a nationwide movement, the Cockroach Janta Party. Its central protest demand was the resignation of Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan. Pradhan quit on 25 July. But that may not be enough to satisfy the demand for change the movement has unleashed.

Birth of a movement

India has more Gen Z people than any other country. Around 407 million Indians, some 30 per cent of the population, are aged 14 to 29. They face extraordinary competition to access education and struggle to find jobs.

Kant’s remark sparked a fire. Communications strategist Abhijeet Dipke asked on social media: what if all the cockroaches came together? That question kickstarted a viral movement under a name, the Cockroach Janta Party, that playfully echoes that of the ruling Hindu nationalist party, the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). What began as a satirical website quickly became a movement. Within two weeks, it had 22 million Instagram followers.

The cockroach movement fits into a broader global pattern. Recent years have seen Gen Z mobilise in numbers in many countries where governments are demonstrably out of touch and economies and political systems fail young people. Movements are characterised by collective leadership, mass protests and strategic use of social media. India’s time to join the wave had come.

The movement soon found its galvanising cause. India’s education system relies on make-or-break entrance exams, with results deciding the career prospects of millions. In the medical college exam, some 2.2 million students compete for 130,000 places. Families make sacrifices and students spend years preparing. But corruption means questions are often leaked in return for bribes. Two weeks before Kant’s outburst, the national medical college entrance exam paper was leaked and the exam was cancelled. Students despaired. Then they got angry.

Protest prevails

Protesters camped out for weeks in central Delhi, demanding Pradhan’s resignation. Volunteers supplied food, water, medicines and camping equipment. The movement broadened well beyond Gen Z, with people of all ages joining. Sonam Wangchuk, an environmental and education reform activist previously jailed for protesting, further raised the protest’s profile with a weeks-long hunger strike.

For seven weeks the government tried ignoring the protesters, and when that failed, it turned to violence. After authorities forcibly hospitalised Wangchuk, thousands of protesters marched from the protest site to parliament. Security forces responded with pellet guns and teargas, beat protesters and bystanders with batons and wooden sticks and detained many. The violence, widely documented on social media, was shocking for a country that prides itself on being the world’s biggest democracy. It was impossible to ignore, sparking protests in other towns and cities. The government was finally forced to hold talks.

Looking ahead

The government has promised fast-track courts for exam leakers and a review of the exam and education systems. In return, the movement called off the protests, having also secured a promise that no protester would face repercussions. But that’s not the way of a government that has long repressed dissent. Modi’s administration has a track record of detaining activists, using force against protests, censoring critical voices and passing restrictive laws. India has recently been added to the CIVICUS Monitor Watchlist because of its deteriorating civic space. Since the cockroach protests ended, police have detained and harassed hundreds of students and reportedly targeted their families.

Pradhan’s resignation was a remarkable event. The government had never before responded to pressure by sacking an unpopular minister. But the BJP doesn’t appear to have learned much. During a recent by-election campaign, its national president, Nitin Nabin, described protesters as ‘a virus and a cockroach gang devoted to breaking the country’.

Modi may have bought breathing space, but the underlying problems remain. The causes are both economic, with high youth unemployment and evident inequality, and political, with a high-handed government that doesn’t listen to young people or respect their right to dissent. Further protests look likely. One, sparked by similar corruption complaints over a civil service entry exam, has mobilised in Jharkhand state.

This isn’t the first time Modi’s government has bent to pressure. In 2021, sustained farmers’ protests forced it to drop farming law changes. Modi’s support fell in the 2024 general election, forcing him to rely on coalition partners. More recently, his party looked to be on the up again, winning power in West Bengal state for the first time in April following controversial changes to the electoral roll that removed over nine million names, disproportionately Muslim voters and others less likely to support the BJP. But it has just lost the by-election where Nitin Nabin repeated the cockroach slur.

The cockroach movement may present Modi’s biggest challenge to date, because it cuts across class, party and religious divides, making it much harder to dismiss. The BJP built its base among Hindus by vilifying Muslims, yet at the Delhi protest, people from both religions prayed side by side. The movement’s social media cut-through is also significant. It bypassed a conventional media largely co-opted by the BJP that typically parrots its lines and downplays other viewpoints.

The government should read the room, but there’s every chance it will learn the wrong lesson and go after protest leaders. That will be a recipe for further protests and a repeated cycle of state violence and criminalisation. If India is to live up to its promise as the world’s biggest democracy, it must deepen democratic freedoms, recognise the value of dissent and acknowledge that the young people it branded cockroaches have much to contribute to their country’s future.

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

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

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A smoke- free UN corridor. Credit: IPS

By Thalif Deen
UNITED NATIONS, Aug 19 2026 (IPS)

When smoking was common in the corridors of the UN, in the delegate’s lounge and in committee rooms during the 1970s and 90s, the office of the Secretary-General sent a memo that read: “Smoking was Discouraged” in the UN building—sounding far short of a ban.

The Russian Ambassador Sergey Lavrov (1994-2004), currently the country’s Foreign Minister, left a Security Council meeting and pulled out a cigarette in the presence of half a dozen reporters waiting for him outside the chamber.

As he approached the reporters, one of them told him that the Secretary-General had banned smoking in the building. And Lavrov shot back: “This building does not belong to the Secretary-General. It belongs to member states: he said, as he lit his cigarette.

And Lavrov was dead on target.

The ban on smoking became effective only after the 193-member General Assembly adopted a resolution back in 2008—18 years ago.

Under Resolution 63/8 and Secretariat Information Circular ST/IC/2016/10, the United Nations enforced a complete ban on indoor smoking and the sale of tobacco products across all UN Headquarters premises. Smoking and vaping were restricted exclusively to designated, signposted open-air areas.

• The resolution 63/8, adopted on November 3, 2008, mandated a total ban on indoor smoking and tobacco sales at UN Headquarters in New York, while recommending similar restrictions across all regional and country offices system-wide.
• Information Circular ST/IC/2016/10: This administrative issuance updated and superseded prior circulars (such as ST/IC/2009/29), reiterating strict compliance guidelines for staff, delegates, and visitors regarding the smoke-free workplace mandate.

But apparently there were violations of the ban.

A new circular released last week by the Division of Healthcare Management and Occupational Safety and Health (DHMOSH), which is a division within the United Nations Department of Operational Support (DOS), has reiterated the ban on smoking– and well ahead of the arrival of thousands of delegates who will be at the UN for the General Assembly sessions in mid-September.

“Please remember: terraces, verandas, entrances and other outdoor spaces are not automatically smoking areas. Smoking and vaping should take place only where the area is specifically designated and clearly marked”.

The World Health Organization (WHO), says the circular, states that there is no safe level of exposure to second-hand tobacco smoke and that fully smoke-free environments provide the most effective protection.

Even brief exposure can affect cardiovascular and respiratory health, particularly for people with asthma, cardiovascular disease, other respiratory conditions, or heightened sensitivity to smoke.

Second-hand smoke can drift beyond the person smoking and affect colleagues, delegates, visitors and service personnel who have not chosen to be exposed. Vape aerosol may also contain nicotine, ultrafine particles and other potentially harmful substances; for this reason, vaping is subject to the same UNHQ restrictions.

According to WHO, a UN agency based in Geneva, tobacco damages nearly every organ in the body, causing cancer, heart disease, stroke, lung disease, reduced fertility, weakened immunity and premature death.

• Tobacco kills more than 7 million people each year, including over 1.6 million non-smokers who are exposed to second-hand smoke.
• All forms of tobacco use are harmful, and there is no safe level of exposure.
• Around 80% of the world’s 1.2 billion tobacco users live in low- and middle-income countries
• Nicotine is highly addictive and harmful, particularly for children, adolescents and young adults whose brains are still developing.

The tobacco epidemic, says WHO, is one of the biggest public health threats the world has ever faced, responsible for over 7 million deaths annually as well as disability and long-term suffering from tobacco-related diseases.

Tobacco use is a major risk factor for cardiovascular and respiratory diseases, over 20 different types or subtypes of cancer, and many other debilitating health conditions.

All forms of tobacco use are harmful, and there is no safe level of exposure to tobacco. Cigarette smoking is the most common form of tobacco use worldwide. Other tobacco products include waterpipe tobacco, cigars, cigarillos, heated tobacco, roll-your-own tobacco, pipe tobacco, bidis and kreteks, and smokeless tobacco products.

Nicotine is highly addictive and harmful, particularly for children, adolescents and young adults whose brains are still developing. Nicotine exposure during adolescence can affect brain development, including impacts on attention and learning.

Early nicotine use can increase the likelihood of long-term dependence and future use of other nicotine and tobacco products. Nicotine use also increases cardiovascular risk, the WHO warned.

“Around 80% of the 1.2 billion tobacco users worldwide live in low- and middle-income countries (2), where the burden of tobacco-related illness and death is heaviest. Tobacco use contributes to poverty by diverting household spending from basic needs such as food and shelter to tobacco. This spending behaviour is difficult to curb because tobacco is very addictive”.

The economic costs of tobacco use are substantial and include significant health care costs for treating the diseases caused by tobacco use, as well as the lost human capital that results from tobacco-attributable morbidity and mortality.

IPS UN Bureau Report

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CIVICUS discusses the state of civic and humanitarian action in Gaza with Ibrahim Arandas, a Palestinian activist and project manager at SPARK Gaza, a civil society organisation that provides humanitarian and psychosocial support.

Ibrahim Arandas

What’s life like for people in Gaza now, and what needs are most urgent?

Today, life is defined by scarcity and uncertainty. Israel has turned Gaza into something far worse than a concentration camp. It has engineered a system designed not just to confine and suffocate an entire population, but to erode people’s lives day after day, generation by generation. This is not a simple military operation but deliberate, prolonged destruction, calibrated to keep people alive, but just enough to avoid global outrage while denying every basic condition of human dignity.

The psychological toll is enormous. Aid agencies report that anxiety and severe helplessness have become the norm rather than the exception, particularly among families who have lost their homes, routines and support networks. Our most urgent needs are clean water, healthcare, shelter and mental health support.

What has changed and what obstacles to humanitarian work remain?

When the ceasefire was announced, we thought it meant the end of the war and the suffering. Before the war, two million of us lived across Gaza. We have lost friends and family, and now live in just 36 per cent of the territory.

The hardest issue we face is reaching vulnerable people with the aid they need, including basic supplies, healthcare and mental health support. Patients need healthcare, but our teams cannot reach them. Israel makes movement between areas extremely hard, particularly during periods of escalation, when near-constant closures and limited crossings determine who enters and leaves Gaza.

This is a high-risk, complex environment and we have to stay adaptive to reach the sites and people who depend on us. Every movement implies high risk, but there’s no risk register.

How has your organisation’s work evolved?

We have grown. Gaza has lived through many wars, but we’d never faced conditions like these. In Gaza, you can’t plan a month or two ahead. Things collapse, and the plan has to be redesigned every day.

In our European Union-funded project, we had to constantly redesign how we deliver programming, shifting activities and timelines and sometimes moving sessions online, because access to project sites and young people can change from week to week depending on movement restrictions and security conditions.

We work under constant uncertainty, with internet and network cut-offs overnight and contact with front-line workers lost within an hour. From this, we learned and adapted existing global standards to our context. I developed and published a framework I call ‘adaptive conflict project management’, useful for working in conflict-affected areas like Gaza. It sets out how to build a risk plan, delegate to frontline workers rather than only leaders, divide projects across areas because movement is restricted and keep every worker feeling safe and supported.

How has civil society sustained the response and what support does it need?

Coordination has been essential. One of our few sources of resilience is local organising, combined with international partners who bring resources and access to global platforms like CIVICUS. The combination of local knowledge and international backing has kept civic and humanitarian work alive under the most difficult conditions.

As a frontline worker, what I believe is most needed is sustained access. It’s not just about the volume of aid, but about the ability to plan around consistent access to people and areas. We also need investment in local capacity, not only emergency relief, so Gaza’s civil society can lead the recovery rather than only respond to the crisis. We want to lead this recovery and think beyond emergency relief.

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.

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Gaza: ceasefire an illusion CIVICUS Lens | Article 15.Mar.2026
Gaza: ‘Humanitarian aid matters for survival, but its dynamics diminish Palestinian agency’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Ali Abdel-Wahab 16.Feb.2026
‘Life in Gaza’s shelters is marked by deprivation – but also by the endurance of human dignity’ CIVICUS Lens | Anonymous interview 12.Aug.2025

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Indigenous Peoples' organisations have called for better support for their meaningful participation at COP 17 and across this year’s Rio Conventions gatherings. Credit: Anastasia Rodopoulou/IISD/ENB

By Naureen Hossain
UNITED NATIONS, Aug 18 2026 (IPS)

Indigenous communities have long advocated for the environment through the lens of their traditional knowledge systems and cultures. But much more work needs to be done to translate their presence into influence.

A new report from Nia Tero, an international nonprofit that aims to strengthen Indigenous guardianship over ancestral lands and waters, examines the factors that have limited Indigenous Peoples’ influence in global environmental decision-making.

The report, “Beyond Fragmentation: Advancing Coherence, Equity, and Indigenous Leadership Across the Rio Conventions”, was formally launched at the 17th Conference of the Parties to the UN Convention to Combat Desertification (UNCCD), or COP17, currently underway in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, during a side event focused on strengthening coherence across the Rio Conventions.

The UNCCD is one of three climate frameworks that emerged from the 1992 United Nations Conference on Environment and Development, held in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. It, along with the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD) and the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC), is one of the landmark global conventions that address environmental crises of climate change, biodiversity loss and desertification in the modern age.

This year, all three conventions will be hosting climate conferences, starting with UNCCD COP17, which makes it an appropriate occasion to launch the report, according to Margarita Mora, Chief Programmes Officer at Nia Tero.

The goal of the report, Mora told Inter Press Service, is to “encourage Parties, UN bodies, and funders to better support Indigenous Peoples’ meaningful participation here and across this year’s Rio Conventions gatherings”.

Margarita Mora, Chief Programmes Officer, Nia Tero. Credit: Nia Tero

“Launching the report at COP17 helps draw greater attention to the UNCCD, which remains the least known of the three Rio Conventions, and starts a conversation we can carry into the climate and biodiversity COPs later this year,” said Minnie Degawan of the Kankanaey-Igorot, an indigenous group from northern Luzon, Philippines, and the Managing Director, FSC Indigenous Foundation.

The report examines Indigenous Peoples’ recognition and participation in the Rio Conventions. Climate change, biodiversity loss and land degradation are all interconnected. These all impact lands and territories, which are “central to Indigenous Peoples’ identity, cultures, and ways of life,” Degawan, the report’s author, told Inter Press Service.

Drawing on expert interviews and surveys with participants, the report reveals what it describes as a fragmented response to these issues. While environmental harms are interconnected, they are governed through their frameworks, institutions and funding streams. This siloed approach to the Rio Conventions presents challenges to Indigenous Peoples. Representatives may be expected to attend multiple conferences where they discuss related issues through different institutional structures. Thus, they address topics like safeguards, territorial governance, and traditional knowledge separately.

Minnie Degawan of the Kankanaey-Igorot, an indigenous group from northern Luzon, Philippines, and the Managing Director, FSC Indigenous Foundation. Credit: SC Indigenous Foundation

The recognition of Indigenous Peoples has seen considerable progress since the Rio Conventions were first introduced. Traditional leaders and activists have advocated for the formal acknowledgement of Indigenous rights in these climate frameworks, their efforts spanning decades. The report notes that this recognition is not consistent across the frameworks.

Neither the UNFCCC nor the UNCCD explicitly referenced Indigenous Peoples or their rights in their original texts. However, subsequent decisions, provisions and ongoing advocacy have strengthened the recognition of Indigenous Peoples, their rights and their participation within the two frameworks. On the other hand, the CBD directly references Indigenous and local communities in its original framework, acknowledging their dependence on biological resources in accordance with traditional knowledge that is relevant to biodiversity efforts.

Since then, Indigenous people’s engagement within the Rio Conventions can be measured in a few ways, including a broader recognition of them as stakeholders within these processes, participation in formal and informal conferences, and a recognition of traditional knowledge in addressing environmental challenges.

While the visibility and participation of Indigenous representatives has increased over the years, this does not necessarily translate into meaningful influence when it comes to decision-making processes. The decisions in these frameworks are largely determined by the States, with insufficient input from Indigenous Peoples at these conferences. Indigenous Peoples still attend climate conferences as observers, with limited influence in formal text negotiations. The influence should “[go] beyond having Indigenous Peoples in the room”, Degawan said.

As she elaborates in the report, Indigenous Peoples’ participation in text negotiation is somewhat limited. Most of their involvement in climate conferences takes place in side events or informal dialogues. This is ironic, given that the report was launched at a side event. Structural barriers such as language constraints, accreditation issues, travel and visa issues and insufficient funding only further limit opportunities.

This is also indicative of a wider issue of the cost of participation. Indigenous representatives are expected to attend multiple meetings, which require extensive investments and resources. This is in service to increasing their visibility, but at present it creates a risk of burnout and a concentration of knowledge and expertise among what is a relatively small group of experienced negotiators and technical experts.

All of these factors emphasise the need to improve conditions for Indigenous Peoples to enact meaningful influence in climate discussions. “It means creating the conditions for Indigenous Peoples to actually shape decisions – from setting priorities and contributing to negotiating texts before they are finalised to influencing how commitments are implemented and financed,” Degawan said.

What Degawan and the report observe is that representatives can build on existing benchmarks within the Rio Conventions and identify where their participation has been stronger, so they can apply these strategies across all three. This would mean building greater coherence among existing structures so that different institutions and actors work together in a way that reflects the interconnected nature of environmental challenges and the realities Indigenous Peoples experience. For their part, Nia Tero are dedicating their efforts to supporting coordinated Indigenous engagement during UNCCD COP17.

“The goal is not to create new benchmarks, but to ensure that progress in one convention can help raise the standard for meaningful Indigenous Peoples’ participation across the others,” Degawan said.

“The real measure of progress is whether participation translates into meaningful influence over negotiations and decisions affecting Indigenous Peoples and ancestral territories. Full, meaningful inclusion of Indigenous Peoples at this and the following Rio Conventions COPs will put the international community – not just Indigenous Peoples – in the best position to achieve humanity’s shared goals for a healthy, prosperous planet,” said Mora.

The report recommends that the convention secretariats move beyond making rhetorical commitments and take practical steps, including improving Indigenous Peoples’ access to negotiating spaces and providing them with more opportunities to input into negotiating texts. These bodies should also strengthen safeguards to ensure Indigenous participation mechanisms are not treated in isolation.

Progress in their participation across the Rio Conventions warrants reflection on Indigenous Peoples’ representation in other frameworks. Within the context of broader structural changes, such as those introduced under the UN80 initiative, there have been questions of consolidating mandates in the name of increasing efficiency in the UN system, which should serve every member of the international community.

Degawan warned that Indigenous representatives are concerned over a potential weakening of the hard-won gains in recognition and formal spaces within the UN system. Any reforms should therefore, she said, build on these gains rather than roll them back.

The full report is available at www.niatero.org/RioReport

IPS UN Bureau Report

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Amna Idres Musa Mahamod leads the Al-Wifag Women’s Association in Toker, Sudan. Photographed for the Through Her Lens: Women Rising for Peace Exhibition. Credit: UN Women/Mona Elfateh

By Shuli Wong
UNITED NATIONS, Aug 17 2026 (IPS)

Women-led and women’s rights organizations (WLOs) in humanitarian settings are collapsing amidst a complicated predicament in which needs are surging and international support is dwindling.

These organizations are often the first responders in humanitarian and conflict settings, providing psychosocial and gender-based violence (GBV) support; however, 84 percent of WLOs surveyed report that women and girls in the communities they serve have reduced access to essential services, according to UN Women’s July 2026 Beyond the Breaking Point report.

The report surveyed 855 WLOs operating across 52 crisis- and conflict-affected countries and found that as women and girls face heightened risks and increased need for assistance, services and support have dwindled significantly. Nine in ten organizations say they cannot meet the current levels of need, and two in five expect to shut down either temporarily or permanently within the next year.

Galit Wolfensohn, UN Women’s Humanitarian Research and Knowledge Management Specialist

Beyond the Breaking Point builds off UN Women’s alarm first raised in their 2025 report, At a Breaking Point. In it, they warned that half of WLOs surveyed in crisis zones risked closure within six months if current funding levels persisted. Fifteen months later, the situation remains the same. When asked what the warning in ‘At a Breaking Point’ generated from donors, Galit Wolfensohn, UN Women’s Humanitarian Research and Knowledge Management Specialist, told Inter Press Service it brought “greater recognition among donor governments and humanitarian partners of the severe consequences that funding reductions were having.” She added that the response has “not matched the scale or urgency of the crisis…the latest findings show that recognition alone is not enough.”

When examining the collapse of WLOs, Sudan offers an illuminating case to understand the on-the-ground impacts of the reduction of services. Over three years of conflict in Sudan have driven GBV needs to unprecedented levels, with the number of girls and women requiring GBV services quadrupling since the conflict began. However, two-thirds of WLOs in Sudan reported having to close or significantly reduce services, and half expect to close entirely within the next year without urgent financial support.

Salvator Nkurunziza, UN Women’s Representative in Sudan

As WLOs across Sudan have had to either close or scale back operations, Nkurunziza explained that “women and girls lose access not only to critical support but also to safe spaces that provide protection, psychosocial assistance, information, and a sense of security.” WLOs act as trusted entry points for survivors of GBV seeking help, and when these services disappear and become harder to access, survivors “may be less able or willing to seek assistance.” When services disappear, it creates a vicious cycle that “can result in prolonged exposure to violence, increased psychosocial distress, and heightened protection risks,” including greater reliance on “negative coping mechanisms, like child marriage and other harmful practices.”

“What we are observing is likely only the surface, as the absence of quality services is deterring those in need from seeking help,” Fabrizia Falcione, UNFPA’s Representative in Sudan, said on help-seeking behaviors in GBV survivors. In El Obeid, UNFPA estimates that 55,712 women and girls are at an increased risk of GBV as of August.

Fabrizia Falcione, UNFPA’s Representative in Sudan

Despite the operational and financial challenges, he remarked that many Sudanese WLOs “have demonstrated remarkable resilience and adaptability”. Organizations have “continued to provide services by reprioritizing activities, mobilizing community-based volunteers, utilizing remote modalities where feasible, and strengthening partnerships with other local actors to share resources and referral networks.” However, Nkurunziza was clear that these adaptive approaches “are not a substitute for sustained financial support.”

On a global scale, Wolfensohn outlined the changes that need to happen within the next six months to reverse the course of what was documented in the reports. “Donors must protect and increase funding for WLOs by providing direct, flexible, predictable and multi-year financing,” she said.

At the same time, Wolfensohn emphasized that funding alone is not sufficient: “women’s organizations must be recognized as essential humanitarian partners through meaningful participation and leadership in humanitarian coordination and decision-making.”

Reversing the current trajectory requires a type of accountability that does not yet exist: “measurable commitments, clear funding targets and greater transparency on how much humanitarian financing reaches local women-led organizations directly,” Wolfensohn said. Without decisive action, WLOs will be forced to scale back or close services globally.

“Reversing this trend is not only about sustaining organizations; it is about safeguarding access to protection services, GBV prevention and response, livelihoods support, and other critical assistance relied upon by women and girls in crisis settings,” Wolfensohn remarked.

In the weeks since Beyond the Breaking Point was published, Wolfensohn discussed the impact the report has had in increasing conversations between donors, governments, and humanitarian organizations. “The discussions generated by the report are helping to reinforce broader humanitarian reform agendas focused on localization, equitable partnerships and the meaningful participation of affected communities,” Wolfensohn said. However, she stopped short of claiming progress at the scale required to reverse the trends documented in the course, but “it should serve as a catalyst for action.”

UN organizations are already working in collaboration to close the funding gaps WLOs face in Sudan. According to Falcione, the approach is not only about advocacy, but also about working with WLOs “as genuine partners in the response.” Agencies like UNFPA and UN Women “support local and grassroots organizations in capacity development, institutional strengthening, leadership, and empowerment.” Falcione underscored the importance of strengthening the partnership, as WLOs “are not simply beneficiaries or implementing partners, they are essential actors in the humanitarian response.”

Over the course of fifteen months, UN Women’s reports have painted a picture from warning to confirming what happens when WLOs disappear. In Wolfensohn’s own framing, what comes next depends on measurement and follow-through. This requires donors publicly tracking what funds reach WLOs, and commitment to multi-year flexible financing. Recognition alone will not solve the problem, and supporting WLOs is the difference between a third report that documents reversals of these trends or repeats the same warnings.

IPS UN Bureau

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A poster depicting Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu as wanted by the International Criminal Court is displayed in a corridor of the European Parliament in Brussels, June 2026. Credit: Frédéric Pétry/HansLucas via AFP

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Aug 17 2026 (IPS)

In a recent Wall Street Journal piece, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio pledged to ‘dismantle’ the International Criminal Court (ICC). The Trump administration intends to pressure states into quitting the court, threatening sanctions, travel bans, visa restrictions and ‘increased scrutiny’ of states that receive its funding. At stake is the court’s ability to stand with victims of the gravest of human rights crimes.

Challenging impunity

Established in 2002 following years of civil society advocacy, the ICC prosecutes atrocities, including crimes against humanity, genocide and war crimes, when national or regional courts can’t or won’t. It prosecutes individuals, and national leaders enjoy no immunity. It has secured several convictions, including of warlords from the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Mali and Rwanda. Among ongoing cases, former Philippines president Rodrigo Duterte awaits trial on crimes against humanity charges. Civil society plays a key role in collecting evidence. Filipino women-led groups, for example, have documented thousands of extrajudicial killings.

The court has 125 members, but the USA is among several powerful states, including China, India, Israel and Russia, that have never joined. US hostility intensified in 2020, when the ICC opened an investigation into crimes against humanity and war crimes in Afghanistan, including those committed by US forces.

A current US campaign could merit the court’s attention. In the Caribbean Sea and eastern Pacific Ocean, the US military is bombing boats it claims are being used by drug cartels to smuggle fentanyl and other illicit substances. It started the strikes as a way of building pressure on then Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro, but has continued after US forces invaded Venezuela and abducted him, now seemingly with the purpose of communicating US strength and contempt for international rules.

US forces have killed over 200 people. All are civilians, leaving little doubt the strikes are illegal under international law. Last October, a group of UN human rights experts concluded that the strikes amount to extrajudicial executions. UN human rights chief Volker Türk called for an investigation, saying he believed the campaign violated international law. The USA responded by lining up with Israel, North Korea and Russia to oppose Türk’s second term.

The victims include nationals of Colombia, St Lucia and Trinidad and Tobago, all ICC members. The ICC could investigate any strikes carried out in member states’ territorial waters or against vessels registered with them.

Defending Netanyahu

Donald Trump is also determined to defend his prize ally, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. He’s said as much, undermining Rubio’s lofty rhetoric about sovereignty. In November 2024, the ICC issued arrest warrants for crimes against humanity and war crimes against Netanyahu, former defence minister Yoav Gallant and Hamas commander Mohammed Deif, later confirmed to have been killed by Israel. Israel doesn’t recognise the court, but the warrants stand because Palestine does.

Netanyahu’s warrant is back in the headlines because he’s due to visit New York for the annual high-level opening of the UN General Assembly in September. Mayor Zohran Mamdani has called for his arrest, but the Trump administration has confirmed it will ignore the warrant. This may have fuelled the latest offensive, which goes further than the Trump administration’s 2025 decision to impose sanctions on nine ICC judges and officials. Early in his second presidency, Trump issued an executive order that declared a ‘national emergency’, arguing the court was a threat to the USA and Israel, and pledging sanctions against anyone who takes part in its investigations. The order was used to impose sanctions on Francesca Albanese, the UN Special Rapporteur on the Occupied Palestinian Territories.

Fearing criminalisation, US-based organisations may feel pressured to end cooperation with the ICC. Last year, two US-based civil society organisations pulled out of the ICC’s annual meeting. Civil society is however fighting back. In July, two US groups filed a lawsuit against the Trump administration, arguing the sanctions violate constitutional free speech protections.

International system under attack

The Trump administration’s attack on the ICC is part of its broader assault on the international system, and particularly its human rights functions. It’s withdrawing from some bodies, defunding others, trying to bend others to its will, forming alternatives it controls, such as the Board of Peace, and showing outright hostility towards those seen to stand in its way.

The USA isn’t the only one. Three military-run Sahel allies – Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger – have begun their withdrawal from the ICC, a process that takes a year. They previously quit the Economic Community of West African States, including its Community Court of Justice, leaving victims of human rights atrocities amid jihadist insurgency with no international routes to justice.

Venezuela set the same course under Maduro. Last December, parliament voted to repeal the law ratifying the Rome Statute, the treaty through which states accept the court’s jurisdiction. That path hasn’t changed under US-compliant Interim President Delcy Rodriguez, whose government recently declared its withdrawal ‘irrevocable’. The US government has welcomed the decision, which will deny justice both to victims of Maduro’s repression and the families of Venezuelans killed in boat strikes.

Others have rallied to the court’s defence. A European Union spokesperson said the bloc ‘stands firm’ behind it. Hungary, which under right-wing nationalist Viktor Orbán had committed to pulling out, reversed that decision under its new government.

Time to rally round

The court faces this onslaught while leaderless. On 24 July, member states voted to remove chief prosecutor Karim Khan following disciplinary proceedings triggered by a sexual abuse complaint from a former staff member. It’s vital that his replacement be a strong and independent leader who can continue the court’s work.

The ICC is under attack by the Trump administration because of its promise to hold the powerful to account. Its member states must defend the principle that no one is above the law by refusing to bow to US pressure.

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

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

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CIVICUS discusses the challenges posed by Paraguay’s ‘anti-NGO law’ with Hugo González, executive director of the Paraguayan Network of LGBTQ+ Artists (REPAR+), a civil society organisation (CSO) that promotes the rights of LGBTQI+ people, which has joined the constitutional challenge against this law.

Hugo González

What are the problems with Law 7363?

The law was enacted in November 2024, and its regulations came into force in October 2025. It applies to CSOs that receive or manage private or public funds from national or international sources and use those funds to influence public policy or state activities. The regulatory decree defines influence broadly, including reports, press releases and other forms of public expression.

The law establishes a public register administered by the Ministry of Economy and Finance and requires balance sheets, minutes, supporting documents and annual reports on programmes, beneficiaries, professionals, staff and affiliated entities. It also prohibits reference to donor confidentiality to circumvent these controls and provides for sanctions ranging from a formal warning to suspension and deregistration.

Civil society doesn’t oppose transparency. We were already complying with civil, labour, tax and anti-money laundering obligations, so this law was unnecessary. We call it the ‘big stick law’ because it duplicates controls, uses broad definitions and turns public advocacy into a risk factor that triggers extraordinary scrutiny for punitive purposes.

In what political context was the law passed?

The bill was passed thanks to the majority held by the ruling Colorado Party. The process moved forward against a backdrop of stigmatisation of CSOs, human rights activists and journalists, and coincided with the work of a congressional committee that framed CSO funding within a narrative centred on money laundering.

The law also reflected the convergence between parts of the ruling coalition and conservative religious networks. Among its main proponents were legislators such as Gustavo Leite and Lizarella Valiente, who have also participated in activities and initiatives linked to evangelical organisations. While this doesn’t prove that these organisations drafted or funded the law, it does highlight an asymmetry in access and scrutiny between groups that influence public policy.

The law treats different groups that influence the same policies very differently. It imposes extensive controls on CSOs but expressly exempts churches and religious groups.

What impact is the new law having?

The impact began even before the first sanctions were imposed. Ever since the Ministry of Economy and Finance launched the registration portal, CSOs have had to devote time, money and staff to complying with the new accounting, administrative and legal requirements. For small organisations or those run by volunteers, this means that a large proportion of their resources is no longer being channelled into activities, assistance, research or support services.

Uncertainty is also a factor. Although sanctions are not yet being applied on a large scale, the law is having a deterrent effect. Donors, organisations and supporters fear the consequences of getting involved or advocating for causes.

The obligation to provide detailed information on beneficiaries and supporters poses privacy risks, particularly in small communities and among vulnerable groups. The safety of these people depends on who has access to the information, for what purpose and with what effective safeguards.

What obstacles do LGBTQI+ organisations face, and how does the new law exacerbate them?

In Paraguay, gender and diversity organisations operate in a context of structural discrimination, characterised by hate speech, exclusion from education and the labour market, barriers to accessing healthcare and difficulties in reporting violence. Added to this is the lack of a comprehensive anti-discrimination law, legal recognition for same-sex couples and accessible administrative procedures for the recognition of gender identity. All this leaves LGBTQI+ people in a particularly vulnerable situation.

Law 7363 exacerbates these difficulties, as it imposes broad and unclear requirements on CSOs that defend these rights. REPAR+’s artistic activities can be regarded as advocacy, culture and support all at once. The vagueness of the law, combined with discretionary powers and the threat of suspension, makes it impossible to predict how these activities will be classified, and could stifle critical voices before any sanction is imposed.

How has civil society mobilised to challenge the law at the Supreme Court?

The response has combined dialogue, international appeals, litigation and technical analysis. Since December, CSOs working on community development, culture, the environment and human rights, as well as rural communities, have filed constitutional challenges against the law and its implementing decree. REPAR+ has joined the effort because we believe freedoms of association and expression are essential for organisations that support LGBTQI+ people, denounce discrimination and engage in public policy.

We hope that the Constitutional Chamber of the Supreme Court will examine these challenges independently and urgently, in the light of the Constitution, the American Convention on Human Rights and the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. A favourable ruling would directly protect the organisations bringing the challenges and establish an important precedent. We don’t seek to be exempt from accountability. We seek to prevent a regulatory process from becoming a form of political surveillance, exposing vulnerable people or serving as punishment for dissent.

What action is needed in and outside Paraguay to reverse these restrictions?

Within Paraguay, the court must rule urgently and prevent irreparable harm while it considers the merits of the case. However, a lasting solution requires Congress and the executive to repeal or comprehensively modify the law, through a pluralistic consultation process. Any regulation should be precise, avoid duplicate registrations and protect beneficiaries, donors, victims and workers. Intrusive requests should be subject to independent scrutiny and sanctions should be limited to what is strictly necessary and proportionate. These criteria should apply equally to anyone who manages public funds or influences policy, including religious organisations.

The international community could continue to monitor the situation at the United Nations, particularly through the Human Rights Council Universal Periodic Review process, and at the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights. It can also take action through embassies and cooperation agencies. Donors should offer flexible support to cover accounting, legal, security and technological costs, rather than withdrawing out of fear of the new regime.

Paraguay also needs a comprehensive anti-discrimination law, effective recognition of gender identity and protection for human rights defenders and journalists.

We are not asking for external guardianship or privileges. We are calling for democratic solidarity to preserve a space where people can organise, question and propose ideas. Transparency should strengthen democracy, not expose vulnerable people or turn criticism of those in power into a cause for suspicion.

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.

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SEE ALSO
Paraguay: arbitrary detention of land rights defenders CIVICUS Monitor 24.Apr.2026
Cutting civil society’s lifeline: the global spread of foreign agents laws CIVICUS Lens | report 19.Oct.2025
Paraguay: ‘The new law’s purpose is to increase government control over civil society’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Marta Ferrara and Olga Caballero 25.Oct.2024

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Exiled Nicaraguans hold a national flag in the Church of San Francisco in San José, Costa Rica, at a service held on 19 April 2026 to commemorate the anniversary of protests in 2018. Credit: Ezequiel Becerra/AFP

By Inés M. Pousadela
MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay, Aug 12 2026 (IPS)

On 19 July, the 47th anniversary of the Sandinista revolution that first brought him to power, Nicaraguan President Daniel Ortega declared that his country would hold ‘no more elections’ so that the opposition could never again try to ‘seize power’. Just like that, he scrapped a presidential vote that had previously been pushed back to 2027, abandoning even the fiction of democratic legitimacy. The move changes little in practice, since no free vote had been possible for years. But it’s still revealing: a government that controls the army, the courts, the electoral machinery and the police, and will still not risk even a stage-managed ballot, is one that has lost confidence in its people.

Civil society dismantled

The abolition of elections is the political capstone of a longer-term project to eliminate every organised space beyond the ruling family’s control. A constitutional overhaul ratified in January 2025 extended Ortega’s term, elevated his wife, Rosario Murillo, from vice-president to ‘co-president’, and handed the couple control over every branch of the state, with their son, Laureano Ortega Murillo, positioned as monarchical heir apparent. Scrapping elections that had already been emptied of any meaning removes the last formal mechanism through which power in Nicaragua might, however unlikely, have changed hands.

Since 2018, the government has shut down over 5,500 civil society organisations, close to 80 per cent of what existed. Its net has encompassed trade unions, women’s groups, universities, independent media and religious bodies, with the Catholic Church a particular target. The legal profession is the latest victim. In early July, some 2,000 lawyers found their licences to practise revoked overnight, without notice or appeal, effectively leaving many Nicaraguans without legal defence.

The Group of Human Rights Experts on Nicaragua, mandated by the UN Human Rights Council, has concluded that the government has weaponised every arm of the state and its abuses amount to crimes against humanity committed as deliberate policy. It has documented chains of command linking the presidency to local officials, and named 54 officials responsible for the repression.

Repression beyond borders

Persecution has forced over 935,000 people, roughly one in eight Nicaraguans, into exile since mass protests in 2018, which security forces suppressed by killing more than 300 people. But exile offers no safety. A 2025 report by the Group of Human Rights Experts shows the regime runs an extensive transnational intelligence and surveillance network using the army, police, foreign service and informal agents to track critics abroad, monitor their communications and threaten their families back home.

For a growing number, surveillance leads to violence. In June 2025, Roberto Samcam, a retired army major turned prominent critic, was shot dead at his home in Costa Rica by an assassin posing as a delivery driver. He was one of at least four exiled opposition figures killed in Central America since 2022. Many more have survived attempts on their lives.

The regime has also stripped hundreds of critics of their nationality, including 222 political prisoners it expelled to the USA in 2023 and 135 it shipped to Guatemala in 2024, and made changes to the Penal Code to prosecute ‘crimes against the state’ committed abroad.

Aware that international bodies offer a route to accountability, the regime is moving to close it off. Having quit the Organization of American States in 2023, Nicaragua withdrew from the UN Human Rights Council and four other multilateral bodies in 2025. Yet some mechanisms do not need its consent. Two months after the government announced it was quitting, the Human Rights Council renewed the Group of Experts’ mandate for a further two years. An Argentine judge, acting under universal jurisdiction, has issued arrest warrants for Ortega, Murillo and other senior officials. The legal instruments exist, but the will to use them is often missing.

Democratic states have supplied little of that will. The USA does not recognise Ortega’s government, yet in September 2025 the Trump administration terminated Temporary Protected Status for Nicaraguans, asserting that the country was now safe for their return, a claim at odds with UN findings. This left thousands exposed to deportation.

Ortega has meanwhile leaned on autocratic friends, with China now his main source of funding and Russia supplying intelligence and security advice and training.

Long-term pressure needed

Ortega will have watched Venezuela closely. In 2024, Nicolás Maduro allowed the holding of an election he was sure he had won in advance, having stopped the main opposition candidate standing, only to see a little-known substitute become the catalyst for years of pent-up discontent. Scrapping elections spares Ortega that danger, at least in the short term.

Over the long term, pressure for the restoration of democracy will depend on the endurance of Nicaraguan civil society, at home and in exile, and on democratic states being willing to hold the regime to account. Neither can be taken for granted. The movement best able to sustain the fight has been driven abroad, where it also faces persecution, and the government best placed to shelter these exiles is busy sending them back home.

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

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Children play outside their home at a shelter in the Philippines. Credit: UNICEF/Joshua Estey

By Oritro Karim
UNITED NATIONS, Aug 12 2026 (IPS)

On July 7, the United Nations (UN) Secretary-General Antonio Guterres presented a report from the Special Rapporteur on the sale, sexual exploitation, and sexual abuse of children, Ai Kihara-Hunt, to the General Assembly, underscoring her goals and priorities for the implementation of protection measures for children worldwide.

The report, submitted in coordination with the Human Rights Council, highlights the systemic barriers that leave children increasingly vulnerable to sexual exploitation and abuse, including weak government oversight, limited support and justice services for victims, and worsening protracted crises.

“Given the complexity, hidden and transnational nature of the sale, sexual exploitation and sexual abuse of children, the Special Rapporteur believes that robust child protection systems and effective cooperation within each State and across borders are essential to combat the phenomena,” the report reads. “Addressing the sale, sexual exploitation and sexual abuse of children requires a human rights-based approach grounded in the best interests of the child and informed by the dignity, agency and resilience of children.”

Drawing largely from contributions by UN member states, international agencies, civil society groups, and humanitarian organizations, the report outlines key mechanisms for cooperation, accountability, and the prevention of human rights violations against children. The report incorporates global perspectives from diverse stakeholders and the lived experiences of survivors, prioritizing protection, recovery, rehabilitation, and access to justice through frameworks that are gender-responsive, disability-inclusive, victim-centered, trauma-informed, and fundamentally grounded in children’s rights.

This follows the 61st session of the Human Rights Council on March 10, where former Special Rapporteur Mama Fatima Singhateh warned that emerging digital technologies are revolutionizing how perpetrators commit abuse and rendering online spaces increasingly dangerous for children. Singhateh urged closer cooperation between humanitarian actors, governments, and stakeholders to prevent digital advancements from creating “new pathways” for human rights violations.

Singhateh also issued a child-friendly version of her final report to the Human Rights Council on April 20, emphasizing the importance of accessibility so that children can engage meaningfully in the discussions that affect them most. Moving forward, Kihara-Hunt aims to build upon her predecessors’ work by addressing issues that have not received adequate attention or sustained engagement from the UN. Key priorities include the “complex or rapidly evolving” challenges linked with intersecting global crises and the alarming rise of sexual exploitation across digital contexts.

The Special Rapporteur notes that online spaces allow children to express consent and agreement based on their evolving capacities, which may grow increasingly complex amid the introduction of emerging technologies. The rise of artificial intelligence has been a major concern for humanitarian organizations as these technologies have streamlined the production and dissemination of harmful child material, as well as the collection of unauthorized images and the misuse of personal data.

Additionally, the report highlights how digital technologies—such as social media platforms, messaging applications, and cryptocurrencies—have streamlined recruitment into armed groups and trafficking and exploitation, while simultaneously helping perpetrators evade law enforcement.

“Child sexual exploitation and abuse are driven by a range of factors, including harmful social norms, stigma, gender inequality, power imbalances, poverty, and weaknesses in child protection and support systems,” Afrooz Kaviani Johnson, UNICEF Child Protection Specialist, tells Inter Press Service. “Today, the digital environment is increasingly implicated in these harms. Children face risks such as grooming, coercion, sexual exploitation, and abuse facilitated through digital platforms. Emerging technologies, including generative AI, are also expanding the scale and severity of risks.”

A core pillar of Kihara-Hunt’s mandate is to urge the private sector to adopt stricter safety policies rooted in human rights and children’s privacy—a responsibility that extends across organizations, from employees and volunteers to business partners. The report notes that market incentives and commercialization and profit-driven systems will be monitored in the ways they may or may not be contributing to a harmful environment that facilitates the sexual exploitation of children, particularly online.

“A safety-by-design approach involves assessing and mitigating foreseeable risks that platforms, messaging services, gaming environments or artificial intelligence systems may facilitate the sale of children, child sexual exploitation and abuse, and to actively detect, report and remove child sexual abuse materials,” the report states. “Beyond these responsibilities, the Special Rapporteur intends to examine how business actors can play proactive roles, in collaboration with States and other relevant stakeholders, in prevention, safeguarding, reporting and support for children.”

The report also noted that children residing in areas affected by armed conflict and humanitarian crises face heightened risks of sale and sexual exploitation, leaving them roughly twice as likely to experience rape and sexual assault during childhood compared to the global average. Other related drivers of sexual exploitation include forced displacement, natural disasters, and climate change. In these contexts, humanitarian aid is significantly limited, which often leads to constraints on protection measures and civil society intervention.

“Humanitarian crises such as conflict, displacement, climate-related shocks, and public health emergencies can disrupt the systems that help keep children safe,” said Johnson. “They can increase children’s exposure to risk while reducing access to essential services and support.”

“Poverty and financial hardship can also increase vulnerability, particularly in situations where exploitation involves an exchange of money, goods, or other benefits. Children who are displaced, on the move, living with disabilities, or affected by humanitarian crises often face multiple and overlapping risks.”

Economic instability and inequality also serve as primary drivers of child sexual exploitation. According to the report, children who are “outside the formal protection networks”—such as those experiencing statelessness—frequently are the victims of abuse from adults, peers, and in some instances, even law enforcement officials. Displaced children are similarly vulnerable, often barred from reporting crimes out of fear of detention or deportation. Without official identity documentation to access support services, and frequently separated from family members, stateless and migrant children face reduced adult supervision, which drastically increases vulnerability.

To build on her predecessors’ initiatives, Kihara-Hunt intends to prioritize youth participation and develop a mandate that empowers children. She aims to urge governments, tech companies, and stakeholders to build safer online spaces. Furthermore, Kihara-Hunt is committed to pressing for stronger cooperation between sectors, particularly within public health and education.

“The role of the public health sector in the rehabilitation of child victims and survivors extends beyond recovery and reintegration and includes promoting a shift from a criminal justice response towards one centered on the health and well-being of the child. Meanwhile, the education sector contributes across all stages of prevention, protection and response, as further elaborated on below.”

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Peter George attaching the solar lights and panels on the plastic design bags. Credit: Madina Kula Sheriff/IPS

By Madina Kula Sheriff
FREETOWN, Aug 10 2026 (IPS)

Growing up, Peter George, a young innovator in Bo District in Southern Region, Sierra Leone, watched people dump electronic waste near the farmland where his grandmother cultivated crops.

He told IPS that people would dump electronic waste, such as discarded batteries and other damaged electronic components, near the area where she grew crops, and the chemicals from the waste affected the crops and reduced yields.

But that experience triggered his curiosity and fascination with how electronic devices worked and led him to use e-waste to create solar lamps for students.

“We started using some of the electronic waste to develop solar lamps. These lamps helped students study at night, and we also donated some to other children,” George said.

However, George’s innovation shifted from solar lamps to recycling plastics to make backpacks as plastic pollution worsened in Bo.

“Many people often think plastic pollution is only a problem in Freetown, but the issue is also very serious in provincial cities like Bo. During the rainy season, the roads become flooded because water cannot flow properly in drains due to blockage by plastic waste. This disrupted our school and displaced people,” George said.

George later founded Ideal Technologies in 2018, a youth-led enterprise operating in Bo District that transforms plastic and electronic waste into solar-powered backpacks and lighting systems for school children.

Through his initiative, George believes he is tackling the problem of e-waste and plastic pollution in Sierra Leone, which has become a serious challenge.

The World Bank estimates that Sierra Leone generates about 130,000 tonnes of plastic waste each year, much of it from single-use plastic bottles, water sachets and plastic bags that pollute the country’s coastline and harm marine life. Globally, electronic waste is also rising rapidly.

The Global E-waste Monitor 2024 says the world generated 62 million tonnes of e-waste in 2022, but less than 22.3 percent was formally collected and recycled.

Authorities say plastic pollution has become a growing threat to Sierra Leone’s coastal ecosystems and tourism industry.

Yet, despite the scale of the challenge, Sierra Leone’s plastic waste management policy is still under development.

“I looked at everything happening around me and started thinking about how to solve the challenge of poor access to electricity, e-waste pollution and plastic pollution. I started developing solar-powered backpacks made from recycled plastic and e-waste.

“During the day, the backpacks are carried like ordinary school bags. At night the attached solar-powered lighting allows children in communities with limited electricity to continue studying after sunset,” George told IPS.

For him, innovation represents more than recycling. He says it is about changing the way people think about waste.

“Things that people saw as waste, I saw as solutions,” said Peter.

Turning Discarded Plastic into Livelihoods

Like George, Manty Sulman Beckley in Freetown, the capital of Sierra Leone, refuses to see plastic as the end of a product’s life. Instead, she recycles waste into everyday items that she sells for a living.

For the past five years, Beckley has transformed single-use plastics into shopping bags, handbags, baskets, chairs, tables and bricks.

The climate activist and founder of the Beckma Empowerment Initiative said her passion for recycling began during childhood, watching her aunt repair and make household furniture. Inspired, she started fixing broken chairs at home.

“As a teenager, I started thinking about how to repair broken chairs around me. Gradually my passion for creating things grew, and as an adult, the passion developed into a plastic recycling initiative after I witnessed how plastic waste was destroying communities across Freetown,” she said.

To source materials, Beckley works with households and young waste collectors in her community.

Despite these efforts, she said securing enough recyclable material remains difficult.

“In my house and surrounding communities, I advocate against throwing plastic waste carelessly. I provide bags for households to collect their plastic waste, which I later gather for recycling.

“Even fifty full rice bags of single-use plastic are not enough to create items like bricks, baskets, and other products, meaning we constantly need to collect more,” she said.

Setbacks

These innovators believe recycling offers an opportunity to give waste a second life, but they say limited financial support and a lack of equipment continue to hinder progress.

For George, the lack of equipment for large-scale production is the key challenge.

“One of our greatest challenges is having the right tools and equipment. If there is greater investment in recycling, especially for young people, it could significantly change the story of single-use plastics, providing income for waste collectors and recyclers,” he told IPS.

But beyond this, Beckley said being a woman in the recycling and innovation space also comes with unique challenges.

“There are people who call asking for products or services, but once they realise a woman is behind the work, they begin to doubt my ability. Some openly say they would rather work with a man,” she said. “I usually tell them that everything posted on my page is work that I have personally done.”

Impact

Over the past two years, George said Ideal Technologies has expanded its work, particularly among schoolchildren in underserved communities. In 2024, his innovation was recognised through the Youth-Led Innovation Challenge, organised by the UNDP and the Environment Protection Agency Sierra Leone, where he was the winner.

The recognition brought financial support that allowed the initiative to reach more communities.

“Through grants from this and other initiatives, we have supported more than 400 school children in rural communities. This does not include people we have supplied products to through partnerships or buyers overseas,” George said.

For Beckley, she measures the rewards of recycling differently and urges greater government support for youth-led recycling initiatives.

“This is my main source of income, and I have also created job opportunities for people who have learnt from me. Some of them now continue making bags and other recycled products on their own,” she said.

IPS UN Bureau Report

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CIVICUS discusses India’s Cockroach Janta Party movement with Harshit Singh, a young activist, poet and storyteller who took part in protests in Delhi.

Harshit Singh

What’s the Cockroach Janta Party, and how did it start?

On 15 May, the Chief Justice of India said that young people who couldn’t find a job and turned to media, social media and activism to attack the system were like cockroaches. He corrected himself the following day, saying he had meant only those entering the legal profession with fake degrees, but it was too late. Everybody felt hurt and frustrated.

Abhijeet Dipke, a young Indian, posted a tweet asking what would happen if all the cockroaches came together. Within 24 hours he had set up an Instagram page, a website and a manifesto that said that if you were lazy, unemployed and had time on your hands, you qualified as a cockroach. The name, Cockroach Janta Party, was a parody of the ruling party. The response was enormous. Artists and creators began promoting the platform, and within weeks over 20 million people were following it.

It grew that fast because the frustration was already there. Two weeks before Surya Kant spoke, the question paper for the national medical entrance exam leaked in advance, and the exam was cancelled for over two million students who had spent years preparing. At least 21 students died by suicide; every morning we woke up to news of another death. And this was not an isolated case. Every other day we hear about another exam paper leaking somewhere.

The Cockroach Janta Party gave young people somewhere to channel their frustration with the education system and unemployment. It gave us hope and a chance to demand a better education system, one that isn’t privatised and doesn’t cost so much that only privileged people get a good education.

But education is just the baseline. Beyond it, this is a movement that brings together everyone who has been neglected and not listened to for years, so they can express their frustration and ask for change. What started as satire became a national movement that nobody, not even the person who started it, expected.

Would you call this a Gen Z movement?

It was organised by Gen Z, and most of us in it are, but it’s not only that. I have seen every generation at the protest. People of different castes, gender identities and religions have come together under one umbrella to ask for their rights. At the end of the day, we are all Indians, and every issue this country is going through is our issue.

There is no criterion for joining and no enrolment process. If you think something is wrong, or that your basic rights are not being respected, that is the moment you support the movement, however you can. Come to the protest, talk about it online or in print, and be a voice where you are.

What struck me most is how many people came who didn’t support Abhijeet or disagreed with something a spokesperson had said. Some didn’t even like that we call ourselves cockroaches. They came anyway, because the movement is bigger than any person in it and because after a long time we have a platform where we can speak out loud, with other people standing next to us. That’s why it grew so fast.

What role has social media played?

Social media has played a central role. The movement started online and the vast majority of what it has achieved rests on that. Nobody expected it to come onto the ground and organise protests at this scale.

The reason it mattered this much is that the media here is compromised. If you say anything against the government, mainstream television and print media will not carry it. There was a protest in the heart of the capital for weeks and you wouldn’t find a single headline about it in the newspapers or magazines.

But when you are on the ground with your phone, taking photos and videos, you become your own media. And everyone was using their platforms. It didn’t matter whether someone had 10 followers or 5,000, each person was reaching the audience they had. In the end, mainstream media just reaches a limited number of people, but social media reaches everyone.

The turning point was when artists and creators started speaking. I hesitated at first. My livelihood is social media and ticket revenue, so I doubted what would happen to my future if I spoke against the government. I feared my accounts would be taken down. But I couldn’t deny what was happening, so I spoke out, and many other artists did too.

How has the government responded?

The government has responded very negatively. People who question the government, protest against it or ask for their rights get labelled as anti-national or terrorists. There’s no second thought about it. When I was a child, those were heavy words. Watching this government make them ordinary and using them against us was frightening.

For seven weeks we were at Jantar Mantar, the designated protest site in central Delhi. The Prime Minister’s Office, the President’s house and every ministry are within a five-kilometre radius. Still, not official came to meet us. What they did instead was try to dilute the protest by dividing us with anything they could find. They mocked queer people and spread hatred between Hindus and Muslims, but the unity held and we stood together.

On 20 July, we marched from Jantar Mantar to parliament. Delhi hadn’t seen a peaceful protest this massive in about 15 years. Thousands of people, including children, teenagers and grandparents, were on the streets asking for their basic rights. We were carrying flowers, banners and posters, and chanting slogans.

But the security forces met us with repression and violence. They used pellet guns, teargas and batons against anyone, even if they were just standing nearby. There’s a girl who’s still in intensive care on a ventilator.

The way the police handled the protests was illegal and unconstitutional. At that moment a lot of people in India realised something was badly wrong, and support for our movement grew massively across the country. Cities, districts and small towns started protests in solidarity. That is when the government understood it had to listen.

What has the movement achieved?

Our non-negotiable demand was the resignation of Dharmendra Pradhan and action against everyone involved in the scam. Pradhan stepped down, and we are glad he did, but it shouldn’t have taken this long or this much violence. He even framed it as a way to stop the protests and prevent terrorist activity, not as an admission that anything had gone wrong. Accountability is still missing.

Our other two demands are still unmet. We asked for compensation of 10 million rupees (approx. US$115,000) for every family that lost a child to suicide. Those families haven’t received anything, not even an apology.

We also asked that nobody who took part in the protests face legal action. Instead, the police have spent the past days tracing protesters and opening cases against them. There’s a lot of rage about it, and Abhijeet and others have said we may have to protest again.

What support does the movement need now?

What we most need is for people to stop being afraid. Protesting here is almost a taboo, because people expect repercussions and stay away, which makes organising anything at all difficult.

That fear is not irrational. This government controls the security forces, the Central Bureau of Investigation and the Enforcement Directorate, and it can do whatever it wants with them, as we saw on the streets. The courts will not stop it either, because the judiciary is compromised in the same way the media is.

But if something is wrong, it is fine to ask the government why. They are here to serve us. All we are asking for is to be able to protest peacefully in what is supposed to be the world’s largest democracy.

We need young people in this country to keep showing up and artists to stop being silent, because if the mainstream media will not speak out, art must become the mode of resistance. Support from abroad matters too. When people elsewhere talk about our movement, it creates pressure on the government. And we must hold on to what we know – our rights and our intentions – because diluting the agenda is what the government will try next.

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.

India has recently been added to the CIVICUS Monitor Watchlist, which identifies countries where a severe deterioration in the quality of civic space is taking place.

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Gen Z protests: new resistance rises CIVICUS | 2026 State of Civil Society Report
India: ‘When civil society is constrained, it cannot challenge power or amplify excluded voices’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Devanshi Vaid and Smarinita Shetty 11.Dec.2025

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Burkina Faso’s junta leader Captain Ibrahim Traoré attends a meeting with Russian president Vladimir Putin in Moscow on 10 May 2025. Credit: Angelos Tzortzinis/AFP

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Aug 7 2026 (IPS)

Burkina Faso’s charismatic young military leader, army captain Ibrahim Traoré, has stopped pretending. In April, he declared that people should ‘forget about the question of democracy’ because ‘democracy isn’t for us’. When Traoré seized power in September 2022, ousting a leader who’d staged a coup earlier that year, he promised elections by June 2024. The junta broke that pledge, pushing any transition back to 2029. Now Traoré has confirmed he has no intention of restoring democracy. Instead, Burkina Faso’s military junta is tightening its repression, while working with neighbouring states to internationalise its dangerously undemocratic model.

Crackdown intensifies

Repression has unfolded in a context of jihadist insurgency. Frustration with the democratically elected government’s security failures helped fuel the conditions that led to military rule, but the army hasn’t turned things around. The insurgency has grown, and civilians are paying the price. All sides are accused of crimes against humanity and war crimes, and since the coup, there’s evidence that Burkina Faso’s armed forces and allied militias have increasingly targeted civilians, particularly members of the Fulani ethnic group.

A military seen to be failing against the insurgency and killing civilians would lose any claims to legitimacy. That makes the junta determined to control the narrative, silence dissent and crush any perceived challenge to its power.

Traoré backs his anti-democratic rhetoric with actions. In January, the government dissolved all political parties, claiming they sowed division and weakened the social fabric. The junta is also targeting civil society organisations (CSOs). In recent months, authorities have suspended over a thousand organisations. In April, the government dissolved 118 CSOs, citing non-compliance with a July 2025 law that imposed strict and onerous registration, compliance and reporting requirements. The law supposedly gave CSOs a year to comply, but the government dissolved them before the deadline expired. It targeted human rights organisations such as the African Meeting for the Defence of Human Rights, the Burkinabè Coalition for Women’s Rights and Christian Action for the Abolition of Torture.

Religious associations and student groups have fared little better. Association As Salam and the Coordination of Young Muslims of Burkina have no explicit human rights focus, but authorities have suspended both for alleged public disorder and activities said to fall outside their stated purpose. In May, the government suspended the General Student Union of Burkina Faso, the country’s biggest student group, after it issued a statement criticising the government’s security record, which the government claimed glorified terrorism.

Authorities have suspended several media outlets, typically over their reporting on the security situation. In May, the state media regulator indefinitely suspended French TV channel TV5 Monde, accusing it of siding with terrorist groups.

Anybody who speaks out risks arrest, detention, enforced disappearance, forced conscription into the armed forces and torture. Burkina Faso’s LGBTQI+ people are particularly exposed, since in 2025 the junta criminalised same-sex relations, with jail sentences of up to five years. The government has also granted itself the power to strip citizenship from anyone deemed to be acting against the national interest. Last December, repression took an even more ominous turn when the junta announced its intention to reinstate the death penalty.

Due to these actions, Burkina Faso has recently been added to the CIVICUS Monitor Watchlist, which identifies countries where a severe deterioration in the quality of civic space is taking place.

Repressive alliance

Burkina Faso isn’t working alone. Under Traoré, it has forged close relations with two neighbouring military regimes, Mali and Niger. Together, they’re promoting a model that rejects democracy and international scrutiny. In January 2025, they completed their joint withdrawal from the key regional organisation, the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), a year after forming their rival Alliance of Sahel States. The move was clearly a response to ECOWAS pressure to restore civilian rule.

The three states have now formally begun the process to leave the International Criminal Court (ICC). They’ve denounced the court as a ‘tool of neocolonial oppression’ and promised to set up an alternative, although any body they create is unlikely to retain the ICC’s power to issue arrest warrants against sitting heads of state and other senior figures. For survivors of human rights atrocities, withdrawal from the ICC and the ECOWAS Community Court of Justice removes vital potential routes to justice.

In February, Burkina Faso suspended the UN Human Rights Office, which had operated in the country since 2019, in retaliation for a statement by UN human rights chief Volker Türk urging the junta to reverse its ban on political parties and open up civic space. The UN has now concluded it has no choice but to close its office.

These moves shield military leaders and security forces from external accountability. They’re part of a wider realignment that has seen Burkina Faso and its allies turn away from former colonial power France and other democratic states and towards Russia, a partner with no interest in human rights. Burkina Faso’s relations with Russia have extended beyond military cooperation to stronger economic ties. Last year the two countries signed a gold-mining deal.

Even as he rejects international scrutiny, Traoré has cultivated a global following. Through adept use of social media and a steady stream of disinformation, he casts himself as a pan-African leader in the mould of liberation-era icons such as Thomas Sankara, Burkina Faso’s revolutionary former president. His message taps into real anger about colonialism and the power imbalances in relations with western states.

But the people whose rights he tramples aren’t westerners. The civilians being slaughtered by the army and the activists and journalists being silenced are Burkinabe people. There’s nothing un-African about democratic freedoms, and nothing pan-African about a leader who denies them. African democracies have the most to lose if Traoré’s model spreads, and are the most able to challenge it. They should refuse to normalise his narrative and press him to restore fundamental freedoms, rebuild a path to democratic rule and recognise the value of international accountability.

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

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

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Action Against Hunger holds a commemoration event for the 17 staff members killed in Muttur, Sri Lanka on August 4th, 2006. Credit: Action Against Hunger

By Rotimy Djossaya
NAIROBI, Kenya, Aug 7 2026 (IPS)

This summer, an ambush on a marked humanitarian convoy in Duk County, South Sudan, left 17 dead and five injured. While the UN called for an immediate investigation, history suggests the victims’ families will wait indefinitely for answers.

We suspended field movements in the area pending a security review, which means communities already facing crisis levels of hunger lost access to life-saving assistance, at least temporarily.

The emblem on a vehicle or a vest once offered protection: a shared understanding, codified in international law, that those delivering food, water, medical care and other basic relief would not be targets of violence. That understanding is breaking down.

In the past three years, more than 1,000 humanitarian workers have been killed, most notably in Gaza, Sudan, South Sudan, and the Democratic Republic of Congo. Worryingly, 2024 was the worst year on record with 383 aid workers killed worldwide. That’s more than one each day.

This year, the recent ambush brought the toll to 29 in South Sudan alone — and it is only August. Roughly 90% of those attacked are local and national staff, the people furthest from headlines and closest to the danger.

Twenty years ago this month, seventeen of our colleagues were executed in our office in Muttur, Sri Lanka, wearing shirts that clearly identified them as humanitarian aid workers. It remains one of the deadliest attacks of its kind. Two decades later, despite evidence pointing to the likely responsibility of state security forces, no one has been held accountable. We are still calling for a new, independent investigation.

Rotimy Djossaya, Chief Impact Officer for Action Against Hunger

There is a framework for addressing this. In 2024, the UN Security Council passed Resolution 2730, which calls on States to respect and protect United Nations and humanitarian personnel in accordance with their obligations under international law. Last year saw the introduction of the Declaration for the Protection of Humanitarian Personnel, a commitment to uphold international humanitarian law, prevent attacks, and pursue accountability. Over 110 countries have signed on, from every region and political tradition. While the issue still generates broad agreement, it is increasingly polarized, and the declaration’s enforcement is weak.

When a marked humanitarian vehicle is attacked with impunity, the international laws designed to protect humanity become nothing more than abstract targets.

The recent cuts to international aid budgets make a challenging situation even harder. Although it’s not clear that recent funding cuts led directly to any violence, it’s evident that NGOs have far less money to spend on security response management. The 2025 Aid Worker Security Report documented what the funding collapse means for safety: organizations are cutting security positions, communications, and risk analysis, with the danger falling overwhelmingly on local organizations.

In principle, localization is smart, and the humanitarian reset is a chance to build a system that is locally led, globally supported, and more efficient. But it only works if resources move with the risk. Local NGOs are routinely excluded from security funding, training, and data-sharing. They are expected to work in the world’s most dangerous places without the protections international agencies take for granted. They face a difficult choice: abandon some of the people and places they serve or accept greater risk to the safety of their staff.

The aid workers this summer were traveling in a marked humanitarian convoy. Five of them were staff of our local partner, the John Dau Foundation, an organization founded by one of the “lost boys” of South Sudan, who fled unimaginable violence as a child and answered it by building clinics and feeding children in the very county where this attack took place. That people who devoted their lives to healing were met with this violence shows how badly protections for humanitarian workers have eroded. The markings on their vehicle were supposed to shield them, but they did not.

As we mark World Humanitarian Day on August 19 and approach the UN General Assembly in September, the global community and member states must act. They must mandate and fund security allocations directly for local partners, insist on independent investigations for harmed personnel, and enforce UN Security Council Resolution 2730. Commitments on paper only protect lives when perpetrators face consequences. Those who step into the crossfire to feed the world’s forgotten children should not have to pay for that humanity with their lives.

Together, let’s honor those who have served, stand with those who continue to serve, and act for humanity.

Rotimy Djossaya is, Chief Impact Officer at Action Against Hunger.

IPS UN Bureau

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CIVICUS speaks about China’s recently implemented Ethnic Unity Law with Gulchehra Hoja, a correspondent for Reporters Without Borders and a Uyghur activist and journalist known for her reporting on human rights abuses against Uyghur people in China.

Gulchehra Hoja

What does the new Ethnic Unity Law state?

This new law means there is one acceptable way to be Chinese and requires every part of society, not just the state, to work towards it. Culture, faith and language become things to be managed rather than rights to be protected.

But none of this is new. The law formalises practices that are already in place and turns repression into official state policy. For years the Chinese government has closed Uyghur-language schools, demolished mosques, imprisoned intellectuals, separated children from their families and sent more than a million Uyghurs and other Turkic peoples into detention camps. Ordinary expressions of Uyghur identity can attract suspicion.

Every government wants security and stability. The question is how those goals are pursued and who ends up defined as a threat. Under this law the answer is anyone whose identity does not fit. The Ethnic Unity Law strengthens Communist Party authority, not minority rights. It tells minorities that loyalty to the Communist Party matters more than their identity and that even the most ordinary parts of life are subject to state control.

Doesn’t China’s constitution protect minority languages and autonomy?

On paper, Article 4 guarantees all ethnic groups the right to use their own languages and preserve their cultures. But there is an enormous gap between what the law says and what happens.

I come from the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region. For Beijing, it is a strategic asset that connects China to Central Asia, holds vast natural resources and plays a central role in the country’s long-term economic and security ambitions. But for Uyghurs, it’s our home. It is where generations of our people have lived and built their lives.

The region is officially described as autonomous, but autonomy must include genuine local political participation, real cultural protection and the right to use and teach our language freely. Where those are missing, autonomy exists in name only.

Which communities does the law reach, and how is it enforced?

Uyghurs are the first victims, but we are certainly not the only ones. The law reaches Hong Kong activists, religious communities, Southern Mongolians and Tibetans. It can even be applied to Chinese citizens whose beliefs or identities just don’t fit the Communist Party’s vision. And because it applies beyond China’s territory, it reaches all of them wherever they live.

Paramilitary institutions, police, security agencies and universities work together, so every part of society is drawn into monitoring and reshaping people’s identities. Students from China’s National Security College, for example, were sent to East Turkistan to study governance centres, neighbourhood grid management, police stations and the Xinjiang Production and Construction Corps, the state-owned paramilitary body that runs its own cities, courts, police and prisons across the region. This was not an academic visit. It was training in how to put a population under surveillance.

What are the risks of speaking out?

I know them personally. In authoritarian systems, telling the truth can be treated as a crime. I was branded a terrorist not because I committed violence but because I practised journalism and dared to speak out. And it was not only me who paid for it. After I reported on what was happening in East Turkistan, 25 members of my family were detained.

I am not alone in this. The Chinese government fears independent reporting, and that is why it works so hard to control information. Foreign journalists have been expelled, local journalists imprisoned and many Uyghur journalists working for international media have seen relatives disappeared, imprisoned or sent to detention camps simply for continuing to report.

The new law gives Beijing further justification to present peaceful advocacy as a threat to national unity. It also sends a message to Uyghurs living in Canada, Europe, Latin America, Turkey and the USA: we are still watching you. That is what transnational repression means.

What should the international community do?

Governments should not judge this law by its title but by its consequences. They should continue documenting human rights abuses, expose China’s efforts to intimidate critics abroad, sanction the officials responsible for these policies and strengthen protections for Uyghur journalists and refugees. We’ll keep documenting these stories even when access is restricted, but we can’t do it alone.

This is not only about Uyghurs. It is about whether a government can erase a people’s culture, history, language and religion and call it unity. That question should concern everyone.

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.

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Transnational repression: ‘China feels emboldened to globalise its political red lines’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Barbora Bukovská 19.May.2026
China: ‘The state is using generative AI to engineer reality through informational gaslighting’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Fergus Ryan 12.Mar.2026
The long reach of authoritarianism CIVICUS Lens 20.Mar.2024

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Anti-FGM activists protests outside the National Assembly in Banjul, The Gambia, on 18 March 2024, as lawmakers discuss a bill seeking to lift the ban on FGM. Credit: by Muhamadou Bittaye/AFP

By Inés M. Pousadela
MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay, Aug 3 2026 (IPS)

Last August, a one-month-old girl in The Gambia bled to death after being subjected to female genital mutilation (FGM), a practice that had been illegal in the country since 2015. FGM is a human rights violation, whatever the appeals to faith or tradition made in its defence, but now the Gambian Supreme Court is being asked to strike the country’s ban down. This is the second attempt in two years to make FGM legal again.

Civil society stopped it the first time. When a repeal bill reached the National Assembly in 2024, the Network Against Gender-Based Violence brought survivors to testify, lobbied legislators, ran radio programmes and obtained a ruling from Cairo’s Al-Azhar University saying that FGM is not required under Islam. The bill fell in July 2024.

The ongoing fight in The Gambia is a measure of how fragile advances in the recognition of rights are. FGM is in retreat across most of the countries where it is practised, the result of decades of campaigning by survivors and community organisations. But holding that ground is becoming harder, as the money supporting those campaigns dries up and a resurgent anti-rights movement works to recast FGM as a traditional practice under foreign attack.

A practice in retreat

Over 230 million girls and women alive today have undergone FGM, with an additional four million cut every year. But the direction of travel has changed. A 2024 UNICEF report found that half of the decline in prevalence over the past 30 years has come in the last decade, with rates among adolescent girls halved or cut by 30-plus percentage points in countries including Ethiopia, Kenya and Sierra Leone. Attitudes have shifted too. Around 400 million people in practising countries, two-thirds of the population, now say they want FGM to end.

That change has a clear source. The Joint Programme run by UNICEF and the UN Population Fund found that the sharpest reductions come where communities are supported to deliberate and then commit, publicly and collectively, to abandoning the practice. The UN channels funding and provides coordination, but the dialogues, declarations and door-to-door persuasion are the work of community activists, national organisations and survivor networks. Thanks to these civil society efforts, in 2025 alone, over 7.5 million people took part in community dialogues and over 190,000 religious leaders and community influencers publicly denounced FGM.

The tools that work

Where campaigners have targeted the religious justifications that sustain FGM, results have followed. In 2025, Islamic scholars in Djibouti, Eritrea and Somalia issued a joint ruling saying that nothing in the faith requires FGM. Litigation has proved another powerful tool. In July 2025, the Court of Justice of the Economic Community of West African States found Sierra Leone in breach of its international obligations for failing to criminalise FGM, and said that, when intentionally inflicted, the practice meets the threshold of torture. In India, the Supreme Court has begun hearing whether cutting among the Dawoodi Bohra community should lose constitutional protection as an essential religious practice. And this June, Colombia became the first country in Latin America to ban FGM, driven by Emberá Indigenous women campaigning against a practice carried out in their own community.

Prohibition is now the norm rather than the exception, with Djibouti and Guinea writing bans into their constitutions in 2025. But laws alone don’t necessarily change what happens on the ground, and enforcement remains thin. Arrests and prosecutions rose sharply in 2025, yet there were still only 711 FGM court cases all year. In The Gambia, the fine imposed on the country’s first convicted cutters was paid by a prominent imam, an act that helped galvanise the campaign seeking to repeal the ban.

The movement’s defunding

The tactics that drove three decades of progress are now being starved of funding, with budget cuts falling hardest on the survivor-led and grassroots groups that are most effective but always face the toughest struggles for support. Funding for the Joint Programme fell from US$29.6 million in 2024 to US$16.3 million in 2025. The dismantling of USAID removed the largest single source of civil society funding worldwide, and total US foreign aid halved in a year. The UK, once the biggest funder of FGM prevention, is winding down its flagship programme with no replacement, so it can spend more on weapons.

The economics make no sense, because every dollar invested in prevention brings a tenfold return. The Joint Programme estimates that treating the health consequences of FGM currently costs US$1.4 billion a year. Politics, though, is playing a big part. In global north countries, political shifts are driving the withdrawal of aid, and far-right parties invoke FGM to stigmatise migrant communities while also opposing the gender justice policies that would make a difference. In practising countries, prohibition is increasingly recast as a foreign imposition on culture and faith. What unites these arguments is a shared sleight of hand that treats FGM as a question of cultural identity rather than a violation of fundamental human rights.

Elimination by 2030, the target that states set when they agreed the Sustainable Development Goals in 2015, is already out of reach. But the evidence on what works is not in dispute, and it points towards communities and grassroots movements. The question is whether governments that claim to value human rights will keep supporting those delivering progress, or let a generation of girls pay the price of retreat.

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

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Dominica's geothermal power plant. As Caribbean countries seek to reduce their dependence on imported fossil fuels, renewable energy remains a key pillar of the regional resilience agenda advanced by CARICOM leaders. Credit: Alison Kentish/IPS

By Alison Kentish
GROS ISLET, Saint Lucia , Aug 3 2026 (IPS)

From wars that drive up fuel prices to supply chain disruptions, inflation and increasingly frequent climate disasters, Caribbean leaders say many of the forces shaping the region’s future lie beyond their control.

Their response, however, is not resignation.

Instead, leaders of the Caribbean Community (CARICOM), the region’s largest economic grouping, are pursuing a strategy built on strengthening the systems they believe they can influence, hoping to make one of the world’s most climate-vulnerable regions more resilient to external shocks. These include food and energy security, transportation, healthcare, artificial intelligence and regional trade.

At their recent summit in Saint Lucia, the leaders argued that CARICOM must be judged less by declarations than by whether regional cooperation improves people’s daily lives.

“Our discussions have been guided by one central objective, ensuring that CARICOM delivers results that people can see and feel in their everyday lives,” CARICOM Chairman and Saint Lucia Prime Minister Philip J. Pierre said as he outlined the meeting’s outcomes.

“Heads of government focused on the issues that matter most to the people of the region.”

Those priorities included the rising cost of living, food security, affordable transportation, disaster resilience and the challenge of building stronger economies in an uncertain global environment.

Leaders acknowledged that inflation in food, fuel, freight and electricity has largely been driven by global conflicts, supply chain disruptions and commodity price shocks, which small island economies have little ability to influence. While several governments have introduced temporary measures to cushion households, they argued that lasting relief will require deeper regional cooperation on transportation, consumer protection and trade.

“We will work together,” said Barbados Prime Minister Mia Amor Mottley, who leads CARICOM’s work on the Caribbean Single Market and Economy. “None of us is omniscient, none of us has all the answers, and none of us are omnipotent as well.”

One of the summit’s most tangible initiatives was renewed work toward an affordable intra-regional ferry service, long viewed as critical to reducing freight costs, improving travel and strengthening food security. Leaders said the proposal would begin with a proof of concept using existing ferry capacity while governments harmonise regulations governing licensing, insurance and vehicle movement across borders.

The initiative complements CARICOM’s “25 by 2025 Plus Five” programme, which aims to reduce the region’s food import bill by expanding agricultural production and strengthening regional supply chains. Leaders argued that producing and transporting more food within the Caribbean would make the region less vulnerable to global disruptions.

Energy security emerged as another defining theme.

Prime Minister Terrance Drew of St Kitts and Nevis said that the Caribbean’s greatest vulnerability is not a lack of energy resources but its continued dependence on imported fossil fuels.

“We don’t have an energy issue,” Drew said. “We have an energy-harnessing issue.”

Pointing to the region’s abundant solar, geothermal, wind and wave resources, Drew said renewable energy offers perhaps the greatest long-term opportunity to stabilise Caribbean economies, reduce electricity costs and improve living standards.

“There’s nothing that can really stabilise our economy, or transform our economy, or deal with this constant up and down, like stabilising our energy sources,” he said.

Recognising that technological change will also reshape the region’s future, CARICOM agreed to establish a regional Blue Ribbon Commission on Artificial Intelligence. Leaders said the commission will develop regional guidance on AI, helping member states capitalise on its benefits while managing risks around jobs, privacy and ethics.

Climate resilience also remained central to the discussions.

Leaders reaffirmed their commitment to limiting global warming to 1.5 degrees Celsius while continuing to advocate internationally for the special circumstances of Small Island Developing States. They also advanced work on a regional insurance and reinsurance strategy aimed at improving financial protection for governments, businesses and households, as climate-related disasters become more frequent and more costly.

Historical justice remained firmly on the regional agenda. Leaders endorsed renewed efforts to advance CARICOM’s Ten-Point Plan for Reparatory Justice through closer engagement with the African Union, upcoming Commonwealth meetings and other international forums.

The agenda set in Gros Islet, Saint Lucia, has effectively set CARICOM’s agenda for the months ahead. From advancing ferry connectivity and renewable energy to strengthening food security, disaster resilience and artificial intelligence governance, the challenge now is implementation.

For Caribbean citizens, the measure of success will not be the number of declarations adopted but whether regional cooperation delivers tangible improvements in everyday life.

IPS UN Bureau Report

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CIVICUS discusses disinformation campaigns targeting the LGBTQI+ community in Armenia with Hripsime Kizogyan, Executive Director of Pink Armenia, a community-based organisation that defends the human rights of LGBTQI+ people and advocates for policy change.

Hripsime Kizogyan

What was the fake Pride campaign about?

In late January, online stories started appearing that claimed that Armenia’s first LGBTQI+ Pride march would take place in the capital, Yerevan, on 7 April, supported by our organisation and personally led by Nikol Pashinyan. The date was no accident, because 7 April is a religious holiday and Mother’s Day in Armenia.

None of it was true. The stories first appeared on a brand-new website that had been created only 11 days earlier. It used an AI-generated image of Pashinyan and disappeared shortly after. But the damage was done. Georgian and Turkish media outlets and dozens of Facebook and Twitter/X accounts had already picked up the story.

The same false campaign came back in April, this time amplified by pro-Kremlin Telegram channels and Russian outlets. It came with two new claims, both equally false: that Pink Armenia helped write same-sex marriage into a supposedly leaked new draft of the Armenian constitution, and that we’re funded by the US Agency for International Development. We denied this publicly, but by then the story had travelled.

The fake Pride story was just one piece of a much bigger campaign against our organisation and, more broadly, against LGBTQI+ people. A fake account impersonating Pink Armenia on Twitter/X managed to buy a verification checkmark before being suspended. Someone also set up a lookalike domain and sent emails in the name of our former president, telling schools that an LGBTQI+ curriculum would be introduced in 2027.

We also know that foreign bloggers were approached and offered paid trips to Yerevan to publicly urge Pashinyan to ‘support Pride’ as a show of solidarity with Europe. Someone pasted images of same-sex couples on walls in Yerevan, then photographed them as ‘evidence’ of activism that wasn’t happening.

What was the campaign trying to achieve?

Whoever was behind the fake Pride campaign wanted two things: to provoke fear and hostility towards LGBTQI+ people and to damage the government and its pro-European course by association. The false claims reinforced a familiar storyline in which European integration will bring the imposition of ‘foreign values’ and LGBTQI+ rights are the leading edge of that imposition.

This rhetoric didn’t come out of nowhere. Across the region, anti-LGBTQI+ discourse is increasingly tied to anti-democratic narratives, attacks on civil society and conspiracy theories that portray human rights organisations as foreign agents and threats to national identity. The same thing happened in Moldova and elsewhere in the region, with LGBTQI+ rights used to split the electorate ahead of a vote.

Although Armenia isn’t like neighbouring countries where anti-LGBTQI+ campaigns are written into state policy, the election showed our community being used when politically convenient. That kind of rhetoric makes the public environment hostile, legitimises discrimination and creates conditions in which hate speech and violence become more socially acceptable.

What has changed, and what hasn’t, for LGBTQI+ rights in Armenia?

Some things have improved. Earlier this year, Pink Armenia was formally included in public advisory councils at the health, internal affairs, justice, and labour and social affairs ministries. This means we can now raise issues directly with them.

But the law hasn’t changed. Armenia still hasn’t recognised same-sex partnerships. There’s no anti-discrimination protection covering sexual orientation and gender identity in most areas of life. When someone is the victim of a hate crime just for being LGBTQI+, that still doesn’t count as an aggravating factor.

Social attitudes are the other barrier. LGBTQI+ people still face discrimination in education, employment, family settings and healthcare. Being open about who you are still carries a risk, so many people hide it or leave Armenia in search of safety.

How is Pink Armenia countering disinformation?

We monitor media and social media systematically, documenting disinformation and hate speech targeting LGBTQI+ people and tracking the politicians and outlets pushing it. This gives us the evidence to respond publicly, take issues to policymakers and, when needed, go to court.

When false claims about us circulate, we answer them directly. We issue public clarifications and work with independent fact-checkers such as the Fact Investigation Platform and Media.am.

On digital security, we report impersonating accounts and fraudulent lookalike domains so they get taken down, and we warn partner institutions such as schools when fake messages go out in our name.

What support does Armenian civil society need?

We need stronger international cooperation to deal with disinformation networks that operate across borders to spread anti-gender narratives. Sharing of advocacy strategies, best practices, digital security expertise and research would strengthen civil society across the region.

We also need long-term support, not just project funding that responds to one crisis at a time. We need funds that are sustainable and flexible enough to keep our services running while we react quickly to disinformation campaigns and security threats.

International partners can do something else too: keep raising discrimination, hate speech and attacks on civil society in their diplomatic conversations with Armenian authorities. Public attention and international scrutiny make it harder to treat these issues as optional.

Ultimately, supporting LGBTQI+ rights in Armenia isn’t only about one community. It’s about defending democratic values, protecting civic space and making sure no group is excluded from human rights because it has become a politically convenient target.

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.

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Armenia: ‘Foreign interference was real and documented, but its impact is hard to measure’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Samvel Martirosyan 16.Jul.2026
Armenia’s westward turn overshadowed by personal rule CIVICUS Lens 18.Jun.2026
Armenia/Azerbaijan: ‘Civil society has an essential role in preparing societies for peace’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Konul De Moor 19.Sep.2025

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Josephine Sembeyo (in blue) competes during Kenya's World Athletics Under-20 trials in May, where she qualified for the World Athletics Under-20 Championships in Oregon. Credit: Robert Kibet/IPS

By Robert Kibet
OLOITOKTOK, Kenya, Jul 30 2026 (IPS)

Before sunrise each morning, 19-year-old Josephine Sembeyo joins dozens of teenage runners leaving Magnolia Athletics Camp for training beneath the shadow of Mount Kilimanjaro.

The quiet morning air is broken only by the rhythm of footsteps along the dusty roads that have shaped generations of Kenyan distance runners.

But for Sembeyo, every kilometre represents far more than preparation for the 2026 World Athletics Under-20 Championships, where she will represent Kenya in the 1,500 metres.

Running has given her a chance she once feared might never come: to complete her education, support her family and make choices about her own future.

“Life hasn’t been easy for us. My father married a second wife and left my mother to raise us on her own. Seeing everything my mother has gone through motivates me every day. I want to succeed in athletics and education so that one day I can support her and my siblings and give them a better life,” Sembeyo says.

Girls from Magnolia Athletics Camp during a daily road training session in Oloitokitok, Kenya. Credit: Robert Kibet/IPS

A Camp Creating New Possibilities

Sembeyo is among 45 girls from pastoralist communities living and training at Magnolia Athletics Camp in Oloitokitok, near Kenya’s border with Tanzania.

The camp provides full scholarships covering education, accommodation, meals, athletics training and safeguarding support.

For many of the girls, athletics is not only about competition. It has become a pathway to education, confidence and opportunities that might otherwise remain out of reach.

The girls’ journey comes as they mark the International Day for Women and Girls of African Descent on July 25, a day that recognises the contributions, resilience and experiences of women and girls of African descent while highlighting the need to address discrimination and inequality.

For girls growing up in marginalised communities, access to education, safe spaces and opportunities can be a powerful tool for breaking cycles of poverty and exclusion.

Coach Andrew Lesuuda says Magnolia was created not only to identify talented runners but also to give girls a safe environment where they can develop academically and personally.

“When we started Magnolia Athletics Camp, our vision was not only to identify talented runners. We wanted to create an environment where girls could discover their potential, stay in school and believe that they can achieve more in life,” Lesuuda says.

“Athletics gives them an opportunity to dream, but education gives them the foundation to build a future beyond sport.”

Sports Against Early Marriage and FGM

Many of the girls joining Magnolia come from communities where opportunities for girls remain limited and where some continue to face risks linked to female genital mutilation (FGM) and child marriage.

According to UNICEF, more than 230 million girls and women alive today have undergone FGM. The United Nations says progress towards ending the practice remains too slow to meet the Sustainable Development Goal target of eliminating FGM and child marriage by 2030.

Kenya outlawed FGM in 2011 and has made progress through legislation and awareness campaigns, but the practice continues in some communities, particularly among sections of pastoralist populations.

The struggles facing girls in vulnerable communities are part of a wider global challenge.

Sarah Hendriks, a UN Women spokesperson, in a recent press conference said no country in the world has achieved full legal equality between women and men, leaving millions of girls exposed to harmful practices and unequal opportunities.

“No country in the world has achieved full legal equality between women and men. More than half of the world’s countries do not actually define rape by law on the basis of consent. Nearly three-quarters — 74% of the world’s countries — still allow child marriage by law, allowing girls to be married as children,” Hendriks said.

At Magnolia, athletics has become a tool for changing that reality by keeping girls in school and giving them opportunities beyond traditional expectations.

A Second Chance Through Running

Before joining Magnolia, Sembeyo feared her education could end early and that she might face an early marriage.

Today, she believes the camp has transformed her future.

“Had it not been for Magnolia Athletics Camp, I believe my life would have been very different. I was at risk of an early and forced marriage, but coming here gave me the chance to stay in school, train and dream about a better future. Today, I’m happy because I know my life has a direction,” she says.

Her daily routine starts before sunrise with training, followed by school and another athletics session in the afternoon before homework in the evening.

“Every morning when I train, I remind myself why I’m doing it. I know every session brings me closer to my dream and gives me another opportunity to change my family’s life,” she says.

When Climate Change Threatens Dreams

Sembeyo is joined at Magnolia by Jeska Lenawatop, a 1,500-metre runner from Lkuroto village in Samburu County, a pastoralist region in northern Kenya.

Before joining the camp, Jeska’s life revolved around helping her family care for goats and sheep, the main source of livelihood for many pastoral households.

But recurring droughts have devastated livestock and deepened economic hardship for communities that depend on animals for survival.

“Before Magnolia, my life was mainly about grazing goats and sheep. With droughts destroying livestock, our family’s main source of income, I had little hope for the future. This camp gave me a chance to stay in school and pursue my dreams,” Jeska says.

Through athletics and education, Jeska now sees a future beyond the challenges facing her community.

Building Confidence Through Education

Another athlete benefiting from Magnolia is Felister Naimutie, a 400 m and 800 m runner from Lolgorian village in Kilgoris.

She says drought and limited opportunities affected many girls growing up in her community.

“Growing up, I saw how drought affected our families and made life difficult. Many girls had few choices beyond pastoral duties and early marriage. Magnolia gave me hope through education and athletics,” Felister says.

For her, the camp represents more than a training facility. It is a place where she can continue learning while pursuing her sporting ambitions.

Beyond the Finish Line

Barnaba Korir, Athletics Kenya’s Youth Development Director, says community-based programmes, such as Magnolia, complement national efforts to identify young talent while ensuring athletes remain in school.

He says sport can build confidence, leadership and opportunities for young people.

At Magnolia, parents, teachers, community leaders and anti-FGM advocates also engage with families to promote girls’ education and challenge harmful practices.

As another training session ends beneath Mount Kilimanjaro, the girls jog back to camp laughing and encouraging one another.

For Sembeyo, the finish line is no longer defined only by medals.

Her selection to represent Kenya at the World Athletics Under-20 Championships has strengthened her belief that athletics can transform not only her life but also those of her family.

“Being selected to represent Kenya at the World Under-20 Championships means everything to me. It’s proof that hard work pays off, and I believe it is opening opportunities that can change my life. I want to make my family proud and show other girls that they should never give up on their dreams,” she says.

One day, she hopes to stand on an international podium wearing Kenya’s colours.

But her greatest ambition goes beyond medals.

“I want girls from communities like mine to know that education and sport can change their lives. If someone believes in you and gives you an opportunity, you can achieve your dreams. My dream is not only to win medals for Kenya but also to make sure my mother and my siblings have a better life,” Sembeyo says.

Perhaps Magnolia’s greatest achievement will not be measured by medals but by the number of girls who leave the camp with education, confidence and the freedom to choose the futures they want.

IPS UN Bureau Report

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PAHO Director calls for expanded access to innovations such as oral and injectable PrEP, rapid testing, and HIV self-testing, while strengthening early diagnosis and timely treatment initiation to advance HIV elimination. Credit: PAHO

By Pan American Health Organization
RIO de JANEIRO, Brazil, Jul 28 2026 (IPS)

The Region of the Americas has more tools than ever before to prevent, diagnose, and treat HIV, yet many of them are still not reaching everyone who needs them, Pan American Health Organization (PAHO) Director Jarbas Barbosa said during the opening session of the International AIDS Conference (AIDS 2026).

Dr. Barbosa emphasized that expanding access to innovations such as oral pre-exposure prophylaxis (PrEP), long-acting injectable PrEP, rapid testing, and HIV self-testing, together with strengthening early diagnosis and ensuring timely treatment initiation, will be essential to accelerate the elimination of HIV as a public health problem in the Region.

In his remarks, Dr. Barbosa highlighted that the Americas have repeatedly demonstrated that ambitious public health goals can be achieved through cooperation, scientific evidence, and strong health systems. He noted that the Region has eliminated polio and rubella and that several countries have eliminated mother-to-child transmission of HIV, achievements that provide a strong foundation for accelerating progress toward HIV elimination.

Credit: PAHO

He further stressed that achieving this goal will require combining innovations in prevention, diagnosis, and treatment with political leadership, equity, and close collaboration with communities.

Dr. Barbosa also noted that countries in Latin America and the Caribbean now finance 92% of HIV investments through domestic resources, representing one of the highest levels of domestic funding for HIV programs globally and demonstrating the Region’s sustained commitment to HIV response.

“The question before us is no longer whether we have the tools to end HIV as a public health threat. We do. The question is whether we can ensure that those tools reach everyone who needs them, regardless of where they live, who they are, or the circumstances they face,” said Barbosa. “Innovation only changes lives when people can access it.”

According to the latest available data, AIDS-related deaths in Latin America and the Caribbean declined by 46% between 2010 and 2025. In 2024 alone, access to antiretroviral treatment prevented an estimated 117,000 AIDS-related deaths. Access to PrEP also increased substantially, from 35,000 people in 2020 to more than 326,000 in 2025.

Despite this progress, significant gaps in access and coverage remain. Approximately one in three new HIV diagnoses is still made at a late stage of infection, and nearly 900,000 people living with HIV in Latin America and the Caribbean are not receiving treatment.

Reducing HIV-related mortality and addressing advanced HIV disease will be among PAHO’s key priorities at AIDS 2026. Although tools to prevent and treat HIV have improved substantially, late diagnosis, delays in treatment initiation, and challenges in retaining people in care continue to contribute to preventable deaths and to the burden of co-infections such as tuberculosis, which remains the leading cause of death among people with advanced HIV disease.

Against this backdrop, PAHO unveiled new initiatives aimed at accelerating HIV elimination across the Region.

As part of its agenda at AIDS 2026, PAHO launched the Alliance for HIV Elimination in the Americas, a new regional platform designed to advance progress toward HIV elimination by 2030 through stronger collaboration among governments, communities, international organizations, academia, development partners, and the private sector.

The Alliance is part of PAHO’s Disease Elimination Initiative and seeks to strengthen political leadership, expand equitable access to innovation, and promote sustainable investments to accelerate HIV elimination across the Americas.

PAHO is also advancing the Path to HIV Elimination in the Americas, an evidence-based framework that will help countries measure progress, identify remaining gaps, and demonstrate achievements on the path toward HIV elimination.

“If we maintain political commitment, protect the investments already made, and place equity at the center of every decision, ending HIV as a public health threat will be within our reach,” Barbosa said. “No country will achieve this goal alone.”

The PAHO Director warned that financial pressures, shifting political priorities, and persistent inequalities could jeopardize hard-won gains.

He reiterated that achieving HIV elimination will require strengthening people-centered health systems, expanding access to PrEP and other innovations, integrating HIV services with tuberculosis, viral hepatitis, and sexually transmitted infection services, working alongside communities to reduce stigma and discrimination, and sustaining the domestic investments that have enabled steady progress across the Region.

Throughout AIDS 2026, PAHO will advance these priorities through a series of high-level events focused on HIV elimination, advanced HIV disease, and equitable access to innovations for prevention, diagnosis, and treatment.

IPS UN Bureau

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Student-made posters and artwork line the streets of Jantar Mantar, capturing messages of resistance and hope. Aishwarya Bajpai/IPS

By Aishwarya Bajpai
NEW DELHI, Jul 27 2026 (IPS)

On July 25, after 50 days of protest at Delhi’s Jantar Mantar, Union Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan resigned.

The movement had begun in May as a satirical social media page called the Cockroach Janta Party, founded by Abhijeet Dipke after the Chief Justice of India, Surya Kant, used the term “cockroaches” during a Supreme Court hearing, apparently referring to young people with fake law degrees, but his remark sparked a massive public backlash.

Weeks later, the NEET-UG paper (for admission into medical colleges) leaked, and alleged irregularities in the Central Board of Secondary Education on-screen marking process transformed satire into a nationwide campaign.

On June 6, Dipke called for a sit-in protest at Jantar Mantar, demanding Pradhan’s resignation. But by the time the protest entered its seventh week, the movement had outgrown its original demand – and many argue that replacing one minister will not restore faith in an education system battered by paper leaks, administrative failures and growing privatisation.

The crowd reflected that evolution.

Protesters gather at the main stage at Jantar Mantar, where peaceful demonstrations and slogans continued throughout the sit-in. The stage later became the focal point of the movement as education reformer Sonam Wangchuk began his indefinite hunger strike. Credit: Aishwarya Bajpai/IPS

The seat of the protest, Jantar Mantar, had become far more than a student protest. Farmers stood beside parents, young professionals, senior citizens, queer activists and wage labourers. Volunteers distributed food, arranged train tickets for protesters travelling home and coordinated donations. People travelled from across India, while a handful of foreign nationals joined in solidarity. Despite their different backgrounds, they shared one belief — that the crisis threatened the future of public education itself.

Ashutosh Agarwal (centre), national vice-president of the Bharatiya Kisan Union, India’s Youth Wing, stands with colleagues from Meerut in solidarity with the student-led movement. Credit: Aishwarya Bajpai/IPS

The seriousness and urgency are also reflected in the numbers. India has recorded 152 examination paper leaks in the past decade – roughly one every month. In 2026 alone, more than 20 million candidates appeared for NEET-UG, while reports of the leak were followed by the deaths of nearly 20 aspirants by suicide. Yet clearing these examinations offers no certainty. According to the State of Working India 2026 report by Azim Premji University, nearly 40% of graduates aged 15–25 remain unemployed, while unemployment among graduates aged 25–29 stands at 20%. Although the country produced 5 million graduates each year between 2004/05 and 2023, only 2.8 million found employment.

As the protests grew, they also drew support from opposition leaders, public figures and education reformers, expanding the movement beyond student circles.

The turning point came on June 28, when education reformer Sonam Wangchuk joined the sit-in with an indefinite hunger strike. CJP announced a march to Parliament on July 20, the opening day of the Monsoon Session. Later, on 18^th July, Delhi Police removed Wangchuk from the protest site and admitted him to Safdarjung Hospital for medical observation, a move his family described as forced hospitalisation against his wishes.

What followed altered the course of the movement.

On July 20, police and the Rapid Action Force dispersed marchers using batons, tear gas, water cannons and pellet guns. Protesters alleged that some lathis were studded with nails, while the RAF’s own chief later admitted that “excessive force” had been used during the operation.

Nazia Khanam (left) and her friend travelled across Delhi to join the protest. Credit: Aishwarya Bajpai/IPS

Instead of dispersing the protesters, however, the crackdown brought more people to Jantar Mantar.

Nineteen-year-old Anshil Khan was among those who returned.

A first-year student at Delhi Skill and Entrepreneurship University, he had spent nearly three weeks at the protest. Four days earlier, he said, police had beaten him while demonstrators were trying to march towards Parliament Street. Even as he spoke, he carried hospital reports documenting his injuries.

“I got hit three times by the Delhi police,” he said. “I have been resting for four days, and today I have come back.”

He recalled crossing two barricades before police stopped the march at the third.

“We were peacefully protesting and only raising slogans of “Inquilab Zindabad” (Long Live Revolution). Nothing violent happened from our side.”

Delhi Police had issued a public advisory before the march stating that no permission had been granted for any procession beyond the designated protest site and later maintained that officers were enforcing prohibitory orders. Officials also said that both protesters and security personnel suffered injuries during the clashes.

For Anshil, however, the police action only strengthened public support.

“The students are coming along with their parents now,” he said, referring to the days following Wangchuk’s detention and the July 20 crackdown.

Anshil Khan, a member of the Students’ Federation of India (SFI), joins fellow protesters at Jantar Mantar. Credit: Aishwarya Bajpai/IPS

His demands had also evolved.

“Dharmendra Pradhan’s resignation is the first step,” he said. “Education is our first priority.”

That sentiment surfaced repeatedly across conversations at Jantar Mantar. Protesters were no longer speaking only about accountability for one minister; they were debating how India’s education system itself should function.

Standing nearby with a placard reading “We are fighting for our rights,” Nazia Khanam had travelled across Delhi to join the demonstration, despite never having been directly affected by an examination scandal.

A law student from Jodhpur interning in the capital, Khanam had successfully cleared the Common Law Admission Test (CLAT). But with her younger sister now preparing for the same examination, she felt she could not remain on the sidelines.

“Being an elder sister of a student who is going to give a competitive exam, it becomes my responsibility,” she said. “Even though I’m not personally affected, I should still come here and raise my voice.”

Unlike many demonstrations driven solely by outrage, Khanam arrived with ideas for reform.

“There should be stricter checks and balances at every bureaucratic level,” she said, referring to agencies such as the National Testing Agency, examination centres and other bodies involved in conducting competitive exams.

She also questioned how education policy is made.

“There should be other stakeholders involved,” she said. “Educators who have done actual groundwork, who know the ground reality, should be part of consultations before policies are formulated like Sonam Wangchuk.”

That conversation had drawn unexpected allies.

Among those standing with the students was Ashutosh Agarwal, National Vice-President of the Bharatiya Kisan Union, India’s youth wing. Before arriving in Delhi, he said, the union had organised meetings across Meerut, Muzaffarnagar and other parts of western Uttar Pradesh to mobilise support for the students.

“We demand one nation, one education,” he said.

For Agarwal, the increasing commercialisation of essential public services was inseparable from the examination crisis.

“We demand the end of privatisation of both education and health,” he said. “Otherwise paper leaks won’t stop.”

He argued that growing corporate influence over private schools, colleges and hospitals had weakened public institutions, making quality education increasingly inaccessible.

Parents had reached a similar conclusion.

Alisha Siddique came to Jantar Mantar thinking about her three children, particularly her daughter pursuing a Bachelor of Science degree. Unlike many protesters, she did not begin with paper leaks. Instead, she pointed to the everyday rules that, in her view, unfairly punish students.

“If students reach one or two minutes late because of an accident or emergency, they are not allowed to sit for the exam,” she said. “Their entire year’s hard work goes to waste.”

For Siddique, the issue was larger than examinations.

“We want our children to become good citizens,” she said. “That starts with good education.”

The examination crisis merely provided the spark for Avinash Kumar, a human rights practitioner and activist who is the former Executive Director of Amnesty International India and the Director of Policy, Research and Campaigns at Oxfam India.

“The constant leaking cauldron of competitive exams provided that cause,” he said. “Yet everyone knows it’s now not just about that.”

According to Kumar, the protests became an outlet for frustrations that had accumulated over years — declining public services, rising costs, increasing privatisation, shrinking civic freedoms and a growing sense that institutions no longer worked for ordinary citizens.

“You need a cause which cuts across classes and masses, age and gender and religion,” he said. “Competitive exams became that cause.”

What struck Kumar most was not just the scale of the demonstrations in Delhi but also the emergence of protests in places that rarely make national headlines.

“My attention was particularly drawn towards mass-scale showings in small unknown towns like Begusarai, Narnaul and Aurangabad,” he said. “All were speaking in one language of years of frustration.”

To him, that distinguished this movement from many previous protests.

Rather than revolving around one organisation or one political leader, it drew strength from multiple voices – student leaders, education reformers, farmers, parents, opposition politicians and ordinary citizens – each contributing from their own experience.

“It is a movement with very different leaders at different points of time,” Kumar said.

Two days after resignation, the protest site is almost empty.

The questions raised over 50 days of protest — about accountability, privatisation, public education and the future promised to India’s youth — remain standing.

IPS UN Bureau Report

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