A Rohingya refugee carries Myanmar's national flag during a Genocide Remembrance Day rally marking the anniversary of their mass exodus at a refugee camp in Bangladesh on 25 August 2026. Credit: Abdul Goni/AFP

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Sep 25 2026 (IPS)

On 15 September, Norwegian police and security services raided the headquarters of Telenor in Oslo. Authorities accuse the multinational telecoms company, majority owned by the Norwegian state, of aiding and abetting crimes against humanity in Myanmar and breaching sanctions.

Telenor sold its Myanmar subsidiary in March 2022, in the wake of the military coup that ousted the country’s democratically elected government in February 2021. An August 2025 Norwegian Broadcasting Corporation investigation reported that ahead of its exit, Telenor had complied with military requests to hand over customer data. It’s alleged that call log and location data may have helped the military track, capture and kill democracy activists, including campaigner Ko Jimmy, executed in July 2022.

Civil society warned of the dangers when Telenor prepared to sell its subsidiary to a joint venture between a Lebanese group and Thein Win Zaw, a Burmese entrepreneur accused of having close military ties. It has kept up the struggle for accountability. Justice for Myanmar, a covert activist group, worked with the International Commission of Jurists to collect documentary evidence on Telenor’s role and filed police complaints in December 2024 and October 2025.

Telenor is also subject to a lawsuit brought by a group of civil society organisations last October, alleging the company passed on data of over 1,200 people. In addition, the company has been found in breach of the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development’s Guidelines for Multinational Enterprises on Responsible Business Conduct.

International complicity

The Telenor case focuses attention on the wider networks of companies and states that are propping up the regime and keeping Myanmar’s civil war going.

Following the coup, almost all states refused to recognise Myanmar’s military rulers and continued to regard the exiled National Unity Government as the country’s legitimate representative. But several authoritarian states have since swung behind the junta. Russia leads the pack, with Vladimir Putin hosting junta leader Min Aung Hlaing for repeat visits in Moscow. China, India, Singapore and Thailand have joined Russia in supplying weapons.

Many Chinese companies collaborate with the regime, among them Geedge Networks, a tech company with close links to the Chinese state that specialises in online surveillance. The company is helping the military install a version of China’s ‘great firewall’ so it can systematically restrict internet use, access users’ data and identify and track down dissenters.

The junta made a concerted effort to gain international legitimacy with a sham election in December 2025 and January 2026. It extensively prepared the ground by replacing the civilian electoral commission with a military-controlled body, banning pro-democracy parties and prohibiting political rallies, ensuring a military puppet party faced only token opposition. A new election law enabled it to criminalise over 300 people for criticising the election. Authorities jailed some merely for liking social media posts and handed 37-year sentences to eight activists for taking part in a protest calling for a boycott. There were also reports of threats to withhold aid from displacement camps unless people voted.

After the military’s party duly won, Min Aung Hlaing transitioned from general to civilian and became president in April. That same month, a group of civil society organisations filed a complaint against him in Indonesia over his role in the 2017 genocide of Rohingya people. Despite this legal action and the election’s evident lack of credibility, an array of non-democratic states including Belarus, China and Russia were happy to endorse the result.

While the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) didn’t recognise the election, its most authoritarian members, Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam, backed it anyway, and the bloc has consistently stuck with its failed Five Point Consensus, a plan agreed with the junta in April 2021 that the military has never respected.

The US government has also shifted its position. In 2025, the Trump administration cut funding to independent Burmese media, lifted sanctions against junta-controlled businesses and arms dealers supplying the regime and removed protections from Burmese refugees living in the USA, citing governance improvements. It treated the junta as a legitimate counterpart by sending it a letter about tariffs. In May, it was revealed the junta gives Roger Stone, a long-time Donald Trump ally, US$50,000 a month to rebuild relations with the USA. Mineral deposits are likely in the Trump administration’s sights.

Civil war continues

The Telenor raid has momentarily brought Myanmar back into the headlines. Its civil war has otherwise gone on for almost five and a half years with little global attention. Sparked by the army’s violent suppression of democracy protests, it pits the military against armed pro-democracy forces, both backed by a variety of ethnic militia. The army controls the main population centres and has recently regained some territory, but there’s no end in sight.

The army has committed numerous crimes against humanity and war crimes. A September 2025 UN report painted a harrowing picture of airstrikes on schools and the destruction of villages. This year, the conflict has escalated across the Magway Region, with the army and associated militia mounting armed assaults on villages, burning homes and using drones to kill civilians, including children.

Recent escalations of conflict have driven further displacement. At the same time, monsoon rains across several regions in July and August caused floods that left villages isolated and increased disease risks. As needs have grown, the healthcare system is collapsing due to military attacks on facilities and workers, while humanitarian aid and vital health supplies are further constrained by military checkpoints, road closures and movement restrictions.

The Telenor case has the potential to challenge impunity. It should refocus the minds of democratic states and companies headquartered in them, offering a warning that they can be exposed for complicity in the junta’s atrocities. It should give fresh impetus to civil society’s efforts to hold states and companies to account. By standing with civil society, in Myanmar and around the world, democratic states can put themselves on the side of human rights and justice.

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

 
CIVICUS discusses public art, gender-based violence and censorship in Iraqi Kurdistan with Tara Abdullah, a multidisciplinary visual artist from Sulaymaniyah who is currently based in Oslo, Norway as part of the Safemuse – Safe Havens for Artists residency.

Tara Abdullah

How did you become an artivist?

I’m from Sulaymaniyah in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq, and I’ve been using art to express myself since I was a child. I fought hard to get into art school. After ninth grade, I joined the Institute of Art and studied there for five years, then studied for four more years at the College of Fine Arts at the University of Sulaymaniyah and graduated in 2020. All in all, I spent almost a decade studying art and learning new materials and methods I could bring into my work.

Since I graduated in 2020, I’ve used art in many different forms, and over the past six years I’ve tried to bring art and activism together, mainly around environmental conservation and women’s rights.

Doing art as a woman here isn’t easy. Dogmas around culture, religion and tradition mean most forms of art are considered haram, or forbidden. Even inside the art community, I’ve found a kind of disgust towards certain forms of art, with people saying some things are too provocative or politically wrong. But reading monthly data on femicide and violence against women has pushed me further to try to use elements of the culture and society I grew up in to try to break the red lines set for women.

What was the Feminine Project?

It was a project I started in 2020, in which I collected clothes from women who had faced violence. I went door to door across thousands of homes in the city and surrounding towns to interview the women and collect a piece of clothing along with their story. I stitched the pieces together and hung them along a five-kilometre stretch of the city’s main street, leading from the main court to the public park.

This was my idea of a peaceful protest. Women here can’t speak openly about the violence they face. If they did, they’d face immediate backlash. Their clothes themselves carry shame. When women hang their washing out, they cover their underwear so it isn’t seen by anyone. I wanted to show that not even women’s clothes have the freedom to be touched by the sun, let alone the women themselves.

I put up a public installation rather than a gallery, because I wanted the public exposed to it, not just the small art community that already agrees with these ideas. By the end of the first day, people started tearing the piece down and burning parts of it, and it triggered a huge backlash online and offline.

What project did you work on then?

After the Feminine Project, I had thousands of stories from the women I’d interviewed. So in late 2022 I started my Voice Project. I turned the stories into a two-minute speech carrying the weight of all of it: honour killing, suicide, violence. Women here are expected to keep a low voice and never give their opinion. Decisions are made for them by men. So I created a voice for them.

I played the message through 66 synchronised speakers across four cities and three surrounding towns in Sulaymaniyah province, all at the same time. I used megaphones deliberately. They’re symbolically loaded because they are used in mosques by mullahs for the call to prayer. In most countries, anyone can speak, but here it’s always a man’s voice, whether it’s calling people to prayer or selling groceries. I wanted to show women also had a voice.

This caused an even bigger backlash than the first project. People started shutting down the speakers, and the mullahs pushed to bring me to court, accusing me of an immoral act against our culture, religion and tradition. They accused me of promoting homosexuality, which genuinely surprised me, because the piece was straightforwardly about violence against women. When the judge called me in for a statement, he asked whether I was promoting ‘queer ideology’. I replied that my work promotes individual freedom. The case was eventually dismissed, but I had to get out of the country and stay away for a few weeks until things settled down.

I think the backlash comes from the visibility. The art community is tiny, and art typically stays inside galleries where very few people see it. But when you bring it out into the public space, it exposes feelings the public didn’t know were there.

How do you manage the risks that this work brings?

For the Feminine Project, building trust with the women was very difficult. I had to reassure them I wasn’t taking photos or recording their voices, and let them check this was true. Even then, some rejected the idea outright, saying things like, ‘So what are you going to do, are you superwoman? Things won’t change’, or accusing me of trying to destroy their families.

None of the clothes in the final installation were tied to a name, so the women’s safety was protected. That meant all the pressure landed on me. I come from a very traditional, religious family who never approved of me going into art. When I was preparing the Feminine Project, I told them I was doing charity work. When the truth came out, there was a huge conflict at home, including violence. But this didn’t make me back down. Instead, it made me more determined.

I know that by undertaking these projects I risk being taken to court, being denied permission to work or receiving online smears and threats. But if I don’t do this, who will? I’m proud of what I’ve done and I’ll keep doing it.

What support have you received?

There are always going to be people for and against, but honestly, most public reaction leans against this kind of work. But I’ve also received some encouragement. Following the Feminine and Voice projects, many women contacted me anonymously to tell me how much relief the work gave them, as someone was finally saying what they’d wanted to say themselves.

However, most of the support I receive comes from outside Iraq. After the Voice Project, I was blacklisted and I couldn’t get any funding or permission for public installations, so I started applying for international prizes instead.

In 2023 I was shortlisted for the Future Generation Art Prize in Ukraine, out of 12,000 applications, for an installation building a bridge between Kurdish women’s experience of violence and war and Ukrainian women living through the current conflict, and I won the special prize in 2024. I also received the Alpine Fellowship Visual Art Prize in 2023 and the Prince Claus Seed Award in 2025. Researchers have written papers about my work, and in 2025, I showed a rough-cut documentary about the Voice Project in Warsaw and an indoor installation about Kurdish women’s experience in Kraków, Poland. That international attention keeps me going, and I use the exposure and funding to keep building pressure back home.

How do you collaborate with others?

I work as an individual artist. I bring in craftspeople and freelancers to help make each piece, but most of them ask me not to use their names. They want the money, not the association. I always explain the risk honestly to people, and many back out.

When I can, I bring in local women to do the work and pay them. For the Feminine Project I had dozens of women doing the sewing. For my environmental work, I try to involve as many women and young people as possible. For a water festival in 2025, I made giant puppets out of reed and recycled biodegradable material alongside 20 people, running workshops over 10 days so they could learn to use art to deliver their own messages.

Collaboration carries risk. When I ran a seminar on art and peace, security forces raided it on the second day and took me in for questioning. But my message to anyone facing suppression or violence is not to be afraid. Talk about it; bring it out into the open. You don’t have to be accepted by a corrupted environment around you to accept yourself.

For me, art is a whole universe you can fit everything into: your ideas, your beautiful things and the problems around you. You can use art to try to fix things. It’s the only weapon that doesn’t hurt or kill.

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

GET IN TOUCH
Website
Instagram

SEE ALSO
Iraq: ‘The proposed amendments to the Personal Status Law are an attack on women’s rights’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Mohammed Juma 07.Dec.2024
Iraq: ‘Tolerance for abuses against LGBTQI+ people has now been made explicit through legislation’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Sarah Sanbar 26.Jun.2024
Iraq: ‘We’ve submitted many bills, but parliament refuses to adopt a law against GBV’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Alyaa Al Ansari 07.Mar.2022

A group of armed defectors from the RSF arrives in the west of Omdurman on 19 August 2026. Credit: Ebrahim Hamid/AFP

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Sep 21 2026 (IPS)

Sudan’s civil war grinds on. It’s close to three and a half years since the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) militia began their battle for supremacy, and the two forces and their allies continue to slaughter civilians with impunity. As a recent UN report makes clear, the killing is enabled by numerous foreign powers that continue to supply weapons, personnel and logistical support. They have made a civil conflict their proxy war, and their self-interest is sustaining the killing.

Drone warfare

Things are relatively quiet in the capital, Khartoum, where the curfew was recently lifted following its recapture by the SAF last year, but the RSF still controls significant areas, with fighting concentrated in the Darfur and Kordofan regions to the west and Blue Nile state in the southeast.

Both sides now extensively use drones to kill civilians. In February, a suspected RSF drone strike on an aid convoy in South Kordofan killed three humanitarian workers and wounded four more. In May, a suspected SAF drone strike on a crowded market in Ghubaysh, an RSF-controlled town in West Kordofan, killed 28 people as they shopped for food. In August, another likely SAF strike on a court session in an RSF-controlled village killed 35 people.

The RSF are attacking El Obeid, a city of around half a million people in North Kordofan. RSF drones have hit hospitals and schools. People fear a repeat of what happened when the RSF took the city of El Fasher last October. The UN’s Fact-Finding Mission concluded that the ensuing massacre, in which the RSF killed at least 60,000 people, bore the ‘hallmarks of genocide’, with ethnically targeted killings and widespread sexual violence.

Humanitarian and civic space emergency

The war has caused the world’s largest humanitarian crisis. Over 11 million people have been forcibly displaced within Sudan or to surrounding countries, and around 20 million are experiencing acute food insecurity.

There’s a great need for the help civil society offers, but it’s hard for humanitarian organisations to provide aid because of security dangers and access and movement restrictions. The Sudanese government is also attacking the ability of civil society organisations to operate. In February, authorities revoked the licences of four organisations with missions to provide aid, help victims and promote peace.

Journalists, particularly women journalists, are under attack, making it harder to tell the truth about what’s happening on the ground. In January, the Sudanese Journalists Syndicate recorded that 14 journalists and other media workers had been killed in 2025. In December 2025, it was reported that 40 per cent of women journalists had experienced sexual assault, physical violence, harassment or threats.

Foreign powers behind the war

Sudan’s people can expect little help from the deadlocked UN Security Council. In August, the US government proposed a resolution to expand an arms embargo that currently applies to Darfur to the whole country, explicitly including drones. The Sudanese government condemned the proposal and Russia rejected it, which, given its veto power as a permanent member, means the resolution won’t advance further unless significantly watered down.

Russia initially sold weapons to both the RSF and SAF but more recently has swung behind the SAF, becoming a major arms supplier in return for gold and a potential Red Sea naval base. It’s joined by several other states with a direct stake in the conflict. The UN’s Fact-Finding Mission has set out how the SAF are using foreign-supplied drones while transnational networks are keeping the RSF supplied.

Alongside Russia, states that supply arms or other military support to the SAF, or have done so at some point since the war began, include Egypt, Eritrea, Iran, Libya, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Somalia, Turkey and Ukraine. Those that have backed the RSF in various ways include the Central African Republic, Chad, Ethiopia, Kenya, South Sudan, Uganda and, most notoriously, the United Arab Emirates (UAE). Weapons originating from countries including Canada, China, Israel and the UK have also been used. In most cases, states deny involvement.

There’s ample evidence that the UAE extensively supplies the RSF with mercenaries and weapons via African transit routes, in return for gold and in the hope of securing a regional foothold. The UAE funded Colombian mercenaries who played an active role alongside the RSF in the slaughter in El Fasher. It was recently revealed that individuals and entities linked to the RSF’s leader Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemedti, have acquired properties worth over US$24 million in Dubai, likely paid for with smuggled gold.

The UAE’s reliance on states that border Sudan to allow its convoys to cross brings the risk of conflict spillovers, as seen in alleged SAF airstrikes on a military convoy in Chad in August.

Push for accountability

A new initiative to hold foreign figures accountable offers some hope for justice. In June, the Raoul Wallenberg Centre for Human Rights and a group of civil society organisations made a legal submission to the International Criminal Court (ICC), asking it to investigate several foreign officials for aiding and abetting crimes against humanity, genocide and war crimes in Sudan. The submission provided evidence of the involvement of the governments of Egypt, Iran, Turkey and the UAE.

The ICC has an ongoing investigation into the situation in Darfur, scene of a 2003-2005 genocide. It has confirmed that human rights crimes committed during the current war fall under its jurisdiction as part of this investigation, and in June it announced it had ‘concrete evidence’ linking RSF leaders to atrocities in El Fasher.

It’s vital that leaders responsible for human rights crimes face justice, and this must include the leaders of the countries waging a proxy war. If there is to be peace and justice, the impunity of the foreign powers that are sustaining the war must be challenged.

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

 
CIVICUS discusses renewed conflict and a growing crackdown on independent media in Ethiopia with Yonas Kedir, Editor-in-Chief of the independent news outlet Addis Standard, who was recently abducted and detained by government forces.

Yonas Kedir

What’s the current situation in Ethiopia?

Ethiopia is facing overlapping humanitarian, political and security crises. Armed conflict continues in Amhara and Oromia states, while Tigray remains scarred by the devastating 2020-2022 war. Displacement continues, territorial disputes remain unresolved and the peace agreement has only been partly implemented.

Armed conflict and insecurity have also spread to Benishangul-Gumuz, Gambela and other parts of Ethiopia. Tensions between the federal government and Tigrayan authorities have intensified. The government alleges that Eritrea is backing the Tigray People’s Liberation Front and other armed groups. Relations with Eritrea are strained, particularly by disputes over Red Sea access and regional security, and Ethiopia is under growing scrutiny over its alleged role in Sudan’s civil war.

The government says Ethiopia faces an anti-federal military movement involving Eritrea, Sudan, the Oromo Liberation Army, Tigray forces and Fano, an Amhara nationalist militia, accusing them of working as an alliance to unseat the federal government. These are highly contested claims, but they shape the government’s framing of the security environment.

Why are journalists being targeted, and why is the pressure escalating?

Journalists are targeted because independent reporting can challenge official narratives and expose abuses, civilian harm and government conduct. When journalists investigate alleged abuses by government forces, authorities present their work as damaging Ethiopia’s national security or serving foreign interests.

There’s a growing tendency to treat independent journalism as a national security threat. Government officials often call on the media to prioritise the national interest and national unity, while treating critical reporting on sensitive issues as inherently harmful to the country.

Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch have documented a deteriorating environment for independent media, including detention, intimidation, restrictions and the use of broad national security and national interest arguments against critical reporting. In this context, legitimate public-interest reporting can be interpreted by authorities or politicians as taking sides.

The pressure has intensified because several politically sensitive issues are converging at the same time, including the political environment, the security situation, the unresolved consequences of the Tigray war, tensions involving Eritrea and Sudan and debates over Ethiopia’s constitutional and political future.

The most recent election was held in a highly contested political environment, with several major opposition parties boycotting the process. This has raised questions about the inclusiveness and broader political legitimacy of the electoral process, particularly in a context where political space for opposition political figures and independent voices remains constrained.

These issues make independent reporting particularly important, but also make journalism on governance and political issues increasingly sensitive.

Why were you detained, and what happened while you were held?

I don’t know for sure who ordered my detention, and nor can I establish the full motive. But the questions I was asked and the circumstances around them strongly suggest my journalistic work was central to what happened.

On 1 August, security personnel took me, assaulted me, blindfolded me and held me for around 24 hours. They questioned me about my work and about Addis Standard’s reporting. While I was detained, security forces raided Addis Standard’s office and seized cameras and other newsroom equipment. They also searched my home and confiscated company and personal equipment. I was released the next day.

For me, this was bigger than myself. The fact that I was questioned about my work and that newsroom equipment was seized raises concerns about the safety of all journalists and the ability of independent media to operate freely.

What conditions do journalists face in Ethiopia, and what are the consequences of the loss of independent reporting?

Journalists in Ethiopia operate in an environment of fear and uncertainty, facing administrative restrictions, arrest, detention, harassment, online intimidation, physical attacks and surveillance. This is particularly true for those in conflict areas, where access can be restricted, sources are often afraid to speak and journalists face pressure from multiple sides, not only federal authorities but also armed and political groups.

This encourages self-censorship. Journalists avoid particular subjects, soften their language or decide not to publish information that could put themselves, colleagues or sources in danger. This leaves people with very limited access to reliable information about decisions that affect their lives.

Independent journalism provides a mechanism for documenting alleged abuses, civilian casualties, displacement and humanitarian needs. A healthy information environment is essential for meaningful public participation, national dialogue and peacebuilding. When independent reporting is weakened, victims and communities lose a public platform to raise concerns. It also becomes harder for people to distinguish verified information from disinformation, propaganda and politically motivated narratives.

What support do Ethiopian journalists and civil society need?

The international community should help build stronger protection and rapid-response mechanisms for when journalists are attacked, detained and threatened, and should press for meaningful accountability for abuses against journalists and media organisations.

International partners should provide legal and institutional support to help media organisations challenge arbitrary licence revocations, unlawful restrictions and other forms of administrative pressure. They should support efforts to strengthen the independence of Ethiopia’s judiciary, so it can protect fundamental rights and provide meaningful remedies when state institutions act unlawfully.

International partners should also give very serious attention to protecting people’s right to organise around their aspirations, grievances and interests, which is essential to peaceful political participation. Expanding civic space can strengthen peace processes and peacebuilding, while suppressing these rights can contribute to the expansion of conflict.

Finally, international partners should continue to monitor Ethiopia’s civic space, engage authorities and support independent investigations. Reporting on abuses shouldn’t be treated as a threat to national interest. It’s part of the public’s right to know. International engagement should also look beyond whether constitutional initiatives, elections and national dialogue processes take place on paper, and assess whether these processes are genuinely inclusive, participatory and protective of fundamental rights.

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

GET IN TOUCH
Website
Facebook
Twitter
Yonas Kedir/Facebook
Yonas Kedir/Twitter

SEE ALSO
Ethiopia: Authorities intensify media crackdown ahead of national elections CIVICUS Monitor 31.Jul.2026
Ethiopia: ‘The goal behind the bill is very clear: to control, silence and disable civil society’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Yared Hailemariam 28.Jul.2025
Ethiopia: ‘Reconciliation will require robust transitional justice and accountability mechanisms’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Henok Ashagray and Hone Mandefro 29.Jan.2025

An AfD election poster with the message: “Youth come to us”, reminiscent of both Nazi and Communist propaganda.

By Jan Lundius
STOCKHOLM, Sweden, Sep 14 2026 (IPS)

During summer months there is a certain news drought. Nevertheless, this year social media has been crowded with news from wars in the Middle East and Ukraine, while customary tales about grisly murders have not been neglected. In Sweden it is election year and summer reporting has been supplemented by a debate about “hate speech against ethnic groups”. If individual tragedies connected with murders upset people, many seem to be indifferent to the fact that entire population groups are targeted by politicians. Swedish social media is overloaded with outcries about “Muslim” immigration and concerns about Sweden becoming “Islamized” and in danger of being transformed into a new Afghanistan.

Prominent in this hyped propaganda are the Sweden Democrats. A nationalist, social conservative, and populist political party finding its roots in neo-Nazism. In the 2010 elections, this party entered the Swedish parliament with 5.7 percent of the national votes and it now reigns the nation in coalition with other right-wing parties. According to the Statistical Central Bureau, a state agency, was the Sweden Democrats with 18 percent of current approval Sweden’s second largest political party, after the Social Democrats, with 34 percent.

The Sweden Democrat’s chief ideologist is a former high school teacher, Richard Jomshof, who together with three comrades by the turn of the last century managed to steer away Sweden Democrats from the White Power Movement and neo-Nazism, while maintaining the party’s nationalist and anti-immigrant tenor. After the 2022 parliamentary elections the Sweden Democrats became part of the Government. Jomshof left his post as party secretary and became chairman of the Parliamentary Justice Committee, which prepares cases connected with the Swedish judicial system – courts, the prosecution service, the police and correctional services, as well as cases and laws related to the Criminal Code.

Jomshof used his position to propagate for a tougher stance against criminals with a “non-Swedish background” and to promote restrictions on immigration. One of Jomshof’s goals has been to warn Swedes about the “Islamization of our Homeland”. After publishing anti-Islamic cartoons on X Jomshof was close to be removed from his position as chairman of the Justice Committee. However, committee members sided with him while one of them characterized the accusations of “discrediting an entire population group” as nothing more than a common “political yap”. Nevertheless, a year ago, Jomshof stepped down as chair of the Committee, in protest after the Government had banned certain semi-automatic weapons.

After that Jomshof dedicated much of his time to write an “analysis” of Islam and recently published a book called Kafir, an Arab word for “infidel”, which has become a bestseller. Jomshof’s political stance and career as an “expert” on Islam is one example of the polarization that currently characterizes much of European politics – a tendency to turn any individual into a representative of an entire ethnic and/or religious group and throw her/him into one big pot where s/he becomes part of a one single problem – immigration.

Jomshof is an extreme nationalist representing an anti-immigrant political party, but that does not mean that every supporter of Sweden Democrats is a reformed Nazi and stout believer in Jomshof’s generalisations, likewise not every Muslim is a supporter of the extremist Islam Jomshof depicts. It is dangerous to bundle together individuals and label them all as extremists. Recently a young man equipped with sword and helmet entered a Swedish school and killed one pupil while gravely wounding two, a third escaped with minor injuries. He had apparently been inspired by the Norwegian Behring Breivik, who in 2011 massacred 77 people as a gesture to “combat multiculturalism and Muslim immigration”. In 2015, the Swede Anton Lundin-Pettersson murdered three persons for the same reason.

Gaining political advantages through xenophobia is just one ingredient in a larger European political landscape. That a small, marginal political party with Neo-Nazi roots after less than fifteen years ended up in the Swedish government re-confirms a phenomenon present all over Europe. On 15 September, there are general elections in Sweden and next year in France, Spain, Greece, Poland and Italy. All these countries have powerful parties with a nationalistic/xenophobic agenda. In France, the predecessor of National Rally was in 1972 founded by Jean-Marie Le Pen and then included some former members of the Nazi Waffen-SS. The Spanish Vox was established in 2013, benefitting from donations by ultra-conservative lobbies, such as HazteOír and CitizenGo. The Greek Golden Dawn was dissolved in 2020, after members of its top echelons had been convicted for serious crimes. In 2023, the Greek Supreme Court blocked its successor party, Hellenes, from participating in the general elections, a ruling that still stands for the elections in 2027. However, a plethora of smaller parties have taken up its agenda. The Polish Law and Justice Party is a conservative outbreak from the labor movement Solidarność, with a huge following and an agenda based on political Catholicism, strong conservatism, anti-liberalism, nationalism, and Euroscepticism. Brothers of Italy finds its roots in MSI, Movimento Sociale Italiano, a fascist party founded after the death of Mussolini. Through the general elections in 2013, Brothers of Italy gained nine seats in the Parliament, after obtaining two percent of the votes. According to the Italian polling and research firm Only Numbers, Brothers of Italy is currently Italy’s largest party and after the 2022 elections its leader, Giorgia Meloni, is Prime Minister of Italy. How could those originally small parties, some with a quite sordid background, in such a short time become so powerful?

One reason might be that by exposing outrageous and extreme opinions, which a political establishment would be ashamed of uttering, fringe parties might obtain attention from a generally liberal press. While warning the general public about such “fanatics”, liberal media spread their ideas and create an increasing interest. In a well calculated moment before the Swedish elections, Richard Jomshof published his untrustworthy and generalizing book about Islam. Although it was issued by a small and rather unknown publisher it received extreme attention by Swedish media – TV, newspapers and the web – and thus became an immediate bestseller. As Oscar Wilde once stated: “The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about”.

A similar phenomenon is currently under way in Italy. In 2023, the general Roberto Vannacci self-published a book on Amazon, Il mondo al contrario , The Upside-Down World, sparking a furious backlash and drawing heavy criticism for its contents. The Italian Armed Forces quickly distanced themselves from General Vannacci’s ideas. The defence minister stated that he had “discredited the Army, the Defence and the Constitution.” Vannacci, grateful for all attention, continues to spread his homophobia and misogyny, attacking immigration policies and environmentalism, while defending Russia’s war on Ukraine. He is now a welcome guest on TV, participates in debates with reputed politicians and academicians, while he recently has founded a political party.

The recent landslide election victory of the AfD, Alternative for Germany, in the federal state of Saxony-Anhalt has sent shock waves through liberal Europe. While being part of the larger Federal Republic of Germany, Saxony-Anhalt hosts just three percent of the nation’s entire population and has its second lowest GDP per capita. Nevertheless, the victory of its Saxony branch now fuels AfD’s hope to take the reins of the entire German Republic. AfD’s ultra-nationalistic agenda claims that Germany has had enough of guilt feelings about the repression and mass killings of the Nazi Regime. The past has to be reinterpreted and the party now asserts that Germany is in need of “less Hitler and more Bismarck”, i.e. the Chancellor who in the 19th century united Germany under the slogan “Blood and Iron”.

AfD has accordingly re-introduced the concept of Völkisch, folksy, used by the Nazis to denote a battle against “radicalism” in the form of modern art and foreign influences, while fomenting pride in everything the Party deemed as “German”. However, the concept was older and originally developed in opposition to the socio-cultural changes of modernity. AfD’s Saxony-Anhalt party programme intends to purge ”slander” of Germany from school education. No funding will be granted to organisations maintaining sites of Nazi terror – AfD’s leadership has condemned Berlin’s Holocaust Monument as a “national disgrace” – and the the party has also demanded that the world-famous Bauhaus complex in Dessau ought to be closed. In the 1920s this learning centre was a highly influential focus of innovative approaches to art and architecture, until the Nazis closed it down in 1933. It did later re-emerge as a museum, research centre, and cultural landmark, being part of the UNESCO Heritage Sites. The Saxony-Anhalt branch of AfD is furthermore a representative of what has been called eastalgia, i.e. nostalgia for the times when Saxony-Anhalt was part of the Communist, Soviet dominated East Germany. Consistent with this perception and displeasure with the central government’s spending on Ukraine’s defence, AfD is a stout supporter of Russia’s war on Ukraine.

Before the 1990 reunification of West and East Germany, Saxony-Anhalt was an important centre for a polluting heavy industry. One of East Germany’s most famous authors, Monika Maron, wrote a novel called Flugasche, Flying Ashes, in which she described the bleak, contaminated land of Saxony. Since then, the German Federal Republic has successfully cleaned up the traces of a ruthless industrialization and gradually transformed Saxony-Anhalt into an increasingly green state. However, this initiative came at the cost of the shutting down of several large industries, resulting in increased unemployment. Since 1990, Saxony-Anhalt has lost 750 000 inhabitants, mainly skilled young people, who have moved to the “West”, a fourth of the state’s population. Those left behind are an aging population and unskilled, unemployed young people, while the state has been partly repopulated by immigrants coming from foreign countries. They now constitute a tenth of the population. This has left a fertile ground for a populist party attracting disappointed old people and depressed youngsters, presented with the chimera of a happy pre-war Germany and/or Communist East Germany, which in reality are now forgotten and probably never existed.

A general sense of insecurity, reduced GDP and increasing unemployment harass several Europeans, not least young people. An embellished nostalgia for an actually forgotten past, assumed to have been annihilated by hordes of immigrants and corrupt liberals, has made Europeans affected by ultra-conservative parties, promulgating hazardous and divisive ideas. Representatives of murky ideologies are by media provided an attention they do not deserve. Excessive media interest, especially when marginal fanatics begin to spread their poisonous seed, might strengthen their outreach. Critical analysis, research and education are despised by dark forces who deliberately divulge their message through easy-to-understand, diluted and digestible propaganda and fake news. An ominous development that demands urgent action.

IPS UN Bureau

 
CIVICUS discusses the implications of the Philippines’ proposed anti-disinformation bill with Josalee Deinla, Secretary-General of the National Union of Peoples’ Lawyers, a civil society organisation that defends civil liberties in the Philippines.

Josalee Deinla

What’s the Digital Media Anti-False Information Act about, and why is it contested?

The proposed Digital Media Anti-False Information Act combines two regulatory approaches. The first targets the infrastructure of disinformation, including political advertising, recommender systems and the commercial systems that amplify and monetise content. Regulation of this infrastructure makes sense. Platforms decide what gets ranked and amplified, and their revenue depends on the engagement that attention-generating content produces.

The second approach is punitive, targeting individual speakers and operators. The law would make it unlawful to knowingly and wilfully publish, disseminate, finance, direct or materially assist in spreading false information with knowledge of its falsity or reckless disregard for the truth and with intent to cause verifiable public harm or a serious threat to national security. The penalty is set at six to 12 years in prison and a fine of up to PHP 2 million (approx. US$32,500).

The main problem is that the bill places its harshest burden at the end of the disinformation chain and its lightest at the point where disinformation is amplified and made profitable. Platforms face only administrative penalties and written warnings, while individual speakers face imprisonment and heavy fines.

If platform regulation, disclosure, correction, labelling and de-amplification can protect the public interest, the state must explain why individual speakers should face up to 12 years in prison. The law’s criminal provisions are hard to justify as necessary. Criminal law should be the last resort against expression, not the first.

The bill also relies on broad, overlapping definitions. ‘Disinformation’ requires knowledge of falsity or reckless disregard for the truth, plus intent to cause serious public harm. ‘False information’ is broader still, encompassing any demonstrably false statement presented as fact, regardless of materiality or context. Because prohibited acts draw on both definitions, the accused is left guessing which applies to which charge.

The consequences could be worse still. Three other Senate bills are pending before the Committee on Public Information and Mass Media, including one that would authorise the Department of Justice’s Office of Cybercrime to issue access-blocking, rectification, takedown and preventive takedown orders. It targets content causing harm to individuals, public order or national interests, a far broader test than the requirement that harm be material and concrete.

Why is the bill being pushed now?

There’s a genuine disinformation problem in the Philippines. Elections now depend heavily on digital campaigning, particularly on social media, and coordinated influence operations, historical revisionism, paid influencers and troll networks have all become part of routine political competition. Concerns over foreign interference have added a national-security dimension to the debate.

But the political context is inseparable from the legislation. The bill’s authorship is revealing. It was promoted by Representative Ferdinand Alexander ‘Sandro’ Marcos III, a son of President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. Ironically, the same political dynasty now demanding tighter legal controls on disinformation used social media’s commercial architecture to return to power in 2022.

The state is not a neutral outsider arriving to repair a corrupted information environment. Political elites participate in that environment, using the same advertising systems, amplification mechanisms, consultants, influencers and platforms they now propose to regulate. A government that actively competes in the information marketplace should not also acquire broad and insufficiently constrained authority to referee the truth of that marketplace.

The imbalance is visible even within the bill. Section 16 requires government agencies to maintain open-data portals and correct erroneous or misleading public statements within a reasonable timeframe after discovery, but it creates no enforcement mechanism and no penalty for non-compliance. Section 9, by contrast, exposes individual speakers who violate the law to six to 12 years’ imprisonment. The bill treats disinformation by the state as a matter of administrative housekeeping, while disinformation by individual speakers can become a serious felony.

The timing therefore reflects two developments: a real deterioration of the information environment and a political effort to acquire greater control over the consequences of that deterioration.

What risks do its provisions pose for civil society?

Alongside prosecution and what comes with it – arrest, detention, legal costs, disrupted work and stigma – the law, if enacted, will change behaviour long before any court decides guilt. For civil society organisations, human rights defenders, journalists and researchers, the cost lies in the interval between accusation and acquittal. No conviction is needed for the law to produce silence.

The bill’s safeguards don’t answer the central problem. Most operate only as defences or rules of construction after investigation has already begun. They may ultimately prevail, but the chilling effect operates in the process that precedes that determination.

Section 4(d) also raises a serious problem. It applies to a person who acts ‘on behalf of, in coordination with, or under the substantial direction or control of’ a foreign state, foreign intelligence service, foreign military force or foreign-funded covert influence operation. This is dangerously broad. Philippine civil society groups, human rights defenders, independent media, lawyers and universities routinely communicate with foreign embassies, foreign universities, international donors, international organisations and United Nations (UN) treaty bodies and special procedures mandate holders. All these relationships are part of everyday international advocacy.

The problem becomes more acute if this bill is read alongside separate foreign interference and malign foreign influence legislation now pending in Congress, which would create a Counter Foreign Interference Council and penalise foreign interference. The impacts could be cumulative. An organisation may first be accused of disseminating false information, then characterised as coordinating with foreign interests, then subjected to scrutiny of its funding and institutional relationships. Together, these measures could allow the state to scrutinise what civil society says, who it works with, who supports it and how its information reaches the public.

This is why any law allowing the government to determine whether political information is false, harmful to public order, malicious or threatening to national security demands exceptional caution. Responding to disinformation can’t mean giving the government a mandate to police truth.

How is civil society responding, and what support does it need?

Civil society opposition has been substantial, but it must be sustained. On 25 July, around 50 academics, civil society representatives, journalists and technologists gathered at the University of the Philippines College of Media and Communication, while at least a dozen organisations issued a joint call urging Congress to reject the bill. Opposition to the bill can easily be caricatured as opposition to regulating disinformation, but this is a false choice.

Civil society acknowledges the harm of disinformation but contests where the law places responsibility for it. Disinformation in the Philippines rarely stems from individual users making bad choices online. Much of it is organised, financed and professionally produced. Political operatives retain consultants who assemble networks of paid influencers and account operators. Coordinated pages manufacture the appearance of organic public sentiment, while platforms supply the distribution systems through which these narratives gain scale. The individual user is often the last link in a much longer chain, and the law should follow that chain upward.

Civil society proposes that allocation of responsibility should begin with the political principal who commissions the operation, the financier who pays for it, the strategist who designs it, the network that carries it out and the platform that amplifies and profits from it. Users should not become the preferred target of enforcement simply because they are the easiest to find.

Civil society needs support at several levels. It needs lawyers who can intervene while the Senate text is still being shaped and, if necessary, mount constitutional challenges later. It also needs technical expertise capable of interrogating platform claims about advertising tools, algorithms, content moderation and recommendation systems, and resources to protect human rights defenders, journalists and researchers, who may face complaints, digital attacks, investigations, surveillance and red-tagging – being vilified as a communist – once the law is in force.

International support matters too. Philippine organisations that receive foreign grants, work with international media and research institutions or engage UN mechanisms should not have to defend those relationships as though they were inherently suspect. Cross-border cooperation and funding are routine features of academic research, election monitoring, human rights work and journalism, and should not be collapsed into the language of foreign interference.

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

GET IN TOUCH
Website
Facebook
LinkedIn
Twitter
Josalee Deinla/Facebook
Josalee Deinla/Twitter

SEE ALSO
Philippines: ‘Development should serve people’s needs, not foreign capital’s demands’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Cathleen de Guzman 13.Aug.2026
Philippines: Civil society demands accountability for the Negros 19 killings as targeting of activists and journalists persist CIVICUS Monitor 24.Jul.2026
Philippines: ‘Change doesn’t come all at once, but in accumulated milestones’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Reighn Claire Ochosa 16.May.2026

Credit: UNESCO

By Thalif Deen
UNITED NATIONS, Sep 10 2026 (IPS)

First, it was the mass deportations of undocumented aliens, then a crackdown on liberal-minded academics from prestigious US Universities, and now, restrictions on foreign journalists based in the US.

The proposed restrictions may also affect scores of journalists covering the UN, including those who are part of national delegations scheduled to arrive in New York next week for the high-level segment of the 81st session of the General Assembly, with over 130 world political leaders in attendance.

According to the UN’s Media Accreditation and Liaison Unit (MALU), close to 5,000 media representatives are accredited by the UN,, including long term and temporary IDs, (the latter mostly for the annual General Assembly sessions).

The Foreign Press Association (FPA), the Society of Professional Journalists (SPJ), and the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) have jointly expressed strong opposition to the July 2026 U.S. Department of Homeland Security (DHS) proposed regulation that heavily restricts foreign media “I” visas.

“Together with the SPJ and the CPJ, we have drafted a letter to congress setting out our case against the impending changes and asking them to intervene promptly. We thank our sister organization, the Arab and Middle Eastern Journalists Association AMEJA, for its prompt and effective support in getting attention on the Hill”.

These restrictions are an arbitrary and unilateral tariff wall against the exchange of ideas and information, says Ian Williams, FPA President.

“We ask all our members to enlist other signatories to the letter and to approach legislators who can help stop these pernicious proposals. We have been here before. Last time such proposals were raised, FPA and SPJ led the battle to thwart the proposals – but they are back, and we are pleased this time to be backed by so many other organizations.”

At a press briefing August 31, UN Spokesperson Stephane Dujarric was asked whether the Secretary-General is aware of the proposed visa restrictions due to go into effect on 15 September that will impact international journalists.

“Is he concerned that this could impact coverage – not only of the United States, but of the United Nations, given it limits journalists to 240 days and many journalist’ organizations are very concerned about the impact that this will have on journalists?”

In his response, Dujarric said: “Look, of course, countries have the right to decide on visa policies. But we would hope that we see here in our (UN) host country a policy that allows for the maximum number of international journalists to cover, including to cover the UN. “

Despite the 1947 Headquarters Agreement between the US and the UN, which calls on Washington to facilitate the functioning of the UN, the US has denied visas to several heads of governments planning to visit the UN, or those accredited as diplomats.

The US State Department says: “Our mission is to enhance the United States’ global influence by helping foreign journalists develop a deeper understanding of U.S. policy, society, and values through programs and services that connect them with authoritative American information sources. Our mission reflects a commitment to fostering informed global dialogue, ensuring that international coverage of U.S. affairs goes beyond the surface and captures the complexity of American life.”

With over 1,500 accredited foreign journalists in the U.S., “our offices connect U.S. policy and cultural experts with audiences worldwide. Journalists credentialed with us are leading voices in their home countries, thus amplifying with their own credibility the access we curate and facilitate.”

• Every year, US Foreign Press Centers host dozens of experts from the private, public, and academic sector for on-the-record briefings on a variety of relevant topics.

According to the FPA, the US proposals also have broader implications for free speech and movement beyond just journalists; they also affect academics, students and other skilled professionals, so it is heartening to see a growing list of organizations from other sectors joining in opposition.

These proposed regulations will restrict both the numbers and the freedoms of international reporters in the US. We urge you persuade colleagues to join the FPA to help us to combat the proposals and assist colleagues who might be affected, said Williams.

Last week U.S. District Judge F. Dennis Saylor called out the Trump administration for imposing new restrictions on the duration of visas impacting international journalists and students. The changes impact F, J, and I visas and change how long students or journalists can stay, adding massive barriers if they need to extend their time in the United States.

“I think that the uncertainty point in terms of the impact of the potential irreparable harm is enormous,” Judge Saylor said.

Williams told Inter Press Service (IPS): “It is good that our issue is tied with other educational and work visas, so there are some influential litigants fighting this in the courts. The administration seems prejudicially impervious to reality”.

All our sources suggest that they did not consult with relevant officials in the State Department, which issues the visas, he said. “It’s apparent that the framers of the visa restrictions ignored the overwhelming majority to the request for feedback which opposed the proposals.”

As a result, the foreign press are caught in a “very Imperfect Storm.” The MAGA operatives making the moves combine ignorance and arrogance. They are profoundly suspicious of ALL media and of foreigners making the foreign press a dual target, and these people have no idea how the media work beyond recycling corporate and White House press releases.

In effect they are telling journalists whose beat is STEM, Wall Street, Media, Art, American politics and industry, that they can amass all the expertise all they need to know in less than 240 days – and that they face the chance of being excluded if their work does not reflect the administration’s view, declared Williams..

The joint letter said It is good that our issue is tied with other educational and work visas, so there are some influential litigants fighting this in the courts. The administration seems prejudicially impervious to reality.

All our sources suggest that they did not consult with relevant officials in the State Department, which issues the visas.

It’s apparent that the framers of the visa restrictions ignored the overwhelming majority to the request for feedback which opposed the proposals.

As a result, the foreign press are caught in a “very Imperfect Storm.” The MAGA operatives making the moves combine ignorance and arrogance. They are profoundly suspicious of ALL media and of foreigners making the foreign press a dual target, and these people have no idea how the media work beyond recycling corporate and White House press releases.

In effect they are telling journalists whose beat is STEM, Wall Street, Media, Art, American politics and industry, that they can amass all the expertise all they need to know in less than 240 days – and that they face the chance of being excluded if their work does not reflect the administration’s view.

IPS UN Bureau Report

UN staff members at the SDG Action Zone outside UN Headquarters in New York, 2019. Credit: UN Photo/Laura Jarriel

By Samuel King and Inés M. Pousadela
BRUSSELS, Belgium / MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay, Sep 9 2026 (IPS)

When the UN High-level Political Forum on Sustainable Development (HLPF) ended in New York in July, it took two recorded votes for states to pass a ministerial declaration that, until recently, would have been adopted without controversy. Uruguay, speaking for the Group of 77 developing countries plus China, pushed through the deletion of a reference to the agreement reached at the COP28 climate summit. Israel forced a vote on a paragraph about self-determination for people under occupation. Russia dissociated itself from the passage on peace and security. The wrangling revealed the extent to which the consensus that in 2015 saw all 193 UN states agree the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) – a common blueprint to end poverty, tackle climate change and build accountable institutions by 2030 – has been eroded.

The problem goes beyond this latest session. Progress is tracked through Voluntary National Reviews, the self-assessments states present at the Forum. Thirty-six countries did so this year. But the process asks nothing of states beyond showing up. There’s no independent verification of data, and governments aren’t required to consult civil society. States that restrict civic space at home face no consequences. Seventeen of the 36 states that presented reviews this year are rated by the CIVICUS Monitor as having repressed or closed civic space.

A forum built to hold states accountable has become a stage on which the least accountable governments may perform compliance, while the civil society groups meant to keep them honest are locked out of the room.

In the room but not at the table

Where civil society can act, it supports delivery of the SDGs. Sustained advocacy delivered Colombia’s ban on child marriage in 2025 and continues to drive the campaign against female genital mutilation in The Gambia. In Nepal, local organisations have made monitoring the goals more inclusive by supplying data on excluded communities that official statistics miss.

Yet the HLPF gives civil society little formal standing. Civil society was in the building all week — CIVICUS co-organised sessions on civic space and the SDGs, supported a global forum on the future of multilateralism and ran a workshop on the post-2030 agenda — but it didn’t get a seat at the table where decisions are made.

Showing up can also be dangerous. In 2025, most civil society representatives from El Salvador withdrew over fears of reprisals. Activists elsewhere describe reprisals for exposing gaps between official reporting and reality on the ground, often with little practical support from the UN despite guidelines that are supposed to protect them.

SDG 16 on peace, justice and strong institutions is meant to be the foundation for the other 16 goals, and its Target 16.10 commits states to protecting fundamental freedoms. But it’s routinely ignored. The CIVICUS Monitor has tracked year-on-year regression in civic space conditions since the SDGs came into effect. Where civil society can’t operate freely, it’s no surprise if the goals it should help implement and monitor aren’t being met.

Falling short

The UN Secretary-General’s 2026 report on the SDGs made clear how delivery is falling short. It found that out of 139 targets with reliable trend data, only 15 per cent are on track, while a further 15 per cent have regressed below their 2015 baselines.

But rather than take responsibility for their failures, powerful states are using the lack of progress as a pretext to demand less ambition. The USA has dismissed the SDGs as an infringement on national sovereignty. Speaking at an event during the Forum, Russia’s representative said that the goals’ ambitions had proven ‘quite far away from reality’, blaming the design of the goals rather than states’ failure to deliver. For many states, an ambitious rights-based agenda is no longer a promise to keep, but a commitment to be backed away from.

Yet evidence suggests that when political will exists, change can come. The UN’s Asia-Pacific review presented at the HLPF showed that the number of children in child labour fell from 49 to 28 million between 2020 and 2025. What holds back achievement of the SDGs is not flawed design, but political choices.

As negotiations begin on what comes after the goals’ 2030 deadline, some states and UN officials favour extending the current goals, on the reasonable logic that reopening them in today’s political climate risks producing something weaker. But the framework agreed in 2015 wasn’t built for a world of growing authoritarianism, accelerating climate breakdown, coordinated backlash against gender equality, increasing militarisation, collapsing multilateral cooperation and rapid technological development. A post-2030 agenda will have to take account of all this, along with the financial strain on the multilateral system.

Forus, a network of national civil society platforms, has mapped three scenarios for the post-2030 process – continuity, reset or fragmentation – and insists that whichever prevails, accountability, civic space and financing reform must sit at the centre. Several upcoming moments will reveal the direction of travel. Next year’s Commission on the Status of Women and Economic and Social Council’s Youth Forum, along with the SDG Summit and the 2028 Pact for the Future review, all offer opportunities that must be seized to bring civil society into the process, identify where implementation is failing and match ambition with achievement.

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

Observing some of the changes over the last year and a half in the Government of the USA, one question that comes to mind is whether the greatest democracy in the world turning into a dictatorship? And, if so, how is this possible in a country with one of the most articulate and thoughtful constitutions ever written –a constitution which clearly sets out checks and balances precisely to avoid undue concentration of power.

Daud Khan

First an amusing anecdote from the past on the topic on the US Constitution.

Kurt Friedrich Gödel – mathematician, cosmologist, and philosopher – was one of the greatest minds of the last century. After the takeover of Austria by Hitler, Gödel, who was an Austrian national, was targeted by the Nazis. In 1939 he moved to the USA and ended up at the Institute of Advanced Studies in Princeton where his good friend, Einstein, was based.

After the war, in 1947, Gödel decided to apply for US citizenship. This involved, inter alia, an examination on the Constitution of the USA. As could be expected of someone of his intellect, Gödel did not study the document as others would – trying to memorize the main points and maybe reading some commentaries. He made a careful and thorough review and found what he called an “inner contradiction”. He told Einstein and Oskar Morgenstern, another friend at the Institute, about this flaw. A flaw that would allow the U.S.A. to legally become a fascist state!

At the citizenship exam, presided over by a Federal judge, and with Morgenstern and Einstein as witnesses, everything went smoothly until Gödel was asked by the judge where he was from. Gödel explained that he was from Austria, a country that had been a republic, but had a constitution that allowed it to become a dictatorship.

The judge commented that thankfully this could not happen in the USA. due to its constitution. Gödel response was basically that it could happen and that he could “prove it”. Luckily, the judge was perceptive enough to understand what was going on – that this clearly brilliant man was going to take him into a discussion that would prove complex and complicated. He did not pursue the matter of the Constitution any further, moved on to other routine questions, came up with positive response to the application for citizenship.

Gödel never wrote up his findings on the “inner contradiction”; neither did Morgenstern or Einstein. Most likely, the inner contradiction had to with Article V of the Constitution that sets out the procedures for changing the constitution – but without setting any substantive limits. So progressive change in Article V could change the constitution to make the USA a dictatorship.

But coming to the present.

I have just finished the book “Regime Change” by Haberman and Swan. According to the authors, President Trump has managed to bend the entire Government of the USA, and its institutions, to implementing his wishes. The House of Representatives and the Senate no longer act as a separate pillar of Government, providing checks and balances on the executive power of the President; likewise, the courts, which have progressively been filled with Trump nominees, may hem and haw, but have largely not provided a firm barrier to him. The top universities in the world, such as Columbia, have caved in to his demands. Law firms have forked out millions to stay onside and media companies have taken off the air the shows that criticized or made fun of President Trump. Even iconic cultural institution such as the Smithsonian Institution and the Kennedy Center have had to make changes at his behest.

Needless to say, there has been pushback. The Supreme Court struck down several initiatives, such as those on tariffs. However, the administration has been creative to work around these, using laws and regulations designed for other times and other situations. Others have also resisted. Harvard University lead a spirited fight against the bullying by the President’s henchmen; several famous artists refused to perform at the Kennedy Center after it was renamed the Trump-Kennedy Center; and many journalists, despite repeated insults and demeaning comments from President at press conferences, continue to write articles and OpEds that criticize the President’s actions and decisions

But despite the opposition, it is difficult to ignore how easily authoritarianism has taken root in such an open and liberal society as the USA. And, it has been done not by changing the constitutions, not by overthrowing institutions, and not by a coup d’état. Rather it has been done by browbeating, insulting and bullying people who run the very institution that should set limits on Presidential action.

And this leads to the next question: How was it possible that people who are among richest, the most powerful, the best informed, and the most qualified, not only allowed themselves to be subject to such harassment but actually went on to do what was asked of them? Was it that they wanted to accumulate more wealth and power? Was it the fear of being excluded from the “power circles” that matter?

Whatever, the reason, surely they are aware of what they are doing? Surely they understand that their actions ware undermining democracy, liberalism and the rule of law – values that underpinned the domestic and international order that led to an unprecedented period of growth and peace. Surely they know that silence and not speaking is tantamount to complicity?

Daud Khan is a retired UN staff based in Rome. He has degrees in economics from LSE and Oxford, where he was a Rhodes Scholar; and a degree in Environmental Management from Imperial College London.

IPS UN Bureau

 
CIVICUS discusses struggles for abortion rights in Liechtenstein with Gabriella Alvarez-Hummel, a journalist and reproductive rights activist who works with Fristenlösung für Liechtenstein, an organisation that campaigns for the introduction of a legal time-limit abortion model.

Gabriella Alvarez-Hummel

What’s the current state of abortion rights in Liechtenstein?

Liechtenstein has one of the strictest abortion bans in Europe. Abortion is only allowed in cases of rape or life-threatening circumstances. As a result, women travel abroad for abortions, usually to Austria or Switzerland. Since 2015, doing so is no longer a criminal offence under Liechtenstein law. But those seeking abortion care are entirely on their own. An information ban – the last of its kind in Europe – keeps them from learning what their options are and where to go. Many don’t realise that since the law changed in 2015, only doctors face criminal liability, not patients. But the fear of legal consequences persists regardless. The ban is also inherently stigmatising, and many internalise that stigma.

Women who travel abroad to get an abortion must pay for the procedure in advance, all while racing against the clock, as neighbouring countries only allow medication abortions up to eight or nine weeks of pregnancy and surgical abortions up to 12 weeks.

Once abroad, the obstacles continue, because despite more liberal laws, access isn’t seamless in neighbouring countries. In the Austrian province of Vorarlberg, only a single clinic performs abortions. On the Swiss side, the regional hospital in Grabs, just across the border, doesn’t perform them. Most women travel to Chur or St Gallen, a 45-minute drive if you have a car. Simply getting this information often takes call after call.

What are women’s rights groups doing to change the law?

A popular initiative is under way that calls for the decriminalisation of abortion up to 12 weeks, repeal of the national information ban and health insurance coverage for the procedure.

We have collected almost 5,000 signatures, five times the number required, equivalent to a quarter of all eligible voters.

A parliamentary vote on the legalisation bill is scheduled for 2 September, to be followed by a popular vote. Prince-Regent Alois must then sign the bill into law, but he has already said he won’t and will use his veto instead.

How have activists responded to the veto threat?

The veto threat came as no surprise, given that the Prince-Regent took the same stance on the same issue 15 years ago. It should be noted, however, that he has traditionally shown restraint. He’s only ever announced he’d use his veto power once before. That time, it sparked a year-long discussion about the Prince-Regent’s veto rights before over 75 per cent endorsed him in a public vote.

While his veto power does have democratic legitimacy, the timing is troubling. He made his announcement before a single signature had been collected, representing a problematic interference in the democratic process and public debate.

Ultimately, this pre-emptive strike backfired. Instead of deterring people, it energised them, motivating a surge of volunteers whose dedication helped us secure a historic number of signatures.

For now, we’re focused on the upcoming vote. A resounding, high-turnout victory would send an undeniable message about what people want, hopefully putting pressure on the Prince-Regent to reconsider. He would be using his veto for the first time, against women’s rights of all things.

What other obstacles stand in the way of reform?

On top of the veto threat, the prime minister, who happens to be the first woman to hold the office, has publicly called the initiative unnecessary, arguing that women can simply cross the border for an abortion. That shows how little she understands what those affected go through.

With the country’s two most powerful people opposed, the odds look stacked against reform. Yet a recent poll found that over 70 per cent support legalisation. The public seems to be on the side of not criminalising anyone for having an abortion.

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

GET IN TOUCH
Website
Instagram
Gabriella Alvarez-Hummel/Instagram

SEE ALSO
Gender rights: rollback and resistance CIVICUS | State of Civil Society Report 2026
Malta: ‘Young people see the value in protecting women’s health over enforcing religious doctrine’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Natalia Psaila Stabile 29.May.2026
France: ‘The inclusion of the right to abortion in the constitution is a true feminist victory’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Floriane Volt 17.Apr.2024

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.”

IPS UN Bureau Report

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau

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

 
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.

GET IN TOUCH
Website
Facebook
Instagram
LinkedIn

SEE ALSO
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

Follow @IPSNews
  

 
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.

GET IN TOUCH
En Voz Alta/Twitter
Rumbo Plural/Twitter

SEE ALSO
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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

 
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.

GET IN TOUCH
Instagram
Hugo González/Instagram
Hugo González/LinkedIn

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau

A man walks past a sign reading 'unjustly persecuted' featuring journalist José Rubén Zamora, former CICIG lawyer Claudia González and Maya leaders Luis Pacheco and Héctor Chaclan in a Guatemala City, 12 May 2026. Credit: Johan Ordóñez/AFP

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

José Rubén Zamora, founder of elPeriódico, Guatemala’s now-defunct leading investigative newspaper, spent 1,295 days in detention before a court granted him house arrest on 12 February. He endured long stretches of solitary confinement in a military jail, held in near-constant darkness and subjected to treatment that six UN experts warned could amount to torture. His offence was simply doing his job. For decades, he exposed the corrupt dealings of Guatemala’s economic and political elites. Prosecutors are still trying to send him back to prison.

Police arrested Zamora in July 2022 on a complaint brought by a former banker who was under investigation for financial crimes, following Zamora’s reporting on corruption under then President Alejandro Giammattei. Within months, elPeriódico had shut down following intimidation of its advertisers and criminalisation of its staff. A court convicted Zamora of money laundering in June 2023, and when an appeals court overturned the conviction, a second case kept him in jail anyway. Courts ordered his release several times, and each time appeals chambers reversed those decisions. The Supreme Court transferred a judge who ruled to free him to a court in another part of Guatemala. At least 10 lawyers who took up his defence were forced to abandon it under pressure. Some were prosecuted and jailed.

In May 2024, the UN Working Group on Arbitrary Detention declared Zamora’s detention arbitrary and retaliatory and recommended his immediate release. It took almost two more years for him to be allowed home. In March, the Supreme Court voided the rulings that had returned him to prison, finding they violated due process. The Constitutional Court heard the prosecution’s latest appeal to send him back to jail in June, but has yet to issue its ruling.

The machinery of impunity

Zamora’s ordeal is no aberration; it’s how captured institutions are designed to work. The Guatemalan state has long been in the hands of what Guatemalans call ‘the pact of the corrupt’, a coalition of business leaders, drug traffickers, military officers and politicians that has captured the justice system to guarantee their own impunity. Anyone who threatens that arrangement risks prosecution on fabricated charges, reinforced by coordinated smear campaign. This includes journalists who investigate corruption, judges and prosecutors who pursue it, and Indigenous, land rights and climate activists who mobilise against its consequences. The aim, as a Guatemalan civil society leader put it, is to instil fear so nobody dares question anything. Over 100 people, including around 50 judges and prosecutors, have fled into exile rather than face trumped-up charges.

Because the justice system serves the corrupt pact rather than the law, any serious attempt to dismantle corruption has required external support. In 2006, the UN and the Guatemalan government agreed to establish the International Commission against Impunity in Guatemala (CICIG). Over 12 years, CICIG and the Public Prosecutor’s Office investigated over 70 complex criminal structures and brought charges against more than 1,540 people, including former presidents, ministers, members of Congress and business figures. This challenged the perception that the powerful were untouchable.

But success sealed its fate. When CICIG investigated sitting president Jimmy Morales in 2017, he moved to destroy it, refusing to renew its mandate and appointing a compliant attorney general, Consuelo Porras. President Giammattei reappointed Porras, who prosecuted or forced out dozens of judges and prosecutors who had worked with CICIG. She turned the Public Prosecutor’s Office into an instrument of persecution while dismissing 74 per cent of the complaints filed with it without investigating them. By the time her term ended in May, over 40 states had sanctioned her and some associates. The institution built to prosecute crime had become the state’s key tool for committing it.

New president, same system

Guatemalans elected Bernardo Arévalo in 2023 with a mandate to dismantle this system, but the system has consistently tried to disable him. His unexpected win – he scraped into the runoff largely because the establishment had not seen him as a serious enough threat to block – triggered what civil society described as an attempted electoral coup, with spurious legal complaints, raids on his party’s headquarters and at least two credible assassination plots. It took 106 days of peaceful resistance led by Indigenous authorities to ensure he was sworn in.

But taking office was not the same as taking power. Arévalo’s party had only 23 of 160 congressional seats, and its legal status was subsequently cancelled by judicial order. Congress blocked the legislative change that would have allowed him to dismiss Porras, and the Supreme Court, 13 of whose judges were selected in 2024 through a process stacked with candidates tied to corruption networks, refused to lift her immunity. Throughout Arévalo’s term, the Public Prosecutor’s Office continued to criminalise dissent and repeatedly tried to strip Arévalo of immunity.

A narrow window

But Porras’s term eventually expired, and his successor, Gabriel García Luna, a career judge with no ties to corruption networks, has moved quickly, dismissing prosecutors linked to Porras and closing the special prosecutor’s office that fabricated cases against Zamora and many others. His arrival offers the first genuine opening in eight years. But it’s a narrow one. Congress remains in opposition hands, and the Constitutional Court, the Comptroller General’s Office and the electoral authority are all due for renewal this year. Corrupt interests are well placed to exploit these processes to entrench their grip.

Much now depends on whether Arévalo throws his political weight behind García Luna’s efforts to rebuild the institution Porras weaponised, and whether the bodies up for renewal can be kept out of the corrupt pact’s hands. The clearest sign of change will come if Zamora and the dozens of others criminalised for exposing corruption and defending rights no longer face prosecution, and instead their persecutors face justice.

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

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

 
CIVICUS discusses the prospects for elections in Serbia with Rasa Nedeljkov, Programme Director at the Center for Research, Transparency and Accountability, a civil society organisation that monitors electoral processes and the rule of law in Serbia.

Rasa Nedeljkov

How has President Vučić responded to demands for elections?

Vučić committed to holding early elections in 2026 under pressure from over a year of mass protests. His announcement came with no date for dissolving parliament or his resignation, amid speculation that he could return as prime minister.

Vučić has deliberately dragged his feet because he wants to ensure that when they happen, his party cannot lose. Meanwhile, the government has systematically worsened conditions for elections. Independent media are being suffocated. University professors who supported student protests are being fired. Justice officials who show independence are being replaced by more obedient ones. Hate campaigns against civil society, journalists, opposition parties and students are intensifying. The plan has been transparent: call elections only once the environment is so controlled that they cannot bring real change.

This strategy reveals the fundamental collapse of democratic standards in Serbia. Democracy requires genuine competition, and competition is genuine only when the government can lose. Vučić is building the opposite, putting in place a system where elections are empty rituals that rubber-stamp predetermined outcomes. Every month of delay has bought time to consolidate control and eliminate remaining spaces for independent voices.

What are the challenges with elections in Serbia?

Elections are being voided of substance through the systematic disregard, misuse and selective enforcement of laws and rules, all with the goal of turning elections into empty rituals.

We are witnessing harsher voter intimidation, more elaborate political clientelism, more brazen abuse of public resources and increasingly overt violence on election day. Our observers have been physically attacked, with police looking on.

Elections are still held, but the quality of the process is severely damaged. Electoral corruption takes countless forms, including interference in elections by organised crime and capture of institutions. And it’s protected by impunity. The state apparatus refuses to prosecute it.

Serbia is becoming an electoral autocracy. Unlike democracies, where governments lose elections, in electoral autocracies only opposition parties can lose.

How is the government attacking civil society?

Fourteen months ago, police raided our office and remained on-site for 28 hours, copying almost 10,000 pages of financial documents. This was turned into a spectacle for state-controlled media, which branded us a ‘criminal gang of foreign mercenaries money-laundering millions of dollars’. Three other civil society organisations in Belgrade were raided on the same day. We still haven’t heard from the prosecutor’s office, and we are certain our papers were perfectly clean.

Yet the assault continues through narrative and threat. Senior ruling party officials and pro-government media regularly label us as behind-the-scenes organisers of a ‘colour revolution against Serbia’. We live in constant uncertainty, never knowing if another raid or something worse is coming. The strategy is clear: to exhaust civil society financially and psychologically and make donors and partners fear any association with us. It’s institutional intimidation dressed in the language of law enforcement.

Can protests bring lasting institutional change?

The protests are the best thing that has happened to Serbia in a long time. Sparked by the collapse of a railway station canopy in Novi Sad in November 2024, which killed 16 people, they began as a student-led demand for accountability and grew into a nationwide movement. Our society had sunk into political apathy, a feeling that there was no alternative, not even a slight possibility of change. The endurance of Serbian people in demanding the restoration of the rule of law, in the face of growing repression and toxic propaganda, has been remarkable. Society has been evolving politically, showing more solidarity and resilience. People have begun to imagine that change is possible.

At the same time, the protests have made painfully visible how deep state capture runs, and how far Serbia is from having accountable institutions. How do you translate months of mobilisation into lasting change? Nobody has a complete answer. When we get there, the transition will be complex and exhausting. We should closely watch neighbouring Hungary. Viktor Orbán’s and Vučić’s styles of authoritarian, grand-corruption-driven rule are very much alike. However, Hungary is an EU member, which may make a big difference.

We believe it’s important that this period, rather than the moment elections are officially called, be used for preparation, including by recruiting and training people to serve as election observers and members of polling boards, and building the logistics needed to cover polling stations nationwide. The goal has to be readiness, so whenever elections are called, the infrastructure of oversight is already in place.

What’s the role of the EU in Serbia’s democratic future?

Serbia needs more international support and pressure, and the EU is the most crucial lever. Neighbouring countries are making progress towards EU membership. Serbia is stuck. Without the EU perspective, all potential outcomes for Serbia look murky.

Our current government is far closer to China and Russia than to Europe, as its propaganda and rhetoric make abundantly clear. It wants only the financial benefits of EU membership, not the accountability that comes with it. It wants EU money without EU standards. That’s not a sustainable position, but without stronger international pressure, it may be the path Serbia remains on.

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

GET IN TOUCH
Website
Bluesky
Facebook
Instagram
Threads
TikTok
Twitter
YouTube

SEE ALSO
Serbia: ‘Social media are more trustworthy than much of official media, a disturbing sign of state capture’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Marija Babić 29.Jun.2026
Serbia: ‘We haven’t inherited democracy, so we’ve had to reinvent it ourselves’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Mihajlo Matković 06.Dec.2025
Serbia’s suspicious election CIVICUS Lens 26.Jan.2024

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

Pride Parade participants march on the Elisabeth bridge in Budapest, Hungary on 27 June 2026. Credit: Attila Kisbenedek/AFP

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

On the morning of 28 June, riot police sealed off Taksim Square with iron barriers and enforced bans on all weekend gatherings in Istanbul. Marchers pressed ahead anyway, re-emerging from side streets each time police dispersed them. By the end of the day police had detained at least 50 people, including a journalist. It was Istanbul Pride’s 24th edition, and the 12th year running that the authorities banned it outright.

Homosexuality is not illegal in Turkey, so the state cannot prosecute people for who they are. Instead, it punishes them for making themselves visible. Authorities ban marches on ‘public morality’ grounds, block access to the social media accounts of LGBTQI+ organisations and put activists on trial for ‘obscenity’.

The pattern repeats in country after country. For a movement that spent decades making progress in winning recognition of rights, this Pride season tells a story of regression. A concerted backlash is clawing back territory once claimed, and Pride has again become a protest.

Much of the current wave of regression is a direct response to the gains LGBTQI+ movements made over previous decades. Anti-discrimination laws, recognition of equal marriage rights and growing public visibility have given opponents a clear target to mobilise against, and governments under economic or political pressure have found a convenient scapegoat in the LGBTQI+ community.

Authoritarian and populist leaders, facing discontent over corruption, inflation and unemployment, redirect public anger towards a minority that can be attacked without political cost, while conservative religious institutions find in opposition to LGBTQI+ rights, and particularly trans rights, a rallying cause that restores their claim to define society’s moral order. The result is a mutually reinforcing alliance between political power and religious conservatism, dressed up as the defence of children, the family and national identity.

Existence criminalised

A growing number of states are going further, criminalising not only LGBTQI+ people’s visibility but their very existence. Four West African states have criminalised consensual same-sex relations in the past two years, framing their move as a defence of national sovereignty against western influence. Mali’s military government criminalised homosexuality in December 2024 and Burkina Faso’s junta followed in September 2025. Niger’s new penal code, adopted last month, imposes punishment of up to 20 years in prison. Within weeks, media reported at least 40 arrests, the suspension of HIV prevention services and people fleeing the country.

Electoral democracies aren’t immune. In Senegal, parliament doubled the maximum sentence for ‘unnatural acts’ to 10 years in March, and over 300 ‘suspected homosexuals’ have reportedly been arrested in the past few months. Ghana’s parliament passed a bill imposing jail sentences on anyone who identifies as LGBTQI+ and requiring people to report prohibited activities to the authorities. President John Mahama has yet to sign it into law, but the debate about the bill has already fuelled a rise in blackmail, evictions and workplace discrimination.

The model is Uganda’s 2023 Anti-Homosexuality Act, which includes the death penalty for ‘aggravated homosexuality’ and punishes the vaguely defined crime of ‘promoting’ homosexuality with up to 20 years in prison.

All these laws, marketed as a rejection of foreign interference and imported values, have been promoted with foreign money. US-based conservative groups such as the American Center for Law and Justice and Family Watch International have played a key role in funding anti-rights advocacy. Days after passing its bill, Ghana’s parliament hosted the African Inter-Parliamentary Conference on Family Values and Sovereignty, a platform with documented ties to those groups that has promoted Uganda’s law as a template for the continent.

Consensus in retreat

US anti-rights groups have their president’s ear. Since returning to office, Donald Trump has signed a series of executive orders rolling back federal protections, particularly targeting transgender people. Private companies heard the message. Major events including NYC Pride and San Francisco Pride lost sponsors in 2025, and Tampa Pride had to cancel its 2026 parade.

For years, activist groups such as New York’s Reclaim Pride Coalition accused corporations of pinkwashing, that is, turning Pride into a corporate vehicle without advancing demands for rights. Many sponsors are now gone, but for the wrong reasons. Whatever its motives, sponsorship functioned as a seal of approval from mainstream institutions. Money withdrawn out of political fear takes with it more than event budgets; it erodes a social consensus that took decades to build.

Marching for those who can’t

In this context, the year’s biggest marches have become acts of political defiance. A million people marched in São Paulo under the theme ‘The street summons, the ballot box confirms’, ahead of Brazil’s October general election. In Bangkok, an all-time record half a million people marched a year after Thailand’s marriage equality law took effect, a testament to what legal recognition can do for a community’s visibility.

On 27 June, tens of thousands joined the 31st Budapest Pride, the first held since voters removed the right-wing populist government that repeatedly banned it. Organisers are treating this as a starting point, pressing the new government with a list of 14 demands that begins with repealing a 2021 ‘anti-LGBT propaganda’ law the European Union’s top court has ruled incompatible with equality and human dignity. Hungary shows that change is possible after all.

In places like Indonesia, Iraq, Niger and Uganda, among many more, there’s no Pride march to ban, because holding one is unthinkable. Even private organising now risks prosecution. In those places, people are looking outward, hoping that a crowd marching freely somewhere else will march for them too. That’s the duty of Pride season for those still free to gather: to mobilise both for themselves and for the many being forced to hide who they are.

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

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

 
CIVICUS speaks about efforts to use the 2026 FIFA World Cup to highlight Mexico’s enforced disappearance crisis with Ana Enamorado, a Honduran national who continues to search for her missing son in Mexico, and founder of the Regional Network of Migrant Families.

Ana Enamorado

How did your son Óscar go missing, and what’s known about his case?

My son Óscar was 19 when he went missing. He left Honduras in 2008, fleeing the violence, and was in the USA when some young men invited him to Mexico with the promise of a job, a good wage, an education and the chance to see me again. It was all a deception.

Those were the years of the war on drugs that President Felipe Calderón declared in 2006, when the cartels began forcibly recruiting young people to join their ranks. Óscar was taken to El Carrizo, in the municipality of San Sebastián del Oeste, Jalisco state. It’s an isolated place with no public transport and severe deprivation, which makes it very difficult to escape. I last spoke to him on 19 January 2010, and I haven’t heard his voice since.

Little is known about his case, and the little that’s known is marred by negligence. In December 2009, weeks before his last call, charred bodies were found in the same place, but the investigation led nowhere. In 2013, forensic authorities in Jalisco attempted to hand over some ashes to me without any DNA evidence to confirm they were my son’s. The forensic institute went so far as to cremate around 1,560 unidentified bodies in less than a decade, a practice that has left so many families with no way of knowing the truth.

The Mexican state only began searching for Óscar in 2020, 10 years after I reported him missing. To this day, I am still searching for him and demanding justice.

What obstacles do migrant families face when searching for missing loved ones?

A major obstacle is the indifference of the authorities in the country of origin, which in my case is Honduras. We families are left on our own, with no one to guide us. The consulate should be the first authority to assist us, and it should do so quickly, because the first few hours are crucial for finding a person alive. But it rarely does so. As a result, filing a missing person report and a formal complaint becomes almost impossible. And without that, it’s not possible to open an investigation file or access our rights.

Added to this is my immigration status. Although I have been living in Mexico for 14 years, I am still considered a ‘visitor on humanitarian grounds’ and, to retain this status, I have to prove every year that my son is still missing. Having to prove my tragedy time and time again just to be able to stay revictimises me. That’s why I initiated legal proceedings against the National Institute of Migration to change my status to that of a permanent resident. However, it continues to reject my application, leaving me in a precarious situation when it comes to accessing my basic rights.

Why did you decide to protest during the World Cup?

We took to the streets of the host cities to show the other side of Mexico: the corruption, violence, impunity and the state’s indifference towards the thousands of missing people. Although the Mexican state may wish to project an image of celebration and modernity through the World Cup, there can be no World Cup celebrations against the backdrop of the humanitarian crisis caused by disappearances.

In Mexico, there are over 135,000 missing people. To put this into perspective, that number is one and a half times the capacity of the Azteca Stadium, where several matches in this World Cup have been played, including the opening match. Added to this is a forensic crisis. There are over 75,000 unidentified bodies. That is 75,000 people who did not return home and whose families continue inquiring about their whereabouts.

And the number keeps rising. We estimate that, since the World Cup began on 11 June, over 1,200 further people have gone missing. On 30 June, three teenagers aged 14 and 15 disappeared in Guadalajara, one of the host cities, in broad daylight amid streets full of celebrating crowds. The authorities believe it may have been a case of recruitment by organised crime. This practice continues unabated, and the government shows no sign of wanting to stop it or of searching for the missing people, particularly when they are migrants.

How has the Mexican government responded to the protests?

The state is uncomfortable with us taking to the streets to protest because every time we do, we expose the harsh and painful reality it wants to hide. That’s why, instead of listening to us and searching for our loved ones, it has responded with criminalisation, mockery and repression.

At her morning press conference on the day of the World Cup opening ceremony, President Claudia Sheinbaum played down our demonstration, and the Secretary of the Interior insinuated that someone was paying us to take to the streets, announcing an investigation into how we are funded. It’s an accusation that’s as painful as it’s outrageous. We have always searched for our loved ones using our own resources.

Then came the repression. Riot police cordoned us off and encircled us to prevent us from reaching the stadiums. On 30 June, on Calzada de Tlalpan, one of Mexico City’s main avenues, they assaulted and detained members of the ‘Hasta Encontrarte’ (Until we find you) collective simply for carrying images bearing the faces of their loved ones. Physical violence adds to the emotional and psychological trauma we already bear. Meanwhile, federal and state forces were deployed to ensure the safety of tourists, an effort they have never made to search for our loved ones.

What are you demanding of the government and international bodies?

We demand, first and foremost, that the Mexican state make the search for missing people a real priority. We call on President Sheinbaum to meet with the families and collectives in person to reach genuine agreements on search, location and prevention. We want to know how many people have been found alive, to have proper investigations carried out and to have trained and empathetic staff who can provide us with real answers.

But this crisis extends beyond Mexico’s borders, and the response must do the same. The United Nations Committee on Enforced Disappearances and the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights have offered their assistance. We call on the government to accept it. Such cooperation is urgent, because there are tens of thousands of people of other nationalities who have gone missing in Mexico, and searching for them requires the activation of international mechanisms. Many are women who have been trafficked, and most are taken out of the country, so finding them depends on governments working together.

Finally, we call on the international community to not turn a blind eye to what’s happening, and on the media to help us amplify our demands, so our voices reach the world just as World Cup goals do.

We won’t rest until we find them. They were taken alive, and we want them back alive.

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

GET IN TOUCH
Facebook

SEE ALSO
Solidarity World Cup CIVICUS
Mexico: ‘The World Cup is an opportunity to raise global awareness of the crisis of enforced disappearances’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Angélica Orozco 28.Jun.2026
The disappeared: Mexico’s industrial-scale human rights crisis CIVICUS Lens 22.Apr.2025

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

Credit: Connie France/AFP

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

Right-wing candidate Keiko Fujimori has won Peru’s presidential runoff, narrowly defeating leftist Roberto Sánchez to become the country’s ninth president in a decade. She inherits a system so engineered for dysfunction that rather than making compromises, she may decide the concentration of power is her only means of survival. The constitution that created this trap was written by her father.

A system built to fail

Keiko, daughter of authoritarian former president Alberto Fujimori, has finally succeeded in her fourth consecutive runoff, having lost in 2011, 2016 and 2021. She won with a margin of roughly a quarter of a percentage point over a candidate who is a close ally of jailed former president Pedro Castillo. Both sides alleged fraud, filed claims and sent their supporters onto the streets.

Peru is often described as a democracy without parties. The party system disintegrated in the 1990s and was never rebuilt. In its place came a sequence of improvised candidacies and personal electoral vehicles that rise and fall with their founders. For the first-round vote on 12 April, the largest ballot paper in Peru’s history listed 35 candidates. Fujimori came first with just 17.19 per cent. Ultimately, most Peruvians didn’t vote for either candidate who made the runoff. A president elected on that basis has a mandate so weak that rivals can dispute it from day one, and they do.

Congressional seats scatter across dozens of parties, none of which dominates. But parties can combine to reach the two-thirds threshold needed to invoke a constitutional clause to impeach and remove a president on the grounds of ‘permanent moral incapacity’, a mechanism Peru’s constitution leaves deliberately vague. The Congress elected in 2021 removed three presidents in one term.

Authoritarian incentives

The constitutional mechanism that enables political instability is the reason Fujimori’s presidency could be dangerous. As she enters office with a razor-thin margin and no congressional majority, she faces an immediate strategic choice. She can seek compromise with her opponents, but this might signal that the threat of impeachment works, inviting it. Or she can move to concentrate power and weaken the institutions that constrain the executive, denying her opponents the tools they could use to remove her.

Everything points towards the second option. Most presidents recently removed by Congress were, at the time of their removal, attempting to govern within the rules, and the rules were weaponised against them. Pedro Castillo tried a different approach, dissolving Congress pre-emptively to forestall his impeachment. He was immediately arrested and removed. A politician who has watched this dynamic consume eight predecessors might conclude that the only way to survive is to change the game.

Keiko’s father ruled Peru from 1990 to 2000 as an elected president who progressively dismantled the institutions that constrained him. Two years into his first term, citing the simultaneous crises of hyperinflation and insurgency, he dissolved Congress and suspended the constitution. The emergency was real, but it was also an opportunity. Fujimori rewrote the constitution to entrench executive power, won re-election in 1995 and then won a fraud-tainted third term before being forced from office within months. His government became synonymous with grand corruption and human rights atrocities, including the forced sterilisation of over 272,000 mostly Indigenous women. After he was forced out in 2000, he was convicted of homicide and kidnapping, and imprisoned.

The constitution Alberto Fujimori wrote to entrench his power is still in force. The moral incapacity clause that the 1993 constitution retained – useful to Fujimori when he controlled Congress – has become the primary weapon congressional majorities have used to remove president after president. The most significant recent constitutional change, the reinstatement of a two-chamber Congress, may end up increasing congressional power. This is the system Keiko now has to deal with.

The costs of dysfunction

Peru’s dysfunction has long been sustained by a comforting fiction: that while politics is chaotic, the economy runs itself. Macro fundamentals have remained relatively stable. Inflation in 2025 ran at around 1.5 per cent, and the economy grew 3.4 per cent in 2024. But economic growth has roughly halved over a decade of turmoil. Poverty, at 27.6 per cent in 2024, remains above pre-pandemic levels. Homicides stand at 10.7 per 100,000 people, alongside an epidemic of extortion.

Freedoms are deteriorating and those who protest pay the highest price. In 2025, attempts to change the pension system triggered Gen Z-led protests that quickly expressed broader anger at corruption, insecurity and political dysfunction. Security forces responded with violence. In December 2024, the CIVICUS Monitor, which tracks civic space conditions globally, downgraded Peru to repressed status, its second-worst rating, citing years of escalating state violence and the systematic harassment of human rights defenders and journalists, who political figures routinely smear as terrorists and traitors.

In March 2025, Congress passed a law giving the Peruvian Agency for International Cooperation extensive powers to control, censor and persecute civil society organisations that receive foreign funding, threatening fines of up to US$720,000 and criminalising any use of foreign funds to support legal action against the Peruvian state. It is, in effect, a law against accountability.

Danger ahead

Keiko Fujimori ran a law-and-order campaign under the slogan ‘Fujimori returns, order returns’, casting the fight against organised crime as a sequel to her father’s 1990s war against insurgency and promising mass deployments of police and military forces. Her party championed a 2025 amnesty law shielding security forces and civilian armed groups from prosecution for disappearances, killings and torture during that conflict, in direct defiance of the Inter-American Court of Human Rights. Keiko has been evasive about her father’s atrocities and has recast human rights as a matter of access to basic services rather than accountability for past abuses. Her record offers no grounds for optimism about civic space or democratic norms.

Keiko’s father justified breaking the rules that constrained him by pointing to insurgency and economic collapse. Keiko faces no insurgency and no hyperinflation, so if she moves to concentrate power, she will have to find her own justification, perhaps in a crime wave, a security emergency or a conspiracy of her enemies. The Fujimorist playbook could come back with a vengeance.

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

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

A protester holds up a placard thar reads ‘Resist, don’t compromise’ at a mass march held under the slogan ‘The people are hungry, the prisons are full’ through popular neighborhoods in Tunis, Tunisia, on 16 May 2026. Credit: Chedly Ben Ibrahim/NurPhoto via AFP

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Jul 1 2026 (IPS)

In May, Tunisian lawyer and journalist Sonia Dahmani was handed her second conviction of the year. Her latest sentence, a two-year jail term, came in reaction to her criticism of poor prison conditions. She previously received an 18-month sentence for calling out the government’s anti-migrant policies. Dahmani faces five more charges under a 2022 cybercrime law that criminalises the spreading of what it calls ‘false information’.

Dahmani is one of many victims of President Kais Saied, who continues to steer Tunisia in an ever more repressive direction. Saied won a free and fair election in 2019, but in 2021 he removed the prime minister and parliament, ruling by decree instead. The following year, he rewrote the constitution to give himself near-absolute power, approved in a low-turnout referendum held after key opposing voices had been jailed. When he won his second term in 2024, credible opponents had been criminalised and barred from running. It’s all a long way from the democracy that sprang into life after the 2011 Jasmine Revolution.

Growing criminalisation

Saied’s repression operates behind a facade of legality, with the criminal justice system serving as a tool of presidential control. In 2022, Saied sacked judges who disagreed with him and gave himself the power to control judicial appointments. Courts now do his bidding and jail opponents. At least nine staff of civil society organisations have received prison sentences so far this year.

Journalists Borhen Bssais and Mourad Zeghidi received three-and-a-half-year sentences on trumped-up money laundering and tax evasion charges in January. In 2025, 37 journalists, lawyers, opposition politicians and other dissidents were found guilty of terrorism and plotting to destabilise Tunisia. Following a mass trial, some were given decades-long jail terms. A November 2025 appeal court hearing that defendants weren’t allowed to attend upheld almost all convictions and increased some sentences.

The latest phase of the crackdown is targeting anti-racism campaigners. Since 2023, Saied has deployed the populist strategy of attacking Black African migrants to distract from the economic problems he’s failed to address. He’s repeatedly accused migrants of being responsible for crime and disorder, fuelling violence against them from security forces and the public.

Saied has branded organisations that stand up for migrants’ rights as traitors and foreign agents. Vilification prepares the ground for incarceration. In March, Saadia Mosbah, president of Mnemty, a Tunisian association that fights against racism, received a staggering eight-year sentence on bogus illicit enrichment and money laundering charges. Five of her colleagues were convicted alongside her.

Mnemty faces the threat of being closed down, part of an assault on associational freedoms that has seen dozens of other civil society organisations suspended. Hundreds more could face the same treatment. In 2024, courts ordered the closure of the Tunisian Council for Refugees. Last November, two of its leaders, Mustapha Djemali and Abderrazek Krimi, received two-year sentences for offences under a 1975 law on passports and travel documents.

No one appears to be beyond the state’s reach. In March, a judge ordered the pretrial detention of seven people on money laundering charges for their involvement in the first Global Sumud Flotilla, which last October attempted to take humanitarian aid to Gaza’s besieged population. Meanwhile being one of the organisations that won the 2015 Nobel Peace Prize offered no protection for the Tunisian League for Human Rights. The group was slapped with a one-month suspension in April.

For civil society organisations, suspension marks the start of a process that can lead to dissolution. Civil society organisations also face asset freezes, lawsuits and tax investigations. The combination of criminalisation, legal harassment and top-down vilification results in a pervasive chilling effect.

Judges that don’t do Saied’s bidding are also at risk. Anas Hmedi, President of the Association of Tunisian Magistrates, has been subjected to criminal proceedings since 2022, with a summons on fresh charges issued in January.

Europe says little

Tunisians continue to protest. Hundreds marched in the capital, Tunis, on 6 June to demand media freedoms and the release of political prisoners. Protesters in May also called out Saied’s failure to address the economic crisis. But they need international support.

Last October, Saber Ben Chouchane was handed a death sentence for criticising Saied on Facebook. Authorities interpreted his posts as constituting crimes of attempting to change the form of government, insulting the president and spreading false information. But this time the repression backfired. The severity of the sentence caused such an international outcry that Saied was forced to pardon and release him. This shows that international criticism can make a difference.

The European Parliament spoke up last November, passing a resolution calling for the release of political prisoners and the repeal of the false information provisions. But such gestures have limits, as shown by Saied’s dismissal of the resolution as ‘blatant interference’.

Resistance to autocratisation takes more than words, but the EU isn’t acting. It’s in a weak position towards Saied because it pays the Tunisian government to help prevent migrants crossing into Europe, and in April 2025, it classified Tunisia as a safe country of origin. This means it believes migrants can be deported there on the basis that they won’t be at risk of persecution, a claim that rings hollow for the many from civil society now in jail.

EU policies have contributed to the rising number of migrants in Tunisia, since people can make it there but no further. This makes them a ready target for Saied’s scapegoating. The EU must acknowledge its responsibility and change course. It must recognise that migrants’ rights in Tunisia aren’t being protected and that, in the current situation, only civil society can do that. In its dealings with Tunisia, it must insist that civil society freedoms are respected and people are free both to defend migrants’ rights and criticise the government’s decisions. Continuing silence will make it complicit in the consolidation of a dictatorship.

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

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

People hold electronic candles during a vigil at Liberty Square in Taipei on the anniversary of China’s 1989 crackdown on democracy protesters in Beijing's Tiananmen Square, 4 June 2026. Credit: Cheng-Chia Huang/AFP

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Jun 19 2026 (IPS)

When performance artist Sammu Chen tried to tie a red thread to a streetpost, plainclothes police stopped him before he could finish. Chen has twice been detained for his symbolic acts of commemoration of the 4 June 1989 Tiananmen Square Massacre, when Chinese authorities killed hundreds, perhaps thousands, to crush democracy protests.

The day used to one of commemoration in Hong Kong. Tens of thousands used to attend the mass vigil. But authorities banned it during the COVID-19 pandemic and haven’t permitted it since.

Chen’s attempted act of commemoration took place near the former site of the banned vigil. Close by, police moved on another artist marking the anniversary by holding a question mark-shaped balloon. In recent years, other symbolic acts, such as silently holding candles or flowers, have led to arrests. The organisation that used to hold the vigil closed itself down in 2021 following police investigations and prosecution of its leaders.

China’s campaign to stamp out demands for democracy in Hong Kong doesn’t stop at its borders, as events in the UK recently made plain.

UK spy network

Last month, two men with dual British and Chinese nationality were found guilty of spying on Hong Kong democracy activists in the UK. The case showed how far the Chinese state is prepared to go to silence Hong Kong’s diaspora.

Chi Leung Wai, who worked for the UK’s Border Force, and Chung Biu Yuen, who worked for the Hong Kong Economic Trade Office in London, were found to have carried out shadow policing operations to gather information on exiles. The spies also targeted UK politicians critical of China.

One of their targets was Nathan Law. Law was a student leader and politician active in Hong Kong’s democracy movement, which mobilised in mass protests in 2014 and again in 2019. Having spent time in jail in 2017 for his role in protests, he headed into exile in 2020 when the authorities introduced a draconian National Security Law.

In 2023, Law was one of eight activists the Hong Kong police targeted with arrest warrants, with a bounty of around US$130,000 offered as a reward. Hong Kong police took Law’s parents and brother in for questioning, and in 2024, authorities revoked his passport and those of other exiled activists.

Escalating transnational repression

Such is the level of repression China exerts in Hong Kong that activism can only be sustained among the diaspora. But while many states are exerting transnational repression against diasporas and exiles, the spy case shows that China remains the world leader in this field.

Hong Kong police issued a further round of arrest warrants and bounties against six more exiled activists in December 2024 and announced bounties on another 19 in July 2025. Hong Kong authorities have also started targeting exiles with spurious tax demands and may be gearing up to weaponise international anti-money laundering cooperation agreements against them.

Exiles’ families in Hong Kong aren’t spared. In February, Kwok Yin-sang, father of exiled activist Anna Kwok, was handed an eight-month sentence for violating national security laws after he tried to cash in her education savings insurance policy.

Around 100,000 people have fled Hong Kong to the UK, which controlled the territory before handing it over to China in 1997. That makes them a particular target. In 2024, addresses of Hong Kong citizens living in the UK were published online and anti-migrant protesters were encouraged to attack them, in a move that showed all the signs of a Chinese influence operation.

Intensifying domestic repression

As a new CIVICUS report documents, repression has intensified further within Hong Kong. In 2024, authorities introduced the Safeguarding National Security Ordinance, which allows them to criminalise simple acts of dissent by claiming they constitute secession, sedition, subversion and other major crimes. They’ve used this latest law’s sweeping provisions and the 2020 National Security Law to prosecute activists, dissidents and journalists. Since 2020, Hong Kong authorities have arrested at least 365 people and convicted 174 under the two laws. People have been convicted for such trivial offences as wearing T-shirts with protest slogans.

The authorities’ determination to silence dissent was on display again in the aftermath of a horrendous apartment complex fire in November 2025, in which over 160 people died. People were arrested for social media posts calling for accountability . Student Miles Kwan Ching-fung was detained and expelled from university after starting an online petition urging an independent investigation. China’s national security office in Hong Kong warned foreign journalists about negative coverage of the government’s response.

Hong Kong once had one of Asia’s most vibrant media environments, but now it ranks 140th out of 180 on the Reporters Without Borders World Press Freedom Index. In February, media owner Jimmy Lai, whose Apple Daily newspaper championed democracy, received a 20-year sentence under the National Security Law. Lai has been detained under multiple charges since 2019, often in solitary confinement. At 78 years old with diabetes and other reported health problems, he faces dying in jail. Despite Lai’s British citizenship, China has refused international appeals for his release.

The campaign against Lai continues, with four bookshop staff arrested in March on suspicion of selling copies of his biography, deemed a seditious publication. The authorities’ attempts to suppress the book are part of their wider cultural censorship, which extends to banning films, barring publishers from book fairs and demanding the blocking of YouTube videos of the protest anthem ‘Glory to Hong Kong’. In the face of this repression, many civil society organisations, media outlets and political parties have concluded that their only option is to close down.

In these circumstances, it will continue to fall on the diaspora to keep shining a light on the suppression of basic civic freedoms in Hong Kong. States where Hong Kong’s exiles live must be alert to the threats of China’s transnational repression and defend and protect exiled activists. They must confront the full scope of this repression, or be complicit in it.

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

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

Opening ceremony of RightsCon 2025 in Taipei, Taiwan. Credit: Equality Now

By S. Mona Sinha and Mrinalini Dayal
NEW YORK, Jun 19 2026 (IPS)

RightsCon, the world’s leading summit on human rights in the digital age, has served for over a decade as a vital global gathering, bringing together civil society, academics, technologists, policymakers, and the private sector in cross-border collaboration. The abrupt cancellation of RightsCon 2026, following intervention by Zambia’s government just days before the convening was due to commence in Lusaka, should concern us all.

Worryingly, this is not an isolated disruption. It reflects a deeply troubling global pattern of shrinking civic space alongside a rapidly growing, well-resourced, and increasingly networked transnational anti-rights movement. We are calling on civil society, donors, the media, and democratic governments to take a strong stand against these coordinated efforts to undermine human rights and the forums that uphold them.

S. Mona Sinha

On May 1, RightsCon organiser and host Access Now released a statement announcing the summit, scheduled to run between May 5 and 8, could not proceed after Zambia announced it was postponing the event to ensure it “aligns with Zambia’s national values, policy priorities, and broader public interest.”

Access Now reported that on April 27, one day after the Zambian Ministry of Technology and Science had endorsed RightsCon, government officials told organisers that diplomats from China were pressuring Zambia because Taiwanese civil society participants were planning to attend. Zambia’s new conditions for allowing the conference to proceed included select topics being moderated and the exclusion of some participants, including Taiwanese civil society representatives.

Access Now has called this interference “transnational repression” and a deliberate effort to project authoritarian preferences across borders and shrink civic spheres.

Mrinalini Dayal

Digital rights advocacy is essential to advancing gender equality. That is why Equality Now co-founded the Alliance for Universal Digital Rights (AUDRi), a global campaign working toward a digital future where everyone can enjoy equal rights to safety, freedom, and dignity.

Equality Now and AUDRi were looking forward to returning to RightsCon to reconnect with allies and forge new relationships. Over 500 sessions were scheduled, including two by Equality Now on co-creating solutions to online safety and privacy challenges, and addressing the exclusion of women from artificial intelligence development and other emerging technologies.

Activists have spent months preparing, from developing proposals and collaborating with partners to organising funding, travel, and logistics. Significant time, energy, and resources have been invested that cannot be recouped.

RightsCon is one of the few annual, in-person opportunities where smaller frontline organisations meet potential funders. Locally led groups, particularly those in the Global Majority already grappling with funding cuts and rising competition for limited resources, will be hardest hit by the lost networking, visibility, and donor engagement that sustains their work.

Beyond this substantial loss is the deeply troubling shutting down of a vital locus for dialogue and collective action, alongside a growing anxiety that this will not be the last such disruption of an essential global forum.

RightsCon: a unique mix of diverse voices

RightsCon is the only global, civil society-led convening focused on the intersection of technology and human rights. Other international gatherings on the internet, emerging technologies, and digital governance are generally complex, exclusionary multilateral processes dominated by governments and the tech companies whose products and power are meant to be scrutinised.

Discussions about digital harms, inequality, and the future of our online world are often relegated to the margins or excluded completely, despite their far-reaching consequences. In contrast, RightsCon is where activists set the agenda, and lived experience is central.

Participants working towards safer, inclusive digital futures can share insights and learn from others’ successes and challenges across diverse contexts. The summit’s activist spirit prioritises voices often excluded elsewhere: women and girls, LGBTQI+ communities, Indigenous peoples, and those resisting surveillance and authoritarian rule.

Holding RightsCon in Zambia was a deliberate choice by Access Now intended to lower barriers to participation. For people from Global Majority countries, visa requirements and travel costs to Europe or North America are routinely insurmountable, and increasingly restrictive visa policies are making access evermore difficult. Equality Now staff have been unable to attend UN gatherings in New York for exactly this reason.

The impacts of widespread exclusion from attending consultative and decision-making settings cannot be overstated. That Zambia’s government sought to justify postponing RightsCon on visa grounds, saying some speakers and participants were “subject to pending administrative and security clearances”, is a stark illustration of how bureaucratic levers can be wielded to stifle dissent.

Tech-facilitated gender-based violence

In an increasingly digital world, women and girls face distinct and escalating threats to their rights, safety, privacy, and freedom. The rapid advance of technologies is opening new frontiers for human traffickers, coercers and abusers, but existing legal systems everywhere are ill-equipped to handle these multi-jurisdictional harms.

At RightsCon 2026, we were going to jointly explore legal solutions to the explosion of tech-facilitated gender-based violence. Online violence is rarely, if ever, confined to a ‘virtual’ space; it follows women and girls into their homes and workplaces, and often involves real-world harm including physical violence.

Emerging technologies such as artificial intelligence risk deepening existing inequalities and amplifying misinformation and bias, while expanding surveillance and online exploitation and abuse place fundamental rights and freedoms at risk.

Without civil society-led convenings that centre human rights in digital technologies, it becomes harder to build the intersectional, integrated, responsive movements needed to defend online rights, especially for marginalised communities.

That is precisely why losing this moment hurts so much, and why the issues that RightsCon sought to elevate, including those that governments seek to suppress, must be debated in the global spotlight. At Equality Now and AUDRi, we are planning alternative ways to hold conversations with even wider audiences than a conference format allows. We will not be deterred.

Standing against the pushback on human rights

Equality Now has been tracking the pushback against human rights advocates globally, particularly those working on gender equality and against misogyny and gender-based violence. Even knowing how organised that pushback has become, it is devastating to watch RightsCon become a casualty of it.

The cancellation and the speed of it set a worrying precedent for future international human rights convening. No forum is truly safe from political scrutiny, interference, or silencing.

This is the moment for a coordinated response. Funders must step up to prioritise digital rights and engage with organisations at the convergence of human and digital rights and development. Regional gatherings and alternative spaces need resourcing to replace this year’s RightsCon.

Democratic governments need to defend the right to assemble across borders and scrutinise international pressure that may have shaped RightsCon’s cancellation.

To our peers across the digital rights community: we stand with you. Silencing one convening will not silence the movements behind it. We will continue to organise, collaborate, and defend the freedoms and human rights at stake, because the price of allowing authoritarian pressure to determine who gets to participate, speak, and assemble is simply too high.

S. Mona Sinha, Chief Executive Officer, Equality Now, and Mrinalini Dayal, Global Coordinator of the Alliance for Universal Digital Rights (AUDRi)

IPS UN Bureau

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

The Russian state has, through legislation and stigmatising rhetoric, systematically worked to isolate the LGBTQ+ community. Graphic: IPS

By Ed Holt
BRATISLAVA, Jun 16 2026 (IPS)

LGBTQ+ people in Russia are being forced to increasingly use self-censoring strategies in their daily lives as they struggle with systemic vulnerability, one of the largest surveys of the LGBTQ+ community in the country has shown.

The latest annual survey of more than 6,000 people across Russia by the Coming Out and Sphere Foundation organisations showed that, in 2025, the situation for the community had neither improved nor significantly worsened.

But it showed a reinforcement of existing adaptive strategies among LGBTQ+ people, including selective approaches to coming out and avoidance of situations in which their gender identity or sexual orientation could be revealed.

There was also an increase in some forms of abuse, particularly in online spaces, and threats of violence, extortion, denunciation, and pressure from close circles continued to contribute significantly to the everyday vulnerability of LGBTQ+ people.

The groups say the findings reinforce the perception that LGBTQ+ people in Russia – where a series of repressive laws demonising and persecuting the community – are likely to face persistently high levels of vulnerability and threats to their safety, health, and quality of life for some time to come as they come under attack simply for being who they are.

“Our data shows that repression of LGBTQ+ people has moved from persecution for specific actions to persecution for their identity, for who a person is, not what they do. There are more and more legal cases against people who are living their lives, not doing anything against the government or trying to promote human rights,” Denis Oleinik, Executive Director at Coming Out, told IPS.

“What we have seen in 2025 is a “normalisation” or “routinisation” of catastrophe. LGBTQ+ people now just live with [the situation], with these things happening. It’s as if this has become normal life. It’s absolutely horrible,” he added.

Russia’s LGBTQ+ community has faced increasing discrimination and marginalisation for more than a decade.

While there has historically been a degree of anti-LGBTQ+ sentiment in Russian society, this has deepened significantly with the introduction of a series of laws and increasingly hostile government policies against the community.

In 2013, not long after Vladimir Putin had returned to power as president, a law was implemented banning “the propaganda of non-traditional sexual relations” to anyone under the age of 18.

The start of what critics say has been a decade-long campaign by the Kremlin to marginalise and vilify the LGBTQ+ community in the country, the law was extended in 2022 to cover all public information or activities supporting LGBTQ+ rights or displaying non-heterosexual orientation, regardless of age.

A ban on same-sex marriage was also written into the constitution, and in 2023, legislation was passed banning transgender people from officially or medically changing their gender.

The same year also saw a ruling by the Supreme Court, which outlawed the non-existent ‘international LGBT movement’, declaring it ‘extremist’ – allowing people to be fined or prosecuted for anything that could be construed as promoting “non-traditional sexual relations”.

At the same time, homophobic political discourse has become increasingly normalised, as the Kremlin has looked to promote ‘traditional family values’ in society and cast LGBTQ+ activism as a product of a degenerate West and a threat to Russia.

This has fuelled a growingly virulent and often violent rejection of LGBTQ+ people in large parts of society and has left many in the community fearing for their physical and mental health.

Grigory*, an LGBTQ+ student from a major city in Russia, said they were selective in revealing their sexuality and gender identity and that while they do not live in permanent fear of physical attacks, they have adjusted their behaviour to avoid certain locations.

“Sometimes in the evenings I avoid certain places because I could be considered stereotypically gay, perhaps because of my voice or the way I walk. I don’t hide my sexuality in public, but I don’t manifest it either,” they said, adding that this was easier for them than for some other members of the LGBTQ+ community.

“Transgender people suffer the worst problems. It must be very hard for someone to be transgender in Russia. They are so brave and strong. I’m astonished they can keep going,” they said.

The Coming Out and Sphere Foundation showed the situation for transgender people in the vast majority of indicators for quality of life, including specific measures of discrimination and well-being, was worse than for other members of the LGBTQ+ community. Notably, they were significantly more likely to face physical threats and experience actual physical violence, including sexual and domestic violence, more frequently than other LGBTQ+ people.

“A lot of trans people right now live their whole lives at home without even going outside to the shops if they have access to courier services or some relatives or friends who can help them buy what they need. We’re seeing this more and more,” said Oleinik.

Grigory said they felt, along with many others in the community, if not fear of physical attacks, a specific sense of aggression towards them.

“I feel it indirectly. It comes through government narratives in the media and in the public sphere, or in something an acquaintance might say. Queerphobia in Russia is mainly government-induced. Of course it existed before all these awful laws, but it wasn’t that strong. The laws have made it much worse,” they said.

LGBTQ+ rights campaigners say the patterns of behaviour among the community in Russia described in the report are unsurprising given the years of growing repression against them.

“When marginalisation and criminalisation on any grounds are a long-term feature of daily life, people develop ways of managing their daily exposure to harm,” Anastasia Smirnova, Deputy Director and Director of Programmes at rights group ILGA-Europe, told IPS.

She added, though, that LGBTQ+ people in Russia were facing a very specific challenge, as the Russian state has, through increasingly harsh legislation and stigmatising rhetoric, systematically worked to isolate LGBTQ+ human rights defenders and then LGBTQ+ people from each other and from everyone around them as part of a broader dismantling of the conditions for free association and dissent.

“This is what makes it different from social prejudice: it is not a reflection of society, it is a project of the state, and its target is civic life. For many people living through this, the daily acts of self-censorship described in the report are the lived reality of that project,” Smirnova said.

The potential harms of such actions on individuals and the wider community are severe, with impacts on both mental and physical health as individuals are left isolated and in some cases afraid to access healthcare.

“The impact on children is particularly severe. State propaganda targeting schools, the absence of age-appropriate relationship and sex education, and the climate of fear surrounding LGBTI topics leave young people exposed to extreme harm and isolation, especially children who are themselves LGBTI or have LGBTI family members, but also any child who might be perceived as LGBTI,” said Smirnova.

While the report did not show a significant deterioration in a number of indicators compared to previous years – in fact there was a slight improvement in some areas – its authors warn this could be misleading, highlighting that the report relied on the willingness of respondents to “share sensitive information in an increasingly oppressive environment” and that real levels of discrimination and violence could be higher.

Whatever the true levels of discrimination against the community are in Russia, many people are suffering gravely in the current environment.

Grigory said they are currently in therapy, partly to help them deal with the challenges of being LGBTQ+ in Russia.

They said that among the community, “thoughts of killing oneself and suicide attempts are pretty common.”

LGBTQ+ people and activists in touch or working directly with members of the community who spoke to IPS said substance abuse, or self-medication through unsupervised use of anti-depressants, was not uncommon either.

Trying to get help for such problems is difficult though amid mistrust of state health institutions because of widespread homo- and transphobia and concerns over staff potentially breaching patient confidentiality about sexuality.

As the pressure on LGBTQ+ people continues, many feel they have had no choice but to leave the country.

The annual report included responses from hundreds of people who had emigrated, both in 2025 and in the last few years before that.

Severe anxiety and psychological discomfort were the most commonly cited reasons for emigration (66%), while other major reasons included intensified censorship (59%), personal safety risk (57%), and increased homophobia and transphobia in Russian society (57%).

Tellingly, the majority of participants who had emigrated (63%) did not consider returning to Russia an option – a rise of 8 percentage points on the previous year.

This is perhaps unsurprising, given that many in the community see little or no prospect of the situation in Russia improving for many years.

“Many things have changed in the last few years, not just in Russia but all around the world – the far right is winning everywhere, and LGBTQ rights are under attack all over the world. I’m not expecting anything good to happen inside Russia in the next five to ten years,” said Oleinik.

But others say that despite, or perhaps because of, the report’s findings, there is an even greater need now for LGBTQ+ people in Russia and groups both inside and outside the country to do whatever they can to resist the state’s ongoing repression of the community.

“There is an important distinction to draw between acknowledging that a democratic reversal in Russia is not on the near horizon and concluding that nothing can or should be done in the meantime. The power of the Russian state, backed by resource wealth and a willingness to use every available instrument of repression, is real and cannot be minimised. And yet what we see from our position, working in support of human rights organisations, defenders, organisers, and activists, is not resignation, but realism paired with determination,” said Smirnova.

“People are continuing to organise, even though the time horizons are long and murky and the measures of ‘value’ of the organising are different from what they might be somewhere else. But keeping the lights on for the possible forms of civic engagement, critical thought, and solidarity is a form of resistance that does have long-term value,” she added.

Oleinik vowed his organisation would not be giving up on LGBTQ+ people in Russia.

“We need to continue our work, our support, because we know that LGBTQ+ people in Russia need us. Right now it might look like there is little hope of positive change, but that does not mean we should stop what we are doing,” he said.

*Name changed for security reasons

IPS UN Bureau Report

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau

Thousands gather outside Istanbul City Hall to mark one year since the arrest of Mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu on 18 March 2026. Credit: Yasin Akgul/AFP

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

When Hungary’s Prime Minister Viktor Orbán lost by a landslide to a unified opposition in April, Turkey’s President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan was watching. The lesson he drew was not that he should be more moderate; it was that he needed to crack down harder. He had already arrested Istanbul Mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu, the opposition Republican People’s Party (CHP)’s leading presidential contender, in March 2025. After Orbán’s defeat, he has accelerated his campaign to fracture the opposition and rewrite the rules before the next election in 2028.

Electoral autocracy

Erdoğan has been in power since 2003. After surviving a coup attempt in July 2016, he used emergency powers to purge the state at scale. Over 150,000 people were detained, fired or suspended from their jobs. Emergency decrees expanded the government’s power to shut down organisations and remove elected officials. A 2017 constitutional referendum, narrowly approved in a campaign that independent observers found deeply flawed, replaced Turkey’s parliamentary system with a hyper-presidential one.

Independent media has been systematically dismantled. Turkey now ranks 163rd out of 180 countries on Reporters Without Borders’ 2026 World Press Freedom Index. Yet elections have continued, and the opposition has continued to win at the municipal level, most strikingly in Istanbul in 2019 and again by an even wider margin in 2024. That residual competitiveness is what Erdoğan is now moving to close.

İmamoğlu had beaten Erdoğan’s candidate in Istanbul twice, was formally nominated as the CHP’s 2028 presidential candidate and polled strongly against Erdoğan nationally. Authorities arrested him on charges of corruption and links with terrorism as his nomination was under way, triggering Turkey’s largest wave of protests in over a decade. A 4,000-page indictment filed in November 2025 sought to sentence him to over 2,000 years in prison. Espionage charges followed in February 2026. His trial began in March amid continuing protests. He remains in prison, and in the 14 months since his arrest, over 500 more people have been detained, including 16 CHP-affiliated mayors.

With İmamoğlu imprisoned, Erdoğan’s next move was to prevent the CHP from consolidating around anyone else. On 21 May, an appeals court annulled the outcomes of the CHP’s 2023 national congress, ejecting the party’s elected leader Özgür Özel, who had raised the CHP to rough parity with Erdoğan’s Justice and Development Party (AKP) in national polls, and reinstating his predecessor Kemal Kılıçdaroğlu, a divisive figure who lost the last presidential election. Özel condemned the ruling as a judicial coup and refused to leave the party’s headquarters. Three days later, riot police stormed in, firing rubber bullets and teargas. The government denied any involvement, implausibly claiming the judiciary had acted independently. The operation was legal in form and political in substance.

Turkey’s constitution limits presidents to two five-year terms, and Erdoğan’s second expires in 2028. In May 2025, he appointed a legal team to draft a new constitution. It seems clear the goal is to extend his eligibility. The AKP and its nationalist allies fall short of the parliamentary threshold required to change the constitution or call a referendum on it. Some analysts believe the government’s recent initiative to end the decades-long conflict with the Kurdistan Workers’ Party is at least partly designed to attract enough parliamentary votes to clear that threshold.

There is a structural reason the stakes are so high. Turkey’s hyper-presidential system means that, unlike Orbán, Erdoğan would have no safe path back from electoral defeat. For him, losing power could mean political extinction. His crackdown is a response to this threat.

Civil society resistance

Turkey’s civil society has, however, not submitted. Huge protests followed İmamoğlu’s arrest. A mass rally marked his 100th day in jail, and people marched again when the CHP headquarters were raided. Most recently, when Erdoğan ordered the closure of Bilgi University, one of Turkey’s oldest liberal academic institutions, students and staff immediately gathered outside to protest. Within two days the government reversed the closure. This illustrated both the extent of Erdoğan’s repressive urges and their limits when met with swift resistance.

The government has responded to protest with blanket bans on public gatherings, social media restrictions and mass arrests. Four days after İmamoğlu’s arrest, at least 1,879 people had been detained. Police repeatedly intervened forcefully, using teargas and detaining protesters and journalists.

Orbán’s downfall has frightened Erdoğan as much as it has inspired the Turkish opposition. He is moving to eliminate the conditions that made it possible. He has got rid of the most credible and unifying opposition candidate, neutralised the main opposition party and is in the process of dismantling what’s left of an electoral architecture that, however tilted, could still allow the opposition to win.

Turkey’s democracy now depends on whether enough people keep showing up, and on whether they can keep resisting Erdoğan’s campaign to dismantle democracy.

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

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

UN Special Rapporteur on the Occupied Palestinian Territories Francesca Albanese presents her latest report before delegates at the Human Rights Council in Geneva, Switzerland on 23 March 2026. Credit: Fabrice Coffrini/AFP

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Jun 10 2026 (IPS)

For a few days in May, Francesca Albanese could live more easily. On 13 May, a US federal judge ruled that sanctions the Trump administration imposed on her violated her right to free expression. The government was forced to remove the UN Special Rapporteur on the Occupied Palestinian Territories from its sanctions list. But the reprieve lasted barely a week. On 27 May, after an appeals court suspended the ruling, the US Treasury restored sanctions.

The sanctions have been punishing. Due to the dominant role US institutions play in international financial transactions, Albanese can no longer use credit and debit cards. Her apartment in Washington DC has been seized, while Georgetown University ended her affiliation as a scholar. Her offence is to call out Israel’s genocide in Gaza and the occupation policies that preceded it.

An Italian citizen with a legal background, Albanese was appointed in 2022 and began her final term in 2025. She’s consistently been critical of Israel’s occupation of Palestinian territories. In 2024, she presented her Anatomy of a Genocide report to the Human Rights Council. The report found reasonable grounds to conclude that Israel was committing genocidal acts in Gaza, and called for an arms embargo. Her 2025 report, From Economy of Occupation to Economy of Genocide, set out the complicity of major companies in Israel’s human rights atrocities.

Albanese’s demands for justice have brought a fierce backlash from Israel and its allies. Israel called for her to be removed from her post and banned her from visiting Israel and Palestine. The Trump administration followed suit in calling for her sacking. When it imposed sanctions on Albanese last July, it was the first time these had been applied against a UN independent human rights expert.

Sanctions politicised

Albanese isn’t the only target. Democratic states have long applied sanctions against dictators, terrorists and human rights abusers, but the Trump administration is increasingly using them as a weapon against people who defend human rights.

This month, Israel received widespread international condemnation for its actions against the Global Sumud Flotilla, a civil society-led initiative to defy Israel’s chokehold on aid for Gaza and bring vital humanitarian supplies by sea. Israel intercepted the boats in international waters, abducted those on board and subjected them to sickening abuse. When Israel’s far-right national security minister Itamar Ben-Gvir posted a video of himself taunting the abducted activists, democratic states including Canada, Italy and the UK deplored his behaviour, and France and Poland banned him from their countries.

But the US government has done the opposite, imposing sanctions on four activists involved in organising the flotilla. The politicisation of sanctions is evident, given that one of Donald Trump’s first acts on returning to the presidency was to lift sanctions on violent Israeli West Bank settlers.

The International Criminal Court (ICC) is also a target. Last year the Trump administration sanctioned nine ICC officials. The measures came after the ICC issued arrest warrants on crimes against humanity and war crimes charges against Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and ex-Defence Minister Yoav Gallant, and in retaliation for the court’s investigation into potential US war crimes in Afghanistan.

Trump sanctioned two ICC officials in his first term and has repeatedly attacked the ICC, with reports last year that his administration was threatening further sanctions to try to force revisions of the court’s founding treaty, the Rome Statute, to explicitly prevent it having jurisdiction over non-member states such as the USA. Early in his second presidency, he issued an executive order threatening sanctions against anyone who participates in the ICC’s investigations. This sweeping order enabled the sanctions against Albanese.

Trump has also weaponised sanctions to block climate action. Last year the International Maritime Organization was about to finalise a deal to limit the shipping industry’s greenhouse gas emissions. At the last minute, adoption of the new rules was postponed when Trump threatened sanctions against states that supported the emissions curbs.

Chilling effect

Beyond their immediate effects, sanctions help repressive states smear human rights advocates as criminals and terrorists. For Albanese, sanctions form part of a broader campaign to restrict her right to speak out. She has received death threats, which have also been levelled against her daughter.

A broader chilling effect on civil society is visible. Concern about being penalised for sanctions violations caused two US-based human rights groups to pull out of the ICC’s annual meeting last year. For the Trump administration, sanctions are part of a wider onslaught on the rights of people and institutions to demand justice for Israel’s many human rights violations. They’ve come alongside violence against US protests in solidarity with Palestine, deportations of activists and threats to throw young people out of university and defund education institutions.

The misuse of sanctions also forms part of a broader assault on the institutions and rules of global governance. At the same time that the Trump administration is twisting international norms about how sanctions are used and who they’re applied to, it’s also choosing which organisations to participate in and which rules to follow depending on what it sees as the US national interest, and lashing out at international bodies and processes that bring human rights scrutiny.

A single ruling, now suspended, was never going to be enough against the Trump administration’s increasing use of sanctions as a tool to try to silence people. The democratic states that condemned Israel’s abuses against the flotilla activists must show the same resolve when the world’s most powerful state turns sanctions against people whose only offence is to insist that human rights apply everywhere, including in Gaza.

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

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

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

 
CIVICUS discusses the outlook ahead of Peru’s runoff presidential election with David Hidalgo, journalist and executive director of OjoPúblico, a Peruvian digital investigative journalism outlet.

David Hidalgo

What were the first round results?

The Peruvian electoral system requires a candidate to secure over 50 per cent of the vote to win. The first round, held on 12 April, produced no clear winner, as none of the parties took over 20 per cent. Consequently, on 7 June there will be a runoff between two candidates who did not secure strong support but have merely cleared the minimum threshold to reach the runoff.

The contest between Fujimori of Fuerza Popular and Sánchez of Juntos por el Perú promises a difficult and polarised election. Meanwhile, Rafael López Aliaga of Renovación Popular, who came third trailing by some 20,000 votes, has persisted with an intense campaign alleging fraud.

It was an unusual election, as over 30 presidential candidates stood and, for the first time in over 20 years, voters also elected a bicameral parliament. The recent constitutional changes that reintroduced the Senate granted it considerable power, including the final say on whether to vacate a president by removing them via a parliamentary mechanism. In a country that has had eight presidents in 10 years, the composition of the new Senate will be just as decisive as the result of the presidential runoff.

Who are the candidates?

Keiko Fujimori is the daughter of Alberto Fujimori, who came to power in Peru in the 1990s and, two years after taking office, staged a coup and ruled autocratically throughout the decade. Fujimori left a legacy of corruption and serious human rights violations, for which he was sentenced to prison. His daughter defends his government and has built her campaign on the promise of a return to order, a message that may resonate with an electorate affected by historic levels of public insecurity.

However, she carries political baggage. She was the subject of a judicial investigation into the alleged illegal financing of her 2021 campaign, a process that made significant progress but was ultimately quashed. She is surrounded by figures who uncritically defend and recycle a hardline rhetoric that includes the passing of laws to grant amnesty for past human rights violations.

Sánchez built his campaign around the figure of ex-president Pedro Castillo, a former schoolteacher who channelled popular frustration and won the 2021 election, but lacked political preparation and ended up attempting a coup. Castillo is now in prison. Sánchez, who served as minister of trade in his government, has indicated that should he come to power, he could use presidential powers to pardon him.

His candidacy also raises concerns due to his closeness to Antauro Humala, a former military officer who spent almost 18 years in prison for leading a revolt in which four police officers were killed, and who holds radical views on various issues.

López Aliaga, a business leader and former mayor of Lima, has an equally controversial profile. Following a contentious tenure as mayor, he ran on a far-right platform that polarised the presidential campaign. He called for an insurgency when the results went against him and suggested the murder of a critical journalist. He constantly invokes conspiracy theories about an alleged state takeover by a supposed left-wing mafia and dismisses anyone who doesn’t share his views, from human rights organisations to Keiko Fujimori.

Was the first round election free and fair?

Although it was a turbulent electoral process, with incidents relating to the distribution of electoral materials and the opening of polling stations, the election was conducted within parameters that have been validated by various observation missions. There’s no evidence of a concerted effort to commit electoral fraud.

The irregularities that occurred are under investigation. The problem is that these gave rise to allegations of fraud put forward by López Aliaga and his party. Distorted versions of events were circulated to give the impression of significant impacts. For example, in some polling stations in southern Lima, electoral materials didn’t arrive on time, which led to false claims that, for this reason, a million people had been unable to vote. False information also circulated that electoral tally sheets were allegedly tampered with. It’s true there were incidents and irregularities, but there’s no evidence of fraud. This was acknowledged by the European Union’s observation mission.

The narrative of fraud is not new. Since the 2021 election, Keiko Fujimori’s party has maintained that she lost due to fraud, and has repeated this in every election since. López Aliaga adopted the same strategy this time and called for the election to be annulled.

What role have civil society and independent media played?

Disinformation and polarisation have reached historic levels, and the media have had to contend with them in situations of hostility and inequality. The landscape has been marked by constant attacks on independent media from the usual political figures and also parts of the press aligned with powerful corporate structures and others within the ecosystem of content creation for social media, which has emerged as the new arena for public debate.

At the same time, an authoritarian political alliance currently controlling the government and the main public institutions has consolidated a sort of legal stranglehold on independent media, which operate as non-profit organisations. The law on the Peruvian Agency for International Cooperation extends state control over civil society organisations working with international funding and requires their projects to be registered in advance with the state and subjected to coercive oversight, with disproportionate and unconstitutional sanctions. This law undermines editorial independence for independent media and creates risks incompatible with international press freedom standards.

On top of this, there’s a practice where some political groups accuse those who denounce state abuses, corruption and anti-rights practices of terrorism. This was particularly brutal following the social unrest that erupted after Castillo’s downfall in December 2022, when state repression of protests left around 50 people dead in southern Peru. The attacks targeted organisations supporting victims.

To tackle disinformation, used as a political tool in the electoral context, OjoPúblico, with the support of CIVICUS and in partnership with 26 organisations, launched an election coverage initiative using verification methods, in partnership with digital media outlets, radio stations and organised groups from different regions of Peru. The aim was to give the public verified information and show how disinformation undermines democracy. In six months, we generated almost three million views and over 180,000 social media interactions.

What’s the cause of instability in recent years?

The current crisis began in 2016, when Keiko Fujimori rejected the election results and pursued a sustained strategy to weaken the elected government, which culminated in it being removed from office by Congress. Since then, polarisation has deepened and Congress has taken on an increasingly destabilising role.

In this context, an unusual dynamic took hold, when parties at opposite ends of the political spectrum began acting in unison to benefit one another, halt investigations against them and advance their control over key state institutions such as the Constitutional Court, the Ombudsman’s Office and the Public Prosecutor’s Office. By appointing like-minded officials, they weakened the mechanisms of democratic control.

Added to this is the infiltration of illegal economies into politics. One example is that, according to revelations by independent journalists, 28 parties included people linked to illegal mining on their lists. This is an activity with an economic weight comparable to that of drug trafficking in past decades.

The combination of polarisation, institutional capture and the infiltration of criminal interests has sustained a system that reproduces itself election after election. Forces change and adapt, but they don’t disappear and instability persists.

What’s at stake in the runoff?

What’s at stake is democratic stability. This is regardless of who wins. Neither of the two candidates has provided sufficient guarantees that they will respect democratic principles and the rule of law. For 20 years, Peruvian voters have had to choose the lesser of two evils.

If Fujimori wins, she will seek to revive her father’s heavy-handed approach under the banner of law and order, one very much in line with the hard-right wave sweeping through Latin America. If Sánchez wins, his alliances with left-wing groups with a history of violence will open up an equally uncertain scenario.

Neither has presented a solid and convincing programme for the next five years. Their proposals rely more on slogans and spending pledges than on structural solutions to urgent problems such as record levels of insecurity, out-of-control illicit economies, and a fiscal situation undermined by disproportionate tax breaks.

But it’s also true that, given this complex scenario, this is not a choice between two equivalent risks. The dilemma facing Peruvian voters lies in understanding which candidate, if elected, will have greater power to pursue their authoritarian impulses without checks from the institutions that should restrain them.

In recent years, various international analyses have ceased to classify Peru as a democracy and now regard it as a hybrid regime. Depending on who wins, this trend will continue or intensify.

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

GET IN TOUCH
Website
Facebook
Instagram
TikTok
Twitter
YouTube

SEE ALSO
Peru: ‘If authorities once again ignore the popular will, accumulated discontent could trigger a new outbreak’ CIVICUS Lens | Anonymous interview 26.May.2026
Peru: ‘The adult public and the mainstream press ridiculed our protests’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Jackelinne Ponce Paredes 07.May.2026
Peru: ‘Young people have lost their fear and realised change requires constant participation’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Wildalr Lozano 21.Oct.2025

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

 
CIVICUS discusses the cancellation of RightsCon 2026 with Barbora Bukovská, Senior Director for Law and Policy at ARTICLE 19, a human rights organisation that works on freedom of expression and information around the world.

Barbora Bukovská

Why does the cancellation of RightsCon matter?

This cancellation is significant on three levels. First, it means the loss of community. The human rights movement depends on relationships built across borders and over time. RightsCon was one of the few global spaces where civil society organisations, funders, governments, journalists, researchers and technology professionals could meet without political interference. Losing it means losing opportunities to build solidarity and strengthen the networks the movement runs on.

Second, it was a symbolic blow. RightsCon represented the idea that at least one global space existed where civil society could convene freely, protected from political pressure. That illusion is now shattered. The space proved vulnerable. It is yet more evidence of shrinking civic space globally, and the message it sends is chilling: no space is truly protected from state interference any more.

Third, it caused financial damage. Following funding cuts from the USA in early 2025 and reduced funding from other major donor governments, civil society is struggling to secure resources. Organisations had invested precious funding to attend RightsCon, covering travel, organising side events and preparing advocacy materials. These are resources vulnerable civil society organisations cannot afford to waste.

What does this episode reveal about transnational repression?

The cancellation lays bare how emboldened China feels to globalise its political red lines and exercise transnational repression. For years, it has applied pressure on governments to sideline Taiwanese participation in multilateral forums. Taiwan’s leading role in digital rights and technology has long irritated China. What’s new is other governments’ willingness to yield.

China’s tactics have grown more sophisticated. Rather than open confrontation, it leverages threats of diplomatic fallout or lost investment. The pressure now extends into spaces once thought beyond its reach, such as cultural institutions, rights conferences and universities. China has shown it can coerce governments across sectors and at multiple levels.

The wider context matters too. The USA, once a leading global supporter of internet freedom, has retreated from diplomatic and financial backing for digital rights. China’s influence on the African continent has expanded in the absence of rights-based alternatives. When democratic states withdraw support for civil society, authoritarian influence fills the void.

How do China’s leverage and Zambia’s democratic decline combine?

China’s leverage across Africa has grown substantially in recent years. Chinese funding has built major infrastructure in Zambia, including Mulungushi International Conference Centre, the venue where RightsCon was due to take place. Only days before the cancellation, China signed a new agreement to fund further development projects. Zambia carries roughly US$5 billion in debt to China, and that dependency comes with strings attached.

Domestically, the picture is similarly bleak. Despite President Hakainde Hichilema being elected in 2021 on a promise of democratic renewal, civic space has shrunk steadily since. In 2025, parliament passed cybersecurity laws now used to curtail freedom of expression online and detain political opponents. Ahead of the August 2026 general election, the government is enacting further laws designed to entrench its power. Political control is winning out over democratic commitments.

Yielding to Chinese pressure while restricting civic space at home calls Zambia’s commitment to the rule of law and human rights into serious doubt. The debt creates a channel through which China can extract political cooperation. Together, these dynamics create a dangerous precedent for other global south nations facing similar pressure.

What does this mean globally?

The danger extends well beyond Zambia. If a government can cancel a major international civil society gathering without serious diplomatic or institutional consequences, it sends the wrong signals. States must show that interference carries costs. Democratic states, multilateral organisations and regional institutions must impose costs through sustained pressure and exclusion from future convenings.

International human rights mechanisms, including the United Nations Special Rapporteur on the Rights to Freedom of Peaceful Assembly and of Association, have already condemned Zambia’s decision. But statements alone are not enough. Zambia shouldn’t be considered a reliable host for rights-based global dialogue in future.

If governments can yield to authoritarian pressure at the expense of civil society protections without paying a price, the pattern will spread.

What steps should be taken to protect global civil society forums?

Civil society can adapt but cannot insulate its gatherings from state pressure on its own. Real responsibility lies with states that claim to support human rights. They must send a diplomatic and political signal that interference in global forums is costly and prevent other governments from following Zambia’s example. They must reaffirm their commitment to multi-stakeholder forums and invest in civil society’s ability to convene and participate.

That includes member states of international coalitions such as the Freedom Online Coalition and the Media Freedom Coalition. They must act against restrictions on civic space and freedom of expression, using these platforms to impose costs on governments that interfere with civil society. The behaviour Zambia has just normalised must be made costly.

The UN, other intergovernmental organisations and states must work to guarantee the safety and openness of global gatherings. As democratic states withdraw support and authoritarian states expand their reach, the spaces where global civil society can gather, build relationships and advance human rights will continue to shrink. What’s at stake is the infrastructure of global civil society coordination and solidarity.

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

GET IN TOUCH
Website
BlueSky
Facebook
Instagram
LinkedIn
Twitter
YouTube
Barbora Bukovská/LinkedIn

SEE ALSO
Democracy: an enduring aspiration CIVICUS | State of Civil Society Report 2026
Zambia: ‘Constitutional changes in an election period tend to be driven by political expediency rather than the public interest’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Gideon Musonda 24.Dec.2025
Zambia: ‘The NGO Bill strengthens legal mechanisms designed to discredit or silence critical civil society voices’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Josiah Kalala 03.Jun.2025

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

 
CIVICUS discusses the rising trend of social media bans for children with Marie-Ève Nadeau, Head of International Affairs of the 5Rights Foundation, an organisation that promotes children’s rights in the digital environment.

Marie-Ève Nadeau

Are social media bans an effective way of protecting children?

Today, one in three internet users is a child, and digital technologies increasingly mediate all aspects of their lives, from the classroom to the playground, from their first friendships to how they see themselves. As evidence of harms and risks mounts, lawmakers around the world are racing to impose age limits on children’s access to social media. The instinct to act is right, but the current direction risks missing the point.

The real issue is the conditions children face when online. Children are growing up in a digital environment designed without their distinct rights, needs and vulnerabilities in mind. This is a deliberate choice. Tech companies’ business models prioritise commercial gain over children’s safety and wellbeing, deliberately embedding persuasive design, relentless engagement loops and extractive data practices by default. Fixing this requires more than blocking children’s access.

Age restrictions are not new, yet their effectiveness remains inconclusive. Banning children from specific services while leaving the underlying system untouched lets tech companies off the hook for recommender systems that push harmful content, persuasive design that keeps children compulsively engaged and data practices that exploit their attention for profit. Used in isolation, bans create an illusion of protection while the same harmful design practices continue unchallenged. Children are pushed towards other unregulated environments, such as AI chatbots, gaming platforms and educational technology services, where they face equivalent risks with even less scrutiny.

What do these bans mean for children’s rights to expression and information?

Children’s rights are interdependent and indivisible, and the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child General Comment No. 25 makes clear that all children’s rights apply fully in the digital environment. This includes the right to protection from harm, but also to the rights of access to information, expression and participation. In practice, tech companies have made these rights conditional on the commercial surveillance, exploitation and manipulation of children, eroding their privacy, safety, critical thinking and agency.

Age-based bans that restrict access without addressing underlying design practices create a false choice between freedom and safety. Children need both protection from harm and meaningful access to expression, information and participation. Restricting access without reforming the systems that embed risk fails to uphold the full range of children’s rights.

Who is most harmed by these bans, and what gaps do they create?

Children’s rights apply until the age of 18, yet proposed restrictions often only cover children under 16 and a narrow set of high-risk services. This creates gaps. Children above the age threshold, and those who circumvent poorly implemented restrictions, end up in unregulated spaces outside the scope of bans.

Bans can also entrench inequality. Children are not a homogeneous group, and those facing intersecting vulnerabilities linked to disability, gender, political opinion, race, religion or ethnic, national or social origin may heavily rely on digital spaces for expression, identity safety and support.

At the same time, engagement-based platform design often rewards and amplifies divisive and harmful content, for example on gender-based violence, heightening risks for excluded communities. Blanket bans do not create safer spaces, nor eliminate these harms. Instead, they displace them to less visible, less regulated and even less accountable spaces. Effective protection must ensure children can exercise their rights and have safe spaces of support and community.

How does age verification work, and what does it mean for children’s privacy?

Tech companies routinely invest heavily in targeting advertising and personalising content yet fail to apply the same rigour to protecting children. Age assurance, an umbrella term for both age estimation and age verification solutions, allows companies to recognise the presence of children and act accordingly. It must be lawful, rights-respecting and proportionate to risk. Data collection should be limited to what’s strictly necessary to establish age, and used only for that purpose.

Global privacy regulators found that 24 per cent of services lack any age assurance mechanism and 90 per cent of those relying on self-declaration are easily bypassed. Yet robust solutions exist. Australia’s age assurance technology trial demonstrates that privacy-preserving age verification can confirm age without exposing identity. Technical standards, such as the 2089.1-2024 Standard for Online Age Verification published by the Institute of Electrical and Electronics Engineers, show that independently audited frameworks, like those used in product safety or pharmaceuticals, are both feasible and necessary to ensure age assurance systems are secure, proportionate and compliant.

For low-risk services appropriate for all users, there should be no requirement to establish age. Where services or functionalities present risk to children, companies should address or mitigate specific high-risk features rather than gatekeeping entire services.

What should governments demand from platforms to protect children?

Age restrictions have become part of a global playbook, notably in data protection regimes like the US Children’s Online Privacy Protection Act (COPPA), which sets 13 as the threshold for consent to data collection. Poor implementation and enforcement of COPPA and similar laws have allowed tech companies to hide behind obscure disclaimers while failing to meaningfully restrict access and profiting from embedding risk into children’s digital experiences.

There’s another way forward. The priority should be holding tech companies accountable, not banning children from the digital world. That means banning exploitative practices, regulating risky features such as addictive design, manipulative recommender systems and extractive data practices, and requiring privacy, safety and age-appropriate design as the baseline.

It also means shifting to systemic risk management: companies should be legally required to anticipate, assess and mitigate how their products expose children to risk. This baseline already exists in other high-risk sectors such as aviation, food safety and medicine, where products must demonstrate safety before reaching the market.

A growing global consensus points to a clear path forward: embedding age-appropriate design, requiring child rights impact assessments, mandating privacy and safety by design and default, establishing effective enforcement mechanisms and ensuring independent auditing. Over 55 leading organisations and experts from all continents have endorsed the 10 best-practice principles developed by the 5Rights Foundation.

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

GET IN TOUCH
Website
BlueSky
Instagram
LinkedIn
Spotify
Twitter
Marie-Ève Nadeau/BlueSky
Marie-Ève Nadeau/LinkedIn

SEE ALSO
Child social media bans: a growing global problem CIVICUS Lens 05.May.2026
Technology: Innovation without accountability CIVICUS | State Of Civil Society Report 2026
North Macedonia: ‘The solution cannot be to cut children off social media, but to make it safer’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Goran Rizaov 23.Apr.2026

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
  

Tisza Party Leader Péter Magyar speaks to a crowd of supporters in Siófok, a town in Somogy County, southwestern Hungary, after leading a landslide election victory in April. Credit: SNRTZ

By Catherine Wilson
SYDNEY, Australia, May 13 2026 (IPS)

Péter Magyar, leader of the pro-democratic centre-right Tisza Party, which recently swept into power on an unstoppable wave of hope for change, has now been sworn into office as Hungary’s new Prime Minister.

After a decade and a half of increasing authoritarian governance by the former Fidesz regime, led by Prime Minister Viktor Orbán, the pro-democracy movement in the central European nation delivered a democratic rebound at the general election held on 12 April.

“I will not rule over Hungary; I will serve my homeland,” the 45 year old Magyar pledged during the taking of the oath of office ceremony in the Hungarian parliament on 9 May. The formal beginning of a new era in the country was followed by a massive public festival dedicated to freedom and democracy in the streets of Budapest, Hungary’s capital. The celebration took place nearly a month after the Tisza Party leader stood in front of jubilant crowds as the election result became clear to declare, “Today the Hungarian people said yes to Europe. They said yes to a free Hungary.”

The new Tisza government, which secured a supermajority of 141 of 199 parliamentary seats, has promised a roll back of the democratic decline that occurred during the Orbán era. After being elected into power in 2010, the Fidesz regime steadily stifled opposition and dissent by manipulating the electoral system, eroding the independence of the judiciary and media, threatening government critics and undermining the work of civil society organisations.

Péter Magyar (L), Leader of the Hungarian Tisza Party, and Viktor Orbán (R), Leader of the Fidesz Party, at a European Parliament Plenary Session in Brussels, 9 October 2024. Credit: European Union/Alain Rolland

“The election results have opened the door to exercising public power within appropriate constraints. Checks and balances may be revived, social participation can have a greater role, and the constant attacks against NGOS and the independent press may cease,” Gábor Medvegy at the Hungarian Civil Liberties Union in Budapest told IPS.

These were the expectations of many Hungarians 37 years ago, when the nation severed ties with its Communist past. Located west of Romania and south of Slovakia and Ukraine, Hungary lived under Soviet-aligned rule from 1947 to 1989 when it began the transition to a multi-party democracy. It then became a member of NATO in 1999 and the European Union (EU) in 2004.

But the next generation after this moment of immense political and social change witnessed the gradual loss, rather than gain, in democratic rights, as Orbán implemented policies in line with his vision of “illiberal democracy”. Four years ago, the European Parliament declared that Hungary had become an ‘electoral autocracy’ which undermined the rule of law, freedom of expression, religion and association while failing to address corruption. According to Transparency International, the nation has a poor corruption perception score of 40/100. And soon it was penalised for its autocratic tendencies when the EU withheld billions of euros in funding.

The possibility of a political alternative emerged two years ago when Magyar, who held positions in the Fidesz Government, resigned to join the opposition. He remains a deeply patriotic leader speaking to Hungarian interests, but he has also articulated a clear commitment to change. The Tisza Party’s manifesto, ‘A Functioning and Humane Hungary,’ outlines a vision of accountable governance, return to the rule of law, the independence of the judiciary and media and a renewed fight against corruption, while also improving public services and addressing the cost of living and rural disadvantage. At present the nation’s public spending on health is about half the EU average and its preventable mortality rate of 333 per 100,000 people is well above the EU average of 168, reports the European Commission.

The party’s focus on core voter concerns and strong policies is likely to have been a factor in the high voter turnout of 77 percent and strong youth participation in the April poll. An estimated 30 percent of the country’s population of 9.7 million people are aged under 30 years, and media reports claim that 65 percent of voters in this age group were Tisza supporters.

And the new government has made a rapid start on its policy promises.  Negotiations with the EU have begun to re-establish democratic norms in Hungary and secure the release of the withheld funding. “What is important is the economic development in Hungary,” Dr Anton Shekhovtsov, Visiting Professor at the Central European University in Vienna, told IPS. “If Magyar is able to de-block the EU funding that was withheld for a few years now, the economic situation will hopefully improve.” It will also be important to enable Hungarian industries to thrive in order to boost the domestic economy, he added.

But, to achieve this, the new government will have to address nepotism in state institutions and key public office posts. “Essentially Hungary, under Orbán, is a captured state. The power of Fidesz has penetrated state institutions very deeply. So the task for Tisza is now to drain the swamp, get rid of the deep state,” Shekhovtsov emphasised.

Democracy more widely in Europe could also benefit from the influence of Hungary’s new leadership. The EU’s support of Ukraine, following the Russian invasion in 2022, was impeded by the Fidesz government’s repeated alignment with Russian President Vladimir Putin. Orbán opposed the bloc’s Russian sanctions and, in February, vetoed a critical 90 billion euro loan to Ukraine after a damaged pipeline halted the supply of oil from Russia. However, Hungary lifted its veto by 23 April, with oil flows resuming, and approved the EU’s next round of sanctions on Russia.

“Unlike Orbán, Magyar has no ties to Russia and, therefore, his government will not be subordinated to Moscow and its interests,” Bálint Madlovics, research fellow at the Central European University in Budapest, told IPS. He has also “clearly framed Ukraine as a victim of aggression, strongly opposing any external pressure on Kyiv to cede territory”.

However, on migration, another regional issue, Hungary’s new prime minister made it clear in the months before the election that he opposes illegal migration and intends to maintain the southern border fence which was constructed in 2015 to prevent unauthorised migrants from entering the country. Although Hungary may need to alter its stance when the EU’s new migration and asylum agreement, which requires member states to contribute to the regional responsibility for managing refugees, is implemented in June.

Yet, arguably, the new government has, in a short time, begun to build confidence with its own people and with other European nations that are committed to a democratic region.  In the long term, strengthening civic rights and liberties and improving equality are crucial for the new Hungary, Medvegy said. And “we must help ensure that people are not merely spectators of politics but active participants,” he emphasised.

IPS UN Bureau Report

Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau