Media personnel watch a digital screen showing leaders of member states gather for a family photograph during the 18th BRICS Summit in New Delhi on 13 September 2026. Credit: Arun Sankar/AFP

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

At the 18th BRICS Summit, held on 12 and 13 September in New Delhi, India’s Prime Minister Narendra Modi brought together presidents Xi Jinping of China, Vladimir Putin of Russia and Masoud Pezeshkian of Iran, along with Abu Dhabi’s Crown Prince, Sheikh Khaled bin Mohamed bin Zayed, representing the United Arab Emirates (UAE). Around the table sat longstanding rivals such as India and China and, in the case of Iran, Saudi Arabia and the UAE, states on opposite sides of an ongoing war. That the summit produced a joint declaration every member could sign was a modest multilateralist success.

The summit took place against a fast-changing backdrop. With the USA under Donald Trump an unreliable partner and often a hostile power bent on bullying others into submission, numerous states are seeking new alliances as a counterweight. BRICS, whose 11 members account for 49 per cent of the world’s population and 28 per cent of the global economy, could become a more significant forum as a result. But what is on offer is a profoundly old-fashioned, state-centric form of multilateralism, in which the people in whose name states claim to act have little say.

A hollow declaration

At the summit, Xi called for international rules to be ‘written by all countries’, even though he leads a one-party state where increasingly only he writes the rules. Putin urges greater representation for Africa, Asia and Latin America at the UN Security Council, while routinely wielding his veto to stop the council acting on his war in Ukraine.

The New Delhi Declaration’s silences speak loudest. It is explicit on Palestine, calling on Israel to end its war on Gaza and backing a Palestinian state based on the 1967 borders. But on the war in Iran, it only urges ‘maximum restraint’ without naming the warring parties, reflecting the fact that Iran, Saudi Arabia and the UAE sat around the same table. Russia’s invasion of Ukraine is not mentioned at all, a regression from past declarations and a troubling sign that Putin has no interest in ending the fighting. The text condemns ‘indiscriminate rising tariffs’ and ‘unilateral sanctions’ without naming the USA, sparing the blushes of members such as India, which is reportedly finalising a trade deal with Washington. The declaration preserves consensus at the expense of resolve.

Closed civic space, open defiance

Most BRICS governments have no fear of being held domestically accountable for the compromises they have made. Civic space is closed in seven of BRICS’ 11 states and obstructed or repressed in the rest. Russia jails and exiles opposition voices and has made protest almost impossible. China subjects its people to mass surveillance and crushes any expression that departs from ruling-party lines. Iran violently suppresses protest movements, including through the death penalty. Saudi Arabia and the UAE recognise no legitimate role for independent civil society. Host and self-styled mediator India has seen Modi’s government erode press freedom, restrict civil society funding and stoke hostility towards religious minorities.

Domestic repression translates directly into a closed international forum. After 18 summits, BRICS still has no treaty, no published membership criteria, no permanent secretariat, no budget and no mechanism for civil society to hold its members to account. This is no accident. It leaves powerful leaders free to pursue their interests, and it means civil society has less influence in BRICS than in comparable blocs such as the G20, and much less than in UN processes.

Civil society mobilised regardless. Three weeks before the summit, over 200 delegates from farmers’ organisations, people’s movements, trade unions, women’s organisations and other civil society groups gathered in New Delhi for the People’s BRICS Summit. Its resolution denounced BRICS states for reproducing extractivist, inequitable development models, and insisted that cooperation between global south states be judged by the dignity and rights it delivers to people and communities, not by the freedom it grants states and capital. It called for debt restructuring, a publicly accountable energy transition, food sovereignty, universal social security, women’s political representation and an end to the persecution of civil society activists, and for BRICS to take a clear stand against military intervention, occupation and genocide. BRICS governments chose not to listen.

Ambition without accountability

BRICS’ biggest ambition, on display in the New Delhi Declaration, is to reshape international finance. Development of payment systems independent of the US dollar would chip away at the USA’s unique ability to sustain its power by printing more dollars, despite mountainous debt, to meet unceasing demand. But it would also let repressive states such as Iran and Russia sell oil and gas more easily, funding their repression while blunting international sanctions.

This ambition comes with no commitment to accountability. The bloc has no channel through which the people most affected by its decisions can make their voices heard, and no human rights conditions are attached to its initiatives.

None of the emerging responses to the rapidly changing international order promises to be more democratic than the current system. So far, neither BRICS nor any of the other alternatives now taking shape has matched its growing ambition with greater accountability.

Samuel King is a researcher at CIVICUS: World Alliance for Citizen Participation, working on ENSURED: Shaping Cooperation for a World in Transition, a Horizon Europe-funded project. 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 Professor of Comparative Politics at Universidad ORT Uruguay.

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

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

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.

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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.

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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

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

Gabriela Panchana

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

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

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

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

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

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

How else are people being criminalised for speaking out?

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

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

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

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

What are the consequences of criminalisation?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What international support is needed?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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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

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Fawzia Koofi, former Deputy Speaker of the Afghan Parliament, says the country is experiencing gender apartheid.

By Ariel F. Dumont
ROME, Aug 20 2026 (IPS)

FIVE years after the Taliban returned to power, Fawzia Koofi, the former Deputy Speaker of the Afghan Parliament, denounces what she describes as “gender apartheid.”

Despite bans, terror, and the systematic erasure of women from society, Afghan women continue to resist through underground schools and online solidarity networks.

Koofi was also a member of the official delegation that represented the Afghan government during the 2020 peace negotiations with the Taliban in Doha, Qatar.

Since the fall of Kabul, she has been living in Europe after being evacuated from Afghanistan, where she continues to advocate for Afghan women and campaign for political alternatives to Taliban rule. Speaking with IPS, Koofi explains how the Taliban have systematically erased women from public life while describing the resilience and determination of Afghan women to continue resisting.

IPS: Three years after their return to power, the Taliban have gradually stripped women of all their rights. Today you describe the situation as genuine gender apartheid. How would you describe the condition of Afghan women?

Fawzia Koofi: Women have gradually lost their rights as the Taliban imposed increasingly restrictive measures through a series of decrees. In 2021, girls were banned from attending secondary school. Then, in 2022, women were barred from universities. In 2024, they were no longer allowed to study medicine, not even gynaecology.

Today, every field of education is closed to them. Compared with the first Taliban regime, the current restrictions are even harsher. Yet Afghan women continue to resist because they know education is essential, and their families understand that it is vital. They attend classes in clandestine home-based schools.

Most of these home schools are run by NGOs that pay teachers’ salaries and sometimes even cover students’ internet connection costs. They also provide online English and computer courses. These schools do not issue diplomas. Nevertheless, students receive an education that sometimes enables them to start an online business, pursue distance learning while remaining underground, or teach other young girls.

IPS: How do these underground schools operate, and how do women manage to escape repression?

Koofi: Officially, these schools do not exist; they are not registered. As a result, whenever the Taliban discover them, they can arrest the teachers, students, or those responsible for running them. That is exactly what happened to one of the networks I helped establish, for example, in Ghor Province, in central-western Afghanistan, and also in Badakhshan, in the country’s northeast. They raided the schools and arrested the staff. In other cases, however, they may be more lenient when members of their families attend these schools.

The curriculum focuses on science, computer skills, and English to help women and girls obtain scholarships, work online, or run online businesses. Some women who manage to build small businesses personally take charge of marketing in an effort to expand their activities. Unfortunately, without diplomas or accreditation, professional opportunities remain extremely limited for most women.

Many Afghan women living in exile devote a large part of their time to providing online education for women inside Afghanistan. We connect them with university students and try to teach them English or other languages. It is regrettable that Western governments repeatedly promise to defend women’s rights while failing to provide the funding or scholarships that would allow Afghan women to continue their studies abroad, return home one day, and help rebuild their country. The Taliban’s declared objective is to erase women from Afghan society in the name of Islamic morality.

IPS: Why do you use the term gender apartheid?

Koofi: Because, little by little, women have been completely erased from public life. Some women tell me that when they walk through the streets of Kabul and encounter Taliban officials or soldiers, they are often looked at as though they were criminals.

They are told: “You are not allowed to work or attend university, so why are you out in the street?”

That is precisely the principle of apartheid: separating a gender or a group of people on the basis of their sex, race, or religion and excluding them from society. That is exactly what the Taliban are doing.

The silence of the international community is deeply regrettable. Some governments occasionally condemn the Taliban system, but that is where it ends.

Even worse, they adopt the same kind of practices.

The United Kingdom, for instance, continues to say, “We support Afghan women,” while refusing to grant student visas for fear that applicants might later seek political asylum. It makes no sense. How many of them would actually do so? Two hundred students? In a situation where they can neither study nor work in their own country, it should not be considered a problem if they apply for asylum.

All these contradictions, together with the international community’s lack of action, only encourage and strengthen the Taliban, who interpret this as a form of recognition and legitimacy.

Many experts say that women are disappearing from public space in Afghanistan. Do you agree with that assessment?

Koofi: Imagine the reality faced by women living there today, who are not even allowed to leave their homes freely. Take humanitarian aid distribution as an example.

In many regions, aid distribution is controlled by the Taliban with the assistance of the local councils they have appointed. Beneficiaries are selected from among relatives or supporters.

Single women, such as war widows with dependent children, or women who lost their jobs under Taliban rule, are excluded from receiving aid. And when they protest, the local council members appointed by the Taliban report them, and they are arrested.

There have been cases of sexual violence in Taliban prisons.

The Taliban have locked down the entire system by systematically controlling the country and all its institutions. If local council members rebel or fail to cooperate sufficiently, they are simply replaced. That is how the system functions.

Yet women continue to resist and to protest in order to survive, although it is far from easy. Some open beauty salons or small shops inside their homes. A few television channels that have reached agreements with the Taliban and comply with censorship are still allowed to employ women, but they are required to wear face masks while on air. In effect, they have become spokespersons for the Taliban, who tightly control the news that they broadcast.

Are there still any spaces where women can enjoy some degree of freedom?

They are becoming increasingly rare. Last month in Herat, in western Afghanistan, the Taliban arrested more than 60 women who were not wearing the burqa but instead a large headscarf in keeping with local tradition. Their families and other women protested, and for once, men also took to the streets. The Taliban responded by opening fire. To them, human life has very little value. They arrest, imprison, torture, and kill.

On April 28, they arrested three members of my family as well as one of our gardeners. They then confiscated my house. My relatives were held in solitary confinement for a week and tortured. We managed to mobilise social media, and my family was eventually released. All this simply because I am able to speak to the media and communicate with the United Nations Assistance Mission in Kabul.

In most cases, however, families do not even know where their loved ones are being held. They can disappear for months. The media do not report these cases because they are controlled by the Taliban. This is the reality for everyone. Women continue to write and to protest through social media, each in their own way.

Do you feel that the world has forgotten Afghanistan and Afghan women?

Yes. The world paved the way for the Taliban’s return.

Let us remember the Doha Agreement signed between the Taliban and the United States, which says absolutely nothing about the condition of women or about human rights in general. A

ll of this encouraged the Taliban.

I took part in those negotiations, and the Taliban told me that women’s rights were not among the priorities of my American and European friends. Unfortunately, they were right.

Now the European Union has invited the Taliban to negotiate the return of Afghans living abroad irregularly or individuals considered to pose a security threat. This approach is rather strange and paradoxical because as long as conditions in Afghanistan do not improve, people will continue to want to leave.

Everyone living in the country wants to leave. I speak by telephone every day with Afghans, and every one of them tells me they want to leave. Without work, without education, and without freedom, there is no dignity.

It is absurd. The European Union is engaging with the Taliban, who will simply exploit these negotiations for their benefit.

The attention of Western countries, and indeed of the world as a whole, is focused on other major conflicts. I believe this is a mistake because, sooner or later, Afghanistan will become a rear base for several violent extremist groups.

The Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP), the Islamic State (ISIS), and Al-Qaeda remain highly active in the region. In fact, Al-Qaeda’s leader was killed only two kilometres from the Taliban presidential palace in July 2022.

To claim that the Taliban will effectively fight these groups while allowing them to govern the country is, in my view, sheer hypocrisy. The world must act before it is too late. We are not asking for NATO troops to return. Rather, we are asking governments not to encourage or support the Taliban.

Unfortunately, I have the feeling that human rights — and women’s rights in particular — are simply not considered a strategic issue or a priority. That is the reality.

IPS UN Bureau Report

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

Hugo González

What are the problems with Law 7363?

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

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

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

In what political context was the law passed?

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

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

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

What impact is the new law having?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Credit: Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ)

By Thalif Deen
UNITED NATIONS, Aug 14 2026 (IPS)

Pakistan, one of few South Asian countries to oscillate between democratic governments and authoritarian regimes, is cracking down on journalists, including foreign correspondents covering the political situation in the world’s fifth most populous nation, with an estimated population of over 250 million people and ranking behind India, China, the United States, and Indonesia.

According to one report, Pakistan is technically under a nominal civilian coalition government led by Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif, but political analysts and experts describe the actual state as being under “constitutional militarism” or deep military dominance, with the military establishment holding sweeping authority

The government’s crackdown of journalists has triggered criticisms from the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), Human Rights Watch, Reporters Without Borders and the Pakistan Federal Union of Journalists.

Beh Lih Yih, CPJ’s Asia-Pacific regional director told Inter Press Service (IPS): Pakistan is tarnishing its own international reputation by restricting journalists from reporting from large parts of the country.

“The latest attempt to censor media coverage highlights the deteriorating situation of press freedom in the country, which remains one of the most dangerous places for journalists, with high numbers of media killings and enforced disappearances”.

“Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif’s government must withdraw the restrictive measures and immediately stop targeting journalists, whether through detention or questioning. Pakistan must uphold its constitutional and international obligations to protect press freedom if it wants to be taken seriously as a democracy.”

According to the New York Times August 10, the government has imposed new restrictions that require all journalists working for foreign news media to seek permission to travel outside Pakistan’s three major cities.

The rules come after a surge of news media, covering elections in the Pakistan-administered part of Kashmir, a disputed region where protesters have been campaigning since early June for more political autonomy.

The Times said reporters in Pakistan have in recent years faced increased censorship and financial pressure, including frozen bank accounts and the suspension of government advertising , forced removal, arbitrary arrests and imprisonment, according to journalists and human rights groups.

In August 2026, UNESCO did not issue a specific statement or direct criticism regarding Pakistan’s latest media restrictions. Instead, a major pushback against Pakistan’s newly enacted Foreign Media Facilitation Guidelines 2026 came from press freedom organizations like the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan (HRCP), and Amnesty International.

Meanwhile, the New York based Committee to Protect Journalists has called on Pakistani authorities to withdraw draconian new guidelines requiring journalists working for international media outlets to obtain authorization before reporting outside Islamabad, Karachi, or Lahore, in a move likely to censor coverage of unrest in Pakistan-administered Kashmir.

The guidelines, reviewed by CPJ, require international and Pakistani journalists who contribute to foreign media organizations, including social media and web-based platforms, to obtain a no-objection certificate (NOC) from the information ministry for “official assignments, especially for work outside Islamabad, Lahore and Karachi.”

“The Foreign Media Facilitation Guidelines open the door for Pakistani authorities to further restrict international media coverage, prevent journalists from reporting freely outside Pakistan’s three main cities, and risk exposing them to administrative retaliation,” said CPJ Afghanistan and Pakistan Representative Waliullah Rahmani. “These guidelines mark yet another appalling blow to press freedom in Pakistan, where journalists are already facing an intense crackdown, particularly those reporting on unrest in Pakistan-administered Kashmir.”

The five-page guidelines were introduced days after the government criticized international reporting on elections and protests in Kashmir and accused Al Jazeera of engaging in “yellow journalism,” a term for sensational reporting. Access to Al Jazeera’s website has been restricted.

Authorities can suspend or revoke journalists’ accreditation or media outlets’ for “acts against the ideology, sovereignty, security or public order of Pakistan,” the guidelines say.

Authorities have banned coverage of protests demanding electoral reform in Kashmir, after international outlets reported on police brutality during clashes with demonstrators, and suspended mobile and internet services. International media say that at least 40 people died ahead of the vote, which began on July 27, according to CPJ.

CPJ said the information ministry did not respond to emailed request for comment.

IPS UN Bureau Report

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

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

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

Civil society dismantled

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

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

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

Repression beyond borders

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

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

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

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

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

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

Long-term pressure needed

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

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

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

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

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

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Aug 7 2026 (IPS)

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

Crackdown intensifies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Repressive alliance

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gulchehra Hoja

What does the new Ethnic Unity Law state?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What are the risks of speaking out?

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

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

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

What should the international community do?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The crowd reflected that evolution.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What followed altered the course of the movement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His demands had also evolved.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She also questioned how education policy is made.

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

That conversation had drawn unexpected allies.

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

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

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

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

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

Parents had reached a similar conclusion.

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

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

For Siddique, the issue was larger than examinations.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

IPS UN Bureau Report

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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

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Credit: Mauricio Morales Source UNESCO

By Alon Ben-Meir
NEW YORK, Jul 23 2026 (IPS)

Under a new rule proposed by the Department of Homeland Security, the duration of “I visas” for foreign media will be slashed from renewable multi year periods—often up to five years—to a maximum of 240 days, and just 90 days for Chinese journalists. Renewals would no longer be a routine administrative step tied to continued employment and compliance with the law, but a discretionary privilege the government can grant or withhold at will.

Turning Journalist Visas into a Weapon

The Foreign Press Association and other media organizations have warned that such a regime will make it “impossible” for correspondents to do their jobs: they cannot build sources, understand the country’s complex politics, or maintain anything resembling a family life if their legal status expires every few months and is constantly subject to political whim. The Association of Foreign Press Correspondents in the United States rightly calls this a “flagrant attack on press freedom” designed to chill coverage by making unfavorable reporting a potential visa liability.

An Assault on the Spirit of the First Amendment

Formally, the First Amendment binds Congress, not consular officers or immigration regulators. But in substance, the proposed rule is a direct affront to the First Amendment’s core principle: that a free press must be able to scrutinize those in power without fear of retaliation.

By conditioning a journalist’s ability to live and work in the United States on repeated, discretionary renewals, the administration is creating precisely the climate of self censorship that the First Amendment was meant to prevent. If a reporter knows that a critical story about the president or his allies might translate into a denied extension, the line between immigration policy and political reprisal evaporates.

This is not a hypothetical danger. The rule expressly allows the government to scrutinize the “content” a journalist is covering when deciding whether to grant an extension, opening the door to ideological filtering of who gets to report from the United States. That logic is indistinguishable from the methods long used by authoritarian regimes that the United States has historically condemned.

A Tool for Selective Punishment

The proposal also creates a ready made instrument for selective punishment of journalists from countries with which the Trump administration has tense or adversarial relations. The singling out of Chinese journalists for especially harsh 90 day limits is an explicit signal that Washington is prepared to wield visa policy as a geopolitical stick, not a neutral administrative tool.

Once this precedent is established, nothing prevents the administration from tightening the screw further on reporters from other states whose governments it wishes to pressure—or punish. The result would be a two tiered press landscape in which journalists from favored countries enjoy relative stability, while those from disfavored states face constant uncertainty and the implicit demand to “behave.”

Collateral Damage to US Society and Industry

The damage, however, would not be confined to newsrooms. International coverage of the United States is a critical artery for sectors that depend on global visibility and confidence, including finance, higher education, entertainment, sports, tourism, and cultural institutions. If it becomes prohibitively expensive or logistically impossible for foreign outlets to station correspondents in the US for more than a few months, many will simply relocate their hubs elsewhere.

That relocation carries a cost: fewer nuanced stories about American democracy, markets, universities, and culture, and more reliance on second hand or adversarial narratives. For a country that still claims leadership of a “free world,” deliberately undermining the global visibility of its own society is more than self defeating; it is profoundly hypocritical.

Undermining Treaty Commitments and Global Standing

There is an additional, often overlooked dimension: these restrictions risk clashing with US obligations under the UN Headquarters Agreement and related arrangements governing access for foreign journalists covering the United Nations. New York is not only an American city; it is the seat of an international organization whose work depends on open media access from all member states.

For decades, Washington has rightly insisted that host states of international institutions must guarantee access to the press and avoid politicizing visas. If the United States itself begins to weaponize journalist visas, it hands every authoritarian government a ready made excuse to do the same, eroding what remains of an already fragile global norm.

What Must Be Done

This proposal is not inevitable. It is a regulatory measure that can be challenged, delayed, and ultimately defeated through a combination of legal action, congressional oversight, diplomatic pressure, and public mobilization. Media organizations, civil liberties groups, universities, and US industries that depend on international coverage should submit formal complaints, petition Congress to block implementation, and prepare litigation arguing that the rule is arbitrary, discriminatory, and incompatible with the constitutional protection of a free press.

Foreign governments and international bodies, including the UN, should make it clear that undermining foreign press access in the United States will invite reciprocal restrictions on American journalists abroad—further isolating US audiences from the world. And American citizens, who ultimately bear the cost of an information starved public sphere, must insist that their government not abuse immigration law as a backdoor censorship tool.

It is no accident that Trump, who is openly hostile to independent media, now seeks to transform visas into levers of control over who may report on it. If this rule stands, it will not only harm thousands of foreign journalists and their families; it will further entrench a creeping authoritarianism in America that fears scrutiny above all else, and that is precisely why it must be stopped.

Dr Alon Ben-Meir is President, Institute for Humanitarian Conflict Resolution

IPS UN Bureau

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Excerpt:

By Thalif Deen
UNITED NATIONS, Jul 22 2026 (IPS)

A proposal to restrict US visas to foreign journalists assigned to cover the US has triggered a strong protest from the New York-based Foreign Press Association (FPA).

The FPA says it is dismayed by the US administration’s proposals for restricting international press visas. The shortened duration of the press “I” visa would make it impossible for overseas press to maintain consistent coverage of the US, let alone staff a bureau.

The likely administrative backlogs and possible politically motivated visa denials fly in the face of the First Amendment in the US and challenge international media standards.

“The demand for frequent visa renewal obviates any chance that correspondents could maintain any kind of family life, let alone to develop the network of sources and resources essential for professional journalism.”

“The benefits of free press coverage stand in their own right. However, we should also point out that many essential US industries depend on international media coverage.”

Markets, education, entertainment, STEM, sports, and culture are just some examples of industries where companies and institutions could decide to relocate to more cosmopolitan and accessible countries, the FPA said.

The administration rule changes reducing the length of stay for foreign journalist (I) visas to 240 days and 90 days for Chinese journalists harm the international media’s ability to cover the United States. Journalists, who have spent years building relationships and developing a deep understanding of the U.S. economy, people, culture, and politics, would join the millions whose ability to travel to and work in the U.S. is challenged by the administration’s policies.

According to the US State Department, media (I) visas are for representatives of the foreign media, including members of the press, radio, film, and print industries. The media representative must be traveling temporarily to the United States to work in their profession. The individual may only participate in informational or educational activities, essential to the foreign media function.

Activities in the United States while on a media (I) visa must be for a media organization with a home office outside of the United States. Activities in the United States must be informational in nature and generally associated with the newsgathering process and reporting on current events.

Since at least the Second World War, the FPA pointed out, the State Department has set an example for other countries with its untrammelled welcome for the foreign press and its consistent defense of First Amendment rights. The flurry of reflexive xenophobia represented by these proposals reverses all those decades in a way that clearly does not take account of the needs of the press, nor indeed of the USA.

“Many of us can testify to the professional development of journalists from more restrictive countries like China when exposed to a more open press here, which makes it even more illogical that the proposals impose additional restrictions on Chinese media”.

“We recall that the Headquarters Treaty with the United Nations and other international bodies commits the host country, the US, to facilitate entry to press from member countries to cover the work, and cannot see any provisions to ensure that this international treaty obligation is fulfilled. Once again this suggests that these proposals were rushed through without consideration of the realities, and we can testify, with no consultation with the media affected”.

Ian Williams, President, Foreign Press Association of the USA, told Inter Press Service (IPS), “It’s worse than a crime; it’s a screw-up (mistake), as Napoleon’s general didn’t say… They have lumped journalists in with the overall category of foreigners and acted with reflexive xenophobia—perhaps exacerbated because if there’s any group they hate more than foreigners, it’s journalists.”

The proposals, he said, show no sign of intelligent appreciation of the role of journalism or journalists, and they have produced no statistics for journalists and the alleged threat to security or immigration. Their arguments and proposals are an exercise in knee-jerk prejudice, a reflex that operates without the intervention of the intellect.

“One also wonders whether they have given any thought to American interests. Whatever you think of their social utility, NYSE and NASDAQ depend on global media for international investors,” he said

Similarly, as one would expect from a bunch of Philistines with no professional experience, by bundling the media, along with educational visas, they may have muddied the waters. Higher education has a heavy dependence on foreign tuition income, and they will fight back politically and in the courts, maybe joined by the Murdoch Press, which has regularly imported reactionary talent from abroad.

“Ironically one thinks of the foreign press personalities who have come into the USA—people like Rupert Murdoch, Andrew Neill, Douglas Murray, Conrad Black, Andrew Sullivan, and Stuart Varney—and furthered the conservative cause here, but that is not who they are thinking about,” declared Williams, a former President of the UN Correspondents’ Association (UNCA).

Dr. Alon Ben-Meir, President, Institute for Humanitarian Conflict Resolution, told IPS that by conditioning a journalist’s ability to live and work in the United States on repeated, discretionary renewals, the administration is creating precisely the climate of self-censorship that the First Amendment was meant to prevent.

If a reporter knows that a critical story about the president or his allies might translate into a denied extension, the line between immigration policy and political reprisal evaporates, he said.

“This is not a hypothetical danger. The rule expressly allows the government to scrutinize the “content” a journalist is covering when deciding whether to grant an extension, opening the door to ideological filtering of who gets to report from the United States. That logic is indistinguishable from the methods long used by authoritarian regimes that the United States has historically condemned,” said Dr Ben-Meir

The proposal also creates a ready-made instrument for selective punishment of journalists from countries with which the Trump administration has tense or adversarial relations. The singling out of Chinese journalists for especially harsh 90-day limits is an explicit signal that Washington is prepared to wield visa policy as a geopolitical stick, not a neutral administrative tool, he pointed out.

Once this precedent is established, nothing prevents the administration from tightening the screw further on reporters from other states whose governments it wishes to pressure—or punish.

The result would be a two-tiered press landscape in which journalists from favored countries enjoy relative stability, while those from disfavored states face constant uncertainty and the implicit demand to “behave,” he declared.

Dr. Ben-Meir said foreign governments and international bodies, including the UN, should make it clear that undermining foreign press access in the United States will invite reciprocal restrictions on American journalists abroad—further isolating US audiences from the world.

And American citizens, who ultimately bear the cost of an information-starved public sphere, must insist that their government not abuse immigration law as a backdoor censorship tool.

IPS UN Bureau Report

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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.

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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

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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

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Collective care should not be reduced to practices that merely keep us strong enough to survive hostile conditions. Collective care should also make us question, resist, and transform the very systems of power that generate harm. Credit: Humanis

By Nisrina Nadhifah Rahman
Jul 2 2026 (IPS)

“To respect strength, never power” is one of my favorite quotes from the acclaimed writer and activist, Arundhati Roy. For years, this quote has stayed with me. It encourages a way of life grounded in compassion rather than dominance.

It was particularly on my mind as I returned from the June 2026 Digital Rights Asia-Pacific Assembly (DRAPAC26) in Manila, an annual forum organized by EngageMedia. Co-hosted by local partners, the Foundation for Media Alternatives (FMA) and DAKILA, it brought together more than 800 digital rights practitioners, researchers, funders, journalists, technologists, and activists from across the Asia-Pacific region.

But my participation in DRAPAC started long before I arrived in Manila. Throughout the first half of 2026, through the Connect, Defend, Act! program, I had been engaging with civil society actors at workshops held across different regions.

Moving in harmony with one another

During a session on collective care at one of them, we asked if abstract principles like human rights, solidarity, resilience, and collective care could be translated into concrete care practices. If so, what would that look like?

One group responded with a local expression: “Na Pada Ajong Ta.” It means to move in harmony with one another, walking side by side and sharing a common rhythm.

I was instantly struck by the phrase.

AI outputs are shaped not only by data, but also by the social, political, and economic structures that determine whose knowledge is collected, whose views and experiences are prioritized, and whose realities are ignored

We are constantly being told to “unite” by both figures of authority and agents of change. But what they want is us to move in the same direction, at the same pace, and with the same voice. Yet perhaps what we need is something closer to “Na Pada Ajong Ta,” walking side by side without marching in lockstep.

Resilience is important, but so is interrogating power

The DRAPAC Assembly took me back to these questions about power, accountability, humanity, and collective care, especially in the discussions on how we frame activists and human rights defenders.

An important discussion revolved around the growing glorification of the “resilience” of activists and human rights defenders. Stories of sacrifice, adaptation, and perseverance are often presented as inspiring accounts of brave individuals fighting for justice in increasingly challenging environments.

Yet I found myself wondering: What happens when resilience becomes an unquestioned virtue? What if our admiration for people’s endurance blinds us to the systems that oppress them? Or traps us in a worldview that celebrates those strong enough to endure, while those who struggle or fall behind are quietly left to fend for themselves?

So, interrogating power in conversations about resilience also means challenging a narrow understanding of collective care. It should not be reduced to practices that merely keep us strong enough to survive hostile conditions. Collective care should also make us question, resist, and transform the very systems of power that generate harm.

AI (just like any other technology) is never neutral

Throughout DRAPAC, countless sessions explored different dimensions of Artificial Intelligence (AI). For me, the most interesting ones treated AI as a political development.

One recurring insight was that AI outputs are shaped by far more than users’ prompts. They are also influenced by invisible system prompts, training datasets, institutional priorities, commercial interests, and political decisions embedded within the technology itself.

In other words, AI reflects the values, assumptions, and most importantly, the power relations built into it.

One of the most well-known principles in computer programming is the phrase “Garbage In, Garbage Out” (GIGO). At its simplest, the principle suggests that the quality of an output depends on the quality of the input.

But after the discussions at DRAPAC, I have come to see GIGO as more than a technical principle. It is also a political one. “Garbage In, Garbage Out” is ultimately a question of power. AI outputs are shaped not only by data, but also by the social, political, and economic structures that determine whose knowledge is collected, whose views and experiences are prioritized, and whose realities are ignored.

The power of the attention economy

Writer and scholar Alfie Bown’s 2022 book, Dream Lovers: The Gamification of Relationships, explores how human desires are increasingly shaped to suit certain economic and political agendas, creating a profound dependency on algorithm-driven technology.

At DRAPAC’s “Algorithm Anonymous” session, we also explored how digital platforms are actually systems of control designed to both capture attention and influence habits, desires, and emotional attachments.

We started off by acknowledging that our choices, behaviors, and things we pay attention to online are often shaped by algorithms. And we examined the deceptive design tricks used by websites and apps that get users to do things they hadn’t planned to, like buying something, sharing more data, or signing up for services.

Then we reflected on how social media, fitness applications, and health platforms create validation loops that encourage continuous engagement, often treating privacy and user agency as an afterthought.

The many forms power takes

As I left DRAPAC, I couldn’t help but think that Arundhati Roy’s reminder to “respect strength, never power,” is perhaps not enough. Because strength, much like power, also has layers that need to be scrutinized and questioned. And while doing so, we also need to re-examine our own roles and individual social and political identities.

We must be clear on where we stand in relation to the systems and structures around us. That doesn’t mean to stop questioning power, but to remain curious about the many forms it takes, including those we may have internalized without realizing it.

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

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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

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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

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Afghan media workers face growing restrictions under Taliban rule, with women journalists pushed further from reporting, broadcasting and public visibility. Credit: Learning Together.

By External Source
KABUL, Jun 11 2026 (IPS)

Afghanistan ranks 175th in the Reporters Without Borders Press Freedom Index this year. Out of 180 countries on the list, only Iran, Syria, China, North Korea and Eritrea ranked lower than Afghanistan.

Arrests narrow opportunities for work

The Taliban’s arrests and imprisonment of journalists have further narrowed opportunities for journalism.

Several prominent journalists are currently in prison. They include Shakib Ahmad Nazari, who is reportedly being held for collaborating with international media outlets. He was arrested in 2025 and sentenced to three years in prison according to sources.

Spokespersons for government ministries and agencies are reluctant to speak to female journalists and often do not even provide basic information or short statements. In the past, we had to sit in the last row of benches at press conferences, but recently we have not even been allocated seats anymore

Hamid Farhadi, a prominent freelance journalist, was arrested in September 2024 while working for foreign media outlets and the Afghan Etilaat Roz media outlet. He was sentenced to two years in prison. According to the human rights organization Amnesty International, Farhadi was sentenced without right to legal representation.

His arrest was allegedly related to a report he made for foreign media outlets about the situation of women and girls in Afghanistan.

The media in Afghanistan is overseen by the Taliban-run Audit Commission. Journalist and former member of the commission, Bashir Hatef, was arrested in 2025 for collaborating with foreign media and sentenced to two years in prison.

Self-censorship has become a daily routine

The arrests of male journalists, however, pale in comparison to the situation of female journalists, who face professional restrictions and are subject to gender-based discrimination. Over the past four years, many have been threatened, arrested, banned from work or treated violently.

Samandar (name changed) has 13 years of experience in television and radio. According to her, journalists currently do not have the right to criticize the Taliban, officials or state institutions.

Journalists are also not able to choose their guests freely. Only experts approved by the Taliban can be invited to programs that cover politics. Regular street interviews are practically impossible.

“We are forced to self-censor or our employer gets into trouble and we are threatened with imprisonment. So we remove criticism of the Taliban from our programs,” says Samandar.

Self-censorship is also visible in practice. A well-known television channel in Kabul – whose name will not be revealed for security reasons – was planning a program on the role of women journalists in communication.

Everything was ready and guests had been invited. However, the program had to be canceled because it was feared that the discussion would cause problems for both the channel and the guests.

Female journalists face double restrictions

Salma (name changed) is a female journalist with a journalism degree and nine years of work experience. She describes how spokespersons for government ministries and agencies are reluctant to speak to female journalists and often do not even provide basic information or short statements.

Routine press conference arrangements have also changed, she says. “In the past, we had to sit in the last row of benches at press conferences, but recently we have not even been allocated seats anymore.”

According to her, separate rooms have been built for women, from where they can follow the events but not participate in them equally.

“A partition has been erected in the hall, and we are forced to sit in a separate booth. We can only listen to the speeches of officials but are not allowed to ask questions.”

Even when questions are allowed in exceptional cases, limits are placed on what can be asked. “On rare occasions, when questions are allowed, we are not allowed to ask anything critical.”

Questions can only be asked at certain events where Taliban-approved officials, such as Zabihullah Mujahid, are present. He is considered somewhat more flexible in his approach to female journalists.

According to Salma, the restrictions do not end there. Movement and work are closely monitored.

“At press conferences, officials from the Taliban’s Ministry of Virtue and Prevention of Vice demand to know who we are with and whether we have a male escort.”

Salma also criticizes news directors who favor male journalists. According to her, it is well known in newsrooms that women are practically prevented from doing normal journalistic work and that Taliban representatives do not want to talk to female journalists.

“In most media outlets, we are not treated as employees but rather as interns who are paid only for our travel expenses. The media outlets take advantage of the restrictions imposed by the Taliban on female journalists.”

According to Salma, many women accept the situation because there are few options.

“In addition to the restrictions imposed by the Taliban, we are forced to tolerate this abuse so that we are not completely excluded from editorial and media work.”

No more female journalists in many provinces

Due to Taliban restrictions, female journalists are required to be accompanied by a male guardian even when they are supposed to be at work elsewhere, which is often practically impossible. Some women have left their jobs for fear that their family members could be arrested.

A writer in Kandahar, “Shazia,” uses a pseudonym. According to her, the restrictions on interviews imposed by the Taliban have significantly changed the way they work.

Male colleagues conduct the interviews, and female journalists have to rely on their recordings when writing their articles. Male colleagues are not always willing to cooperate in situations when follow-up questions or supplementary interviews are needed for a story.

Articles written by women are often published under the names of male colleagues. Women’s voices are not even allowed to be heard on the radio.

According to Reporters Without Borders, four out of five female journalists and media workers in Afghanistan lost their positions after the Taliban returned to power.

Before August 2021, there were 2,490 women working in the media, of whom only about 410 continued to work after the Taliban took power. According to the organization, there are no active female journalists in 15 of Afghanistan’s 34 provinces.

Ban on image further tightens surveillance

Freedom of speech in Afghanistan is also significantly restricted by the ban on the display of images of living beings.

According to the Afghan Journalists Center, the ban is in force in at least 23 provinces. Reports indicate that many media outlets have been forced to switch to audio-only format and at least 20 television stations have been closed.

Dwindling female journalists work in the media industry

Recent data highlights the scale of decline in Afghanistan’s media workforce. According to Naeem (not real name), a member of association of media organization, there are currently 4,073 male journalists and 746 female journalists working across the country.

Another female journalist, Nabila (not real name) provided similar figures, estimating that more than 4,700 journalists remain active, around 700 of them women.

These figures reflect a sharp contraction compared to previous years. According to Reporters Without Borders (RSF), there were previously around 700 women journalists working in Kabul alone; that number has now dropped to fewer than 100

Laila (name changed) was previously part of one of three women-led journalist associations and unions that supported female journalists before the Taliban returned to power.

She says none of these groups is active anymore. According to her, institutions and organizations can no longer be officially registered in women’s names under the Taliban regime.

The media sector in Afghanistan is also structurally restricted. There is no clear legal framework, live broadcasts are prohibited, the number of guests on programs is limited, and access to information is difficult.

Excerpt:

 
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.

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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

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Credit: Africa Center for Strategic Studies

By Kester Kenn Klomegah
MOSCOW, May 18 2026 (IPS)

Under the auspices of the Faculty of Journalism of Lomonosov Moscow State University, the Russian-African Club, in late April, held its IV International Forum of Journalists from Russia and Africa, which marked another historical milestone. According to an established annual tradition, discussions were focused on aspects of the media, its structure, current performance, information contents, and challenges as well as future perspectives.

The shared common purpose was also to critically review whether the media, both in Africa and in the Russian Federation, have played its role in strengthening bilateral relations, and promoted the important goals set out during the first and second Russia-Africa summits. Why Media?

As largely expected, there were in-depth discussions. There were also controversies over the dynamics of media performance, with prominent participating experts raising narratives and criticisms, in the context of the forum’s theme: “Mass Media of Russia and Africa: The Role in Strengthening Friendship and Solidarity among the Peoples of the World.”

Elena Vartanova, dean of the Faculty of Journalism at Moscow State University, pointed to the fact that the media has to build diverse partnerships between Russia and Africa, further emphasized the importance of intercultural dialogue in creating a unified information space amid the complex global transformations of the modern world.

Yaroslav Skvortsov, dean of the Faculty of International Journalism at MGIMO, spoke about his recent unique trip to South Africa, noting that South Africa and the continent as a whole remain a “media blind spot” for Russian media, just as Russia receives very little coverage for African audiences.

The expert emphasized the need for serious, thoughtful, and in-depth reporting work in this area. The necessity to explore more opportunities in building strong ties, deepening the understanding of geopolitical developments, while fostering dialogue among the continent’s public.

Underlining Reasons

The media performance gap between Russia and Africa stems from overwhelming dominance of Western media outlets, a little of direct African reporting in Russia (including a lack of accredited African journalists), and limited institutional investment. These are some of the reasons highlighted during the discussions by an African studies journalist and columnist for the ITAR-TASS Analytical Center, Oleg Osipov, Timur Shafir, Secretary of the Union of Journalists of Russia and Head of the International Department of the Union of Journalists of Russia, and Louis Gowend, chairman of the Commission for Relations with African Diaspora and the Media of the Russian-African Club of Moscow State University, and president of the African Business Club.

Oleg Osipov, unreservedly, expressed concern about information deficit in Russian and African journalism, emphasized the urgent need to expand the network of Russian correspondent offices across the African continent, as well as getting a few experienced African media practitioners to Russia. This is especially important in today’s reality, as geopolitics heightens in the world.

Assessing current global trends, Russia needs to expand its presence in all spheres, and the media space is a crucial component of this process, the Russian expert believes. But for Timur Shafir, the thoughts were on the fact that it was especially important now to find common grounds in the mutual perceptions of the peoples and cultures of Russia and Africa through media communication.

In addition, he further emphasized that the media landscape is currently undergoing significant transformations, with technologies, audiences, and means of communication changing. Therefore, journalism is currently an area of particular responsibility and professional integrity, and direct dialogue between journalists in Russia and Africa has become crucial now.

Search for New Approach

The IV International Forum of Journalists from Russia and Africa, was considered as the new dawn, turning a new chapter with suggestion and paving the path for improving media performance in both regions. The participants offered a deafening applause to this position. The speakers expressed confidence that the Forum will serve as a starting point for many new joint initiatives.

According to Louis Gowend, the RusAfroMedia media platform—an information resource, which was created by the Moscow State University RA Club in 2022, for instance has to undergo serious facelifting, by strengthening cooperation and to improve the image of Russia-Africa cooperation.

This platform provides all the conditions for a free and frank exchange of opinions, relevant useful information, and the promotion of initiatives in all areas of cooperation between Russia and Africa. The speaker expressed concern over the fact that Russian journalists are much less active on the RusAfroMedia platform than their African counterparts and urged those present to make greater use of this resource.

In his contribution, Alexander Berdnikov, executive secretary of the Russian-African Club, distinctively noted that, at a time when new development trends are unfolding in the world, journalism and the entire media sphere are literally becoming a battlefield for information wars and special operations.

The speaker reminded that the Forum, being held ahead of the Third Russia-Africa Summit scheduled for October 2026, indicates how crucial for participants to develop solutions and initiatives for cooperation in journalism between Russia and Africa, and which will form the basis for practical recommendations in preparation for the forthcoming African leaders’ Summit.

Preserving Traditional Practice

Lyubov Sakhno, head of the Protocol and African Section of the TASS International Relations Department, represented Russia’s oldest news agency and spoke about ITAR-TASS’s consistent efforts to provide African media with foreign-language news feeds. But then, Russian media expansion faces limited budget constraints.

According to her, over 400 media outlets in Africa use these resources. She also discussed the organization’s media forum, which traditionally takes place on the sidelines of the Russia-Africa Summit.

Sergey Grachev, deputy director of the Media Research and Analysis Directorate at Rossiya Segodnya International News Agency, agreed with his colleagues that today we are facing unprecedented pressure from Western media. African media, most often, depends on Western sources, which Russian officials argue creates a “vacuum” filled by biased or hostile information.

Despite this, Russian media projects in Africa continue to develop, presenting analytical models of Sputnik’s presence on social media, where it broadcasts in 33 foreign languages.

Editor-in-chief of the African Initiative news agency, Buinta Bembeeva, noted in her discussions that Africa has become noticeably, and more prominent in Russian news in recent years. The speaker discussed the African Initiative’s experience in Africa. The agency is noticeably represented in many African countries through cooperation agreements with local media outlets.

The agency also collaborates with bloggers and organizes a journalism school for young African journalists. This close, on-the-ground, direct collaboration with African media outlets is key to achieving full-scale journalistic activity.

Contributions from Nigerian Academics

Professor Babatunde Joseph, Kaduna State University, spoke about using strengthened strategic communications to strengthen partnerships and unite the cultures of African countries. He agreed with his Russian colleagues on the need to expand the presence of Russian news agencies in Africa and African media in Russia. The expert cited the example of a well-known British radio station that broadcasts in five languages in Nigeria alone: Hausa, Yoruba, Igbo, Pidgin English (called “Najin” there), and plain English. “This is a successful strategy,” the professor was forced to note.

Professor Mohammad Bashir Ali, Kaduna State University (Nigeria), leading the Nigerian delegation to the Forum, discussed at length, the traditional role of media in promoting economic and entrepreneurial cooperation between Russia and Africa. Despite the multiple challenges posed by the complex international environment in both Africa and Russia, there is enormous potential for opportunity in this area. He concluded that greater consolidation in the media sphere is essential.

Professors Yushau Ibrahim Ango and Ayodele Babatunde, both from Kaduna State University, presented a working paper entitled “African Creative Industries and Media Systems in the Context of Digitalization,” analyzing the impact of digital media on entrepreneurship in the Nigerian economy.

The paper, however, concluded that reliance on digital platforms introduces new vulnerabilities, including algorithmic unpredictability, into the economy. This paper contributed to entrepreneurship and media research by theorizing digital platforms as entrepreneurial infrastructure, which has implications for policy, platform governance, and understanding how media shapes economic life in the African context.

Concluding Remarks

Hafiz Basi, chairman of the Youth Projects Commission of the Russian-African Club, seriously echoed the opinion in closing remarks, stating that it is time to change outdated stereotypes that portray Russia and Africa through Soviet political clichés. “We need journalism that brings people together, not further distances,” Hafiz Basi emphasized. He also noted that the lack of accredited African journalists in Russia remains a pressing issue.

Meanwhile, African media outlets write about Russia primarily in political terms, failing to reveal the true depth of Russian culture and the soul of the Russian people. In his opinion, the Russia-Africa Journalists Forum, once more, demonstrated its importance, which discusses the most pressing issues, prospects, and strategies for strengthening media cooperation between Russia and Africa.

This is in reality, important during the time of rapid geopolitical changes, in response to the aggressive rhetoric of Western countries and their satellites, public diplomacy, soft power, and peacekeeping journalism which are becoming increasingly relevant careful analysis and take effective measures in building a solid foundation for Russian-African dialogue.

Kester Kenn Klomegah focuses on current geopolitical changes, foreign relations and economic development-related questions in Africa with external countries. Most of his well-resourced articles are reprinted in several reputable foreign media.

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Credit: Attila Kisbenedek/AFP

By Inés M. Pousadela
MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay, May 8 2026 (IPS)

When Péter Magyar took the stage in Budapest on the night of 12 April, he told the crowd they had ‘liberated Hungary’. The hyperbole seemed justified. His party, Tisza, had won a parliamentary supermajority on the highest turnout since Hungary’s first free election in 1990, ending 16 years of increasingly autocratic rule.

An autocracy built in plain sight

Ousted Prime Minister Viktor Orbán boasted of turning Hungary into a model of what he called ‘illiberal democracy’. When he returned to power in 2010, he set about dismantling every institution capable of constraining him. His party, Fidesz, rewrote the constitution, restructured the Constitutional Court and gerrymandered electoral districts so thoroughly that in 2014 and 2018, it won two-thirds of parliamentary seats on under half of the vote.

Public broadcasting became a party mouthpiece, and Orbán-connected oligarchs took over private media. Fidesz captured universities and arts bodies. The government used Pegasus spyware against opponents, demonised migrants and LGBTQI+ people as threats to the nation and passed a law criminalising attendance at Budapest Pride. Civil society organisations faced escalating restrictions on their funding, and the government created a Sovereignty Protection Office to investigate and harass them further. The Varieties of Democracy (V-Dem) index eventually downgraded Hungary to ‘electoral autocracy’ status — the first European Union (EU) member state to receive that designation.

The EU’s blind spot

The EU’s response was inadequate. In 2018, the European Parliament triggered Article 7(1) of the Treaty on European Union, the first step in a procedure that could, in theory, suspend a state’s voting rights. In practice, Article 7 was never fully applied, because doing so requires unanimous agreement among all other member states, and there are always states unwilling to go that far. The Rule of Law Conditionality Regulation, in force since 2022, allowed the EU to freeze up to US$32 billion in funds for Hungary, but this mechanism too was compromised by political calculation. In December 2023, the Commission released around US$12 billion in cohesion funds seemingly in exchange for Hungary lifting its veto on Ukraine aid, effectively trading rule-of-law conditionality for foreign policy compliance.

Ultimately, the EU did not solve its Orbán problem; Hungarian voters did. This suggests structural reforms are still needed to prevent another autocrat from playing the same blocking game Hungary did.

After Orbán

Previous opposition coalitions in Hungary failed partly because Orbán’s machine had a reliable weapon against them: the accusation that they served Brussels, Hungary-born funder George Soros and a cosmopolitan elite detached from Hungarian values. Magyar, a former Fidesz insider who broke with the party in February 2024 following a scandal over a presidential pardon granted to a man convicted of covering up child sexual abuse, was immune to that weapon. His campaign was deliberately post-ideological, focused on corruption, crumbling public services and economic stagnation, while Orbán ran a fear-based campaign centred on the EU and the war in Ukraine. Voters chose economic reality over a manufactured threat. In the end, the electoral architecture Orbán had built to reward the first-placed party converted Tisza’s win into a supermajority of 141 of 199 parliamentary seats.

But Magyar’s victory will not necessarily bring a progressive transformation. He is a conservative politician leading a centre-right party whose platform made no explicit commitment on LGBTQI+ rights. During the campaign, he criticised the Budapest Pride ban as a distraction rather than a rights violation, committing only to protecting freedom of assembly more broadly. His victory speech promised a Hungary where ‘no one is stigmatised for loving someone differently from the majority’, but this was a shift in tone rather than a policy commitment. LGBTQI+ rights are unlikely to regress further under Magyar, but recovery will depend on sustained pressure from civil society.

Orbán may be out of government, but Fidesz appointees remain embedded throughout the state apparatus. Magyar has pledged to invite the European Public Prosecutor’s Office to examine alleged misuses of EU funds, dismantle the Sovereignty Protection Office and drop proposed legislation that would have further extended powers to restrict civil society. Delivering on those pledges and unravelling 16 years of institutional capture will require sustained political will.

Hungarian civil society faces its first genuine opening in 16 years. To make the most of it, it will need to push hard and consistently for the restoration of civic space, the rule of law and LGBTQI+ rights, and not mistake a change of government for a change of direction.

For the EU, Magyar’s victory opens a window to change a decision-making structure that allows a single member state to hold the bloc’s foreign policy hostage. European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen’s call for qualified majority voting for foreign policy decisions may now gain traction. But the broader question of how the EU enforces its democratic standards against a member state determined to flout them remains open. The EU should resolve it before the next challenge arises.

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

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

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Hadi Ali Chatha (left) and Imaan Hazir Mazari (right) in the front seat, taking Asad Toor (at the back on the left) home after his release from Rawalpindi’s Adiala Jail, on March 17, 2024. Credit: Asad Toor

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Pakistan, May 5 2026 (IPS)

“We’ve abandoned this couple completely; we have not done even 1% of what they did for us all these years!” said journalist Asad Ali Toor.

Arrested on January 23, 2026, two lawyers, also husband and wife – Imaan Mazari and Hadi Ali Chatha – were sentenced the next day to 17 years under the Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act (PECA), 2016 (amended in 2025) – a law Mazari had described as even more ‘draconian’ than its original version. Fines of Rs36 million (USD129,261) each were also imposed on the two under Sections 9 (glorification of an offence), 10 (cyber terrorism), and 26-A (false and fake information) under the same law.

“They have not violated PECA, and in my opinion the prosecution failed to prove any of the ingredients of any offence under the law,” said human rights activist and lawyer Jibran Nasir. He added that “the military elite and the new chief justice in the Islamabad High Court have taken a personal dislike to Imaan and Hadi.  He noted that “The laws may be inherently flawed, even draconian, but more dangerous is their malicious application by the state.”

The amendments on PECA were pushed through parliament within a week, without debate, and signed into law by President Asif Ali Zardari. The move triggered nationwide protests by journalists and rights groups, who warned that the law lacked safeguards. The government, however, defended it as necessary to regulate social media, arguing that similar frameworks exist globally.

Charges, Judgment and Allegations

The judgment stated that Mazari was accused of “disseminating and propagating narratives that align with hostile terrorist groups and proscribed organisations”, while Chatha was charged with reposting her content. The police report also alleged her social media content portrayed the armed forces as ineffective against groups such as the Balochistan Liberation Army (BLA) and Tehreek-i-Taliban Pakistan.

Protestors gather outside the Islamabad Press Club to mark 100 days of the two lawyers’ continued detention. Credit: Rana Shahbaz

For Toor, who runs the YouTube channel Asad Toor Uncensored, the case is deeply personal. In 2024, he spent 20 days in Federal Investigation Agency custody and 12 in solitary confinement at Rawalpindi’s Adiala Jail, the same prison where the couple is now held.

Arrested on February 26, 2024, on “digital terrorism” charges linked to his coverage, among other things, of a Supreme Court ruling stripping the Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf of its election symbol, he was granted bail on March 17, 2024.

He credits Mazari and Chatha with securing his release. “They argued that journalists should not face criminal charges for “honest criticism” of court judgments, citing then Chief Justice of Pakistan Qazi Faez Isa and Attor­ney General for Pakistan Mansoor Usman Awan.”

But journalists like Toor are not alone in feeling what he describes as “a certain vacuum.”

Rana Shahbaz’s milk stall was demolished by the city administration. Credit: Rana Shahbaz

‘It Feels Like I’ve Lost My Right Arm’

The two lawyers had built a reputation for taking on cases few lawyers would touch.

“Imaan and Hadi have always taken up cases most lawyers shy away from due to their controversial or dangerous nature — including blasphemy accusations, enforced disappearances, and press freedom cases — often representing the most marginalised people, without charging anything,” said rights activist Usama Khilji, director of Bolo Bhi, an advocacy forum for digital rights.

“It feels like I’ve lost my right arm,” said a woman, who requested anonymity, as she struggles to secure the release of her brother and more than 400 others accused of blasphemy, languishing in jail across Pakistan.

“In the past three years, I have met countless lawyers and even judges, but no one fought like Imaan. She missed nothing – every detail mattered; she was relentless,” said the woman, talking to IPS.

Leading the campaign, she said most of the accused came from poor backgrounds. “She didn’t even charge for the photocopying of documents submitted to the court – she paid out of her own pocket.”

An Amnesty International poster protesting the 100 days since Hadi Ali Chatha and Imaan Hazir Mazari were jailed. Credit: Amnesty International

The sense of loss extends well beyond individual cases.

Rahat Mehmood, mother of missing poet and writer Mudassir Naru, who disappeared in 2018 described the couple’s arrest as devastating.

“It’s like my support system has collapsed,” she said over the phone from Faisalabad. “Not just for me—these two were a ray of hope, an anchor for hundreds of mothers, especially Baloch mothers.”

Mazari’s work, she said, was not limited to legal representation.

Her grandson, Sachal, was just six months old when his father was taken and later lost his mother in 2021. Court hearings, Mehmood recalled, became rare moments of relief. “They played hide-and-seek, raced around, and she would bring him toys and candy. Tell me—who does that?”

Although her son’s case has not been heard in over a year, Mehmood said that, with Mazari by their side, they had always had hope. “But now,” she added, “it’s all darkness.”

At the wedding of Imaan Mazari and Hadi Ali Chatha, Sachal (son of Mudassir Naru) sits between the two, on the far right; in black, Rahat Mehmood, Naru’s mother, sits. Credit: Rahat Mehmood

Mazari’s advocacy extended beyond the courtroom. She appeared in two of the three press conferences held by families of the blasphemy accused, which drew “huge crowds and media attention”. Today, more than 120 people are out on bail. “It’s because of the efforts of these two,” said the sister of the accused.

Their absence is being felt acutely among many others with the least protection.

A week after the lawyers’ arrest, Rana Shahbaz, a street vendor, went to visit Mazari in jail but was turned away. “I was told by jail authorities no one was allowed to meet her.” He had brought dry fruits, juices and clothes, which authorities refused to accept.

Shahbaz, president of the Anjuman Rehri Baan, Islamabad (association of street vendors), which represents over 20,000 street vendors, said Mazari had been instrumental in securing relief for them. Despite holding licences from the Metropolitan Corporation Islamabad, they routinely face raids and eviction by city administrations.

“Last year because of Madam Imaan, the Islamabad High Court stopped authorities from removing our stalls. She presented video evidence showing stalls being dismantled despite having permits,” Shahbaz said.

Since their arrest, he added, the pressure has returned.

“The day they were arrested, an official told us, ‘Call your lawyers now — I’ll see who stops me.’ She was right — only Madam Imaan had the courage to stand up for us,” said Shahbaz, whose stall has been destroyed thrice in the past two years.

“It costs Rs150,000 (USD 538) to set up these makeshift stalls – financed through a bank loan with a monthly instalment of Rs7,000 ($25). Each time authorities dismantle them, repairs cost up to Rs40,000 (US$144), making it impossible to keep up with repayments and pushing me toward default,” he said. Last week, despite having a valid licence, his lassi (yoghurt drink) and fresh milk stall were demolished.

The pretext for crackdowns can be anything—from late-night vending to fines for not displaying price lists or even refusing to offer “freebies” to the police. “Madam Imaan knew well that vendors are exempt from the curfew time for regular shops or that we can only display the price list once it comes from the city authorities and it doesn’t until midday,” he pointed out.

Like many others, Shahbaz said, the two lawyers worked for vendors for free. “We didn’t even know what the basic legal processes cost,” he said.

Muted Response

Despite the breadth of their work, support beyond affected communities has been limited.

“I hold both the journalist and legal fraternities responsible for doing virtually nothing,” said Toor. “Individual voices may struggle, but unions and bar councils have the power to pressure the government.”

Toor’s assessment is shared by lawyer Nasir. He acknowledged that the legal fraternity, with “many lawyers, like judges, appear to be motivated by self-preservation as opposed to the preservation of the constitutional and fundamental freedoms” and which has “blunted its effectiveness” and left it “equally vulnerable” in the long run.

Yet, even as this institutional weakness is laid bare, others frame the duo’s actions less as miscalculation and more as conscious defiance. Media development expert Adnan Rehmat argued that while some may see them as having paid a heavy price for their stance, the two have a long history of public-interest resistance. “They consciously chose to risk themselves to highlight state abuses, and their courage should be lauded—and we must continue raising our voices in their favour.”

As a result, sporadic protests have failed to shift the situation. With public pressure waning, the battle has moved to the courts.

An Uncertain Path

But even there, justice has remained elusive.

The Islamabad High Court refused interim relief. “Everyone knows the 17-year sentence is the product of a sham trial. No superior court in any modern judicial system would uphold it,” said senior advocate Faisal Siddiqi, the lawyer representing them.

Undeterred, the defence has moved the Supreme Court of Pakistan after the IHC failed to fix an early hearing for nearly two months – a delay which Siddiqui called “unheard of” and a ploy to “deny Imaan and Hadi their deserved liberty”.

The bail petition has since been accepted by the Supreme Court, offering a glimmer of hope. “It is our only and last hope,” said Siddiqi.

One hundred days on, that hope remains uncertain.

What is clearer, however, is the void left behind – felt in courtrooms, in protest spaces, and in the lives of those who had come to rely on the two lawyers willing to take risks few others would.

For many, it is not just their absence that is being measured in days but also the growing silence it has left behind.

“I cannot fathom why people like Imaan and Hadi are being punished—and for what,” said Mehmood. “They deserve to be saluted, not jailed!”

IPS UN Bureau Report

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Excerpt:

Press freedom is on the retreat across much of the world.

As documented by recent global surveys authored by the UN and media institutes, the erosion of an independent, fearless and diversified press is a trend that has worsened for well over a decade.

Farhana Haque Rahman

Delivering the 2026 Reuters Memorial Lecture on March 9, Carlos Dada, Salvadoran editor of El Faro, now operating in exile, did not mince his words:

“A far-right, populist, autocratic wave is taking the world by storm and breaking all the rules, and journalists, as in every authoritarian regime or dictatorship, no matter its ideological foundations, are labelled as enemies. Journalism is being criminalized, and our colleagues are being imprisoned or killed.”

Just days earlier, El Salvador’s President Nayib Bukele was described by the Autonomous University of Barcelona as imposing one of the most restrictive environments for press freedom in Latin America through a “model of techno-populist authoritarianism”.

World Press Freedom Day, on May 3, has adopted as its declared theme: “Shaping a Future at Peace: Promoting Press Freedom for Human Rights, Development, and Security” – a challenging title given the wars, turmoil and economic crises currently besetting the world.

UNESCO, co-hosting the 2026 conference with the Zambian government in Lusaka on May 4-5, has itself charted a sharp decline in freedom of expression globally. Its 2022/2025 World Trends Report, Journalism: Shaping a World at Peace cites an increase in physical attacks, digital threats, and a surge in self-censorship among journalists.

This crisis is summed up by UNESCO as a “historically significant and unprecedented shift”, noting that for the first time in 20 years non-democratic regimes outnumber democracies. Some 72 percent of the world’s population lives under “non-democratic rule”, the highest proportion since 1978.

This decline in press freedom, plurality and diversity “mirrors broader patterns: weakened parliaments and judicial institutions, falling levels of public trust, and deepening polarization. It has also coincided with setbacks in equality, alongside rising hostility toward environmental journalists, scientists, and researchers”, UNESCO’s report says.

It also warns how “the growing dominance of major technology companies – and the consequences of their shifting policies and practices – have created fertile ground for hate speech and disinformation to spread online.”

In its World Press Freedom Index for 2025, Reporters Without Borders (RSF) says physical attacks against journalists are the most visible violations of press freedom but “economic pressure is also a major, more insidious problem”.

“Much of this is due to ownership concentration, pressure from advertisers and financial backers, and public aid that is restricted, absent or allocated in an opaque manner,” RSF states. “Today’s news media are caught between preserving their editorial independence and ensuring their economic survival.”

“For the first time in the history of the Index, the conditions for practising journalism are ‘difficult’ or ‘very serious’ in over half of the world’s countries and satisfactory in fewer than one in four.”

World Press Freedom Day goes back to a 1993 decision by the UN General Assembly to commemorate the Declaration of Windhoek, a statement of free press principles produced by African journalists in 1991.

But as RSF notes, press freedom in Sub-Saharan Africa is experiencing a worrying decline. The economic score of the index deteriorated in 80 percent of countries in the region.

Overall Eritrea (180th) remained the worst-ranking country. The Democratic Republic of the Congo fell 10 places to 133rd as its economic indicator plummeted. Conflict zones saw sharp declines in press freedom in Burkina Faso, Sudan and Mali with newsrooms forced to self-censor, shut down or go into exile.

“The hyper-concentration of media ownership in the hands of political figures or business elites without safeguards for editorial independence remains a recurring problem,” RSF says, citing issues in Cameroon, Nigeria and Rwanda.

Nonetheless higher-ranking countries, such as South Africa, Namibia, Cape Verde and Gabon “provide rays of hope”, RSF adds.

A clear casualty of the toxic combo of autocratic populists, media-owning cronies and dwindling budgets is coverage of climate change. Even normally heavy-hitting media groups are cutting back their reporting of the global climate crisis in another blow to the key SDG Target of promoting public access to information.

China remains the “world’s largest jail for journalists”, ranking 178th on RSF’s global press freedom index, one place above North Korea.

Bangladesh ranked 149th in the World Press Freedom Index. Following the parliamentary elections in February this year, RSF has urged the new Bangladeshi government to put an end to arbitrary detentions, the instrumentalization of the justice system and impunity for crimes against journalists. Such abuses have caused lasting damage to the country’s press.

Summing up the state of the press following Perugia’s annual International Journalism Festival in April, Carole Cadwalladr, investigative journalist for The Nerve — a “fearless, female-founded, truly independent [UK] media title” – commented: “There’s “not much light in these dark times” while referencing the killing by Israeli forces of over 200 Palestinian journalists and media workers since the Hamas attacks on Israel in October 2023.

But she did feel an “energy” at the festival held in the Italian hill-top city.

“All across the world, there are journalists doing the hard yards of trying to hold power to account,” she wrote. “And increasingly, this is being done by small, insurgent new outlets that are sprouting up because there is a gap that needs to be filled.”

Or as Dada, editor of El Salvador’s exiled El Faro, declared in his lecture:

“We are journalists in resistance. In resistance to the violation of our rights, the shuttering of public information… resistance to limitless power. We practised journalism in democracy for a quarter century. That era is gone. Today, we are a newsroom in resistance.”

Farhana Haque Rahman is Senior Vice President of IPS Inter Press Service and Executive Director IPS Noram; she served as the elected Director General of IPS from 2015-2019. A journalist and communications expert, she is a former senior official of the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization and the International Fund for Agricultural Development.

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Credit: Zohra Bensemra/Reuters via Gallo Images

By Nwabueze Chibuzor and Mighulo Masaka
ABUJA, Nigeria / NAIROBI, Kenya, Apr 22 2026 (IPS)

In many countries across Africa, people have recently lined up to vote. But in country after country, there has been no real choice on offer. As CIVICUS’s 2026 State of Civil Society Report documents, what has frequently been on display is a procedural ceremony of democracy, orderly enough to satisfy observers, but hollow enough to leave those who hold the reins of power untroubled. Laws and structures that were supposed to promote democratic decisions have been manipulated into compliance checks, ticking all procedural requirements while lacking democratic substance. In too many cases, the ballot box has become a public relations exercise.

Tanzania offered a stark illustration. Once seen as one of the continent’s rising democratic hopes, it held one of the most deeply flawed recent elections. Ahead of the October 2025 vote, President Samia Suluhu Hassan disqualified and detained most opposition figures and imposed a nationwide internet blackout. When people protested, they were severely repressed. Security forces fired live ammunition, killing over 700 protesters, and arrested thousands. Around 240 people, including children, have since been charged with criminal conspiracy and treason.

Uganda’s President Yoweri Museveni, in power since 1986, followed the same script: the 2026 presidential election as marked by widespread rigging, suppression of the opposition, internet outages and a lethal crackdown on protests. These shows of force were also an admission of weakness: governments with genuine popular support do not need them to stay in office.

In Kenya, election outcomes have increasingly shifted from the ballot box to the courtroom and the streets. While legal challenges and judicial oversight can be signs of a healthy democracy, there’s been growing normalisation of post-election uncertainty about whether results will be respected, with the state framing any challenge to outcomes as a threat to national security and stability, and responding to post-election protests with violence.

Further north, Tunisia exemplifies the slow-motion dismantling of a once-promising democracy. Its 2024 presidential election saw the incumbent face only token opposition. President Kais Saied has systematically removed democratic checks and balances, jailed opponents and vilified critics as agents of foreign powers. The country that once kept the democratic promise alive in North Africa has become a cautionary example of how quickly gains can be reversed.

In West Africa, military rule is being normalised. Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger are now led by military juntas, while in Guinea a carefully stage-managed December 2025 election enabled the military leader to retain power with a varnish of legitimacy. Elections in Côte d’Ivoire in 2025 and Togo in 2024 fell far short of competitive standards.

Senegal offered a rare exception: when President Macky Sall attempted to postpone the 2024 presidential election just days before voting, widespread protests and sustained international pressure forced the polls to proceed. Opposition candidate Bassirou Diomaye Faye, released from jail only days before the vote, won a shock victory — proof that electoral integrity remains worth fighting for.

In Central Africa, military rulers have simply changed into civilian clothes. General Oligui Nguema, who ended the 56-year Bongo family dynasty in a 2023 coup, retained power in an April 2025 election marked by the absence of a credible opposition and the abuse of state resources, making the outcome a foregone conclusion. Chad’s Mahamat Déby followed the same path, transitioning from military council head to elected president through a vote held under severe civic space restrictions and minimal competition.

In October 2025, Cameroon’s Paul Biya, at 92 the world’s oldest head of state, extended his 42-year rule through a highly performative election. In both the Central African Republic and the Democratic Republic of the Congo, recent elections have been undermined by the state’s inability to control its territory amid ongoing conflicts, disenfranchising vast majorities and producing winners whose legitimacy is in permanent doubt.

Southern Africa offers a more encouraging picture. South Africa’s 2024 election ended almost three decades of unchallenged African National Congress dominance, with new political parties reshaping the landscape and forcing the formation of a coalition government. Elections in Botswana, Malawi and Namibia were competitive, with power changing hands for the first time since independence in Botswana. These results are a reminder that elections can still serve their democratic purpose.

The pattern across most of the continent is unmistakable. As civic space comes under intensifying attack, Africa’s citizens, institutions and international partners must resist the temptation to confuse orderly processes with democratic substance. Elections must offer genuine opportunities for accountability and be allowed to produce results that disrupt established power, if that is what voters want. Anything less risks normalising the appearance of democracy while hollowing out its content.

Chibuzor Nwabueze is the Programme and Network Coordinator of the Digital Democracy Initiative at CIVICUS.

Mighulo Masaka is the Project Officer, Host Liaison of the Digital Democracy Initiative, working closely with civil society in the global south for election-related activities.

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A view of the rubble in Jabalia, northern Gaza, after heavy Israeli bombardment. Credit: UNICEF/Rawan Eleyan

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

Roughly six months after the ceasefire in the Occupied Palestinian Territory went into effect, the humanitarian situation in Gaza remains precariously fragile, despite a relative decline in hostilities. The crisis, marked by ongoing Israeli airstrikes and shelling, continued blockades on humanitarian aid, and widespread displacement, has pushed the majority of Palestinians in Gaza to the brink. Amid the vast scale of needs, basic services are increasingly strained, and humanitarian experts warn that the situation could deteriorate further in the coming months unless sustained aid and funding are secured.

A new report from the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestinians in the Near East (UNRWA) on the current conditions in Gaza confirmed a continuation of airstrikes, shelling, and gunfire across multiple areas, including Beit Lahia, Jabalia, Deir al Balah, Khan Younis, Rafah, and Bureij. The Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) estimates that since the eruption of hostilities on October 7, 2023, approximately 72,315 Gazans have been killed and another 172,137 injured.

“The scale and pattern of these actions, occurring alongside mass displacement of Palestinians from their homes and land in Gaza shows once again the ongoing broader policy of ethnic cleansing across the occupied Palestinian territory,” said a group of United Nations (UN) experts on April 13. “This cycle of displacement, terror, and targeted attacks serves an ultimate purpose: to make life unbearable for Palestinians and permanently force them from their land…Targeting areas known to shelter displaced civilians is a grave breach of international humanitarian law and is a grim reminder of the urgent need for international action and accountability.”

According to Palestine’s Ministry of Health, at least 32 Gazans have been killed by Israeli forces in early April alone. Airstrikes, gunfire, and shelling are daily occurrences, with women, children, disabled persons, humanitarian workers, and journalists being routinely targeted. On April 9, a young girl was killed by Israeli gunfire in a crowded classroom-turned-makeshift encampment.

“For the past 10 days, Palestinians are still being killed and injured in what is left of their homes, shelters, and tents of displaced families, on the streets, in vehicles, at a medical facility and in a classroom,” said United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights Volker Türk. “Movement itself has become a life-threatening activity. Incidents of Palestinians killed by Israeli forces while walking, driving, or standing outside are recorded nearly every day.”

The Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) also confirmed that there have been increasing cases of Israeli forces killing Palestinians based on their proximity to the “yellow line”, a line of demarcation that divides the Palestinian-controlled areas of Gaza and the Israeli-controlled areas. “Targeting civilians not taking direct part in hostilities is a war crime, regardless of their proximity to deployment lines,” said Türk

On April 6, Israeli forces shot at vehicles from the World Health Organization (WHO), killing a driver. Two days later, Israeli drone strikes killed Al Jazeera journalist Mohamed Washah in Gaza City, marking the 294th Palestinian journalist to be killed by Israeli forces since October 7, 2023. Additionally, Israel has continued to ban international journalists from accessing Gaza, further compounding the regional decline of journalistic freedom.

“The number of journalists and humanitarian personnel killed in Gaza is unprecedented, and further compounds civilian harm as it makes reporting on the situation and responding to its humanitarian implications life-threatening,” added Türk.

Internal displacement is particularly rampant, with OCHA estimating that routine evacuation orders and bombardment have affected roughly 92 percent of all housing across the enclave, with the vast majority of affected communities having been displaced multiple times. Civilians residing in overcrowded, makeshift encampments are disproportionately affected by insecurity, freezing temperatures, building collapse, and a severe shortage of humanitarian aid and basic services.

Humanitarian movement remains severely constrained, with all UNRWA staff banned from accessing the entire Occupied Palestinian Territory since March 2025. The agency, which has long acted as a critical lifeline for Palestinians, has pre-positioned food parcels, flour, and shelter supplies at Gaza’s borders, which could help hundreds of thousands of Gazans.

Thousands of Palestinians across the enclave are in urgent need of medical care as Gaza’s health system nears the brink of collapse, facing severe shortages of supplies amid an influx of injured and ill patients. Medications are critically short in supply, and UNRWA has reported a sharp uptick in cases of ectoparasitic infections such as scabies and fleas, as well as chickenpox and other skin diseases, which have been linked to disrupted water and hygiene (WASH) services, overcrowding, and pests.

Despite these challenges, humanitarian experts have expressed optimism that the situation in Gaza could improve as access constraints begin to fade. Following nearly 40 days of closure, the critical Zikim crossing reopened in early April, allowing nutritional and health supplies to reach northern Gaza directly. UNRWA is currently supporting over 67,000 displaced individuals across 83 collective emergency shelters, with over 11,000 personnel providing lifesaving care.

UNRWA, in collaboration with WHO, the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF), and Palestine’s Ministry of Health, reached almost 2,100 children under three years of age with vaccinations between April 5 and 9. WHO and its partners have also been facilitating dozens of medical evacuations through the Rafah border crossing and providing access to medical care, food, water, and psychosocial services to returning Gazans.

The UN experts stressed that a definitive end to hostilities, an expansion of protection services, and the unimpeded delivery of humanitarian aid are crucial in coordinating an effective return to stability in Gaza. Additionally, the experts called on Israeli authorities to ensure a safe and dignified return to Gaza for displaced individuals, as well as the lifting of restrictions for UNRWA operations.

“We reiterate our call on States to bring Israel’s unlawful occupation to an end and ensure the immediate protection of civilians sheltering in displacement sites across the Gaza Strip, including by scaling up vital humanitarian assistance,” the experts said. “States must comply with their legal obligations. They must bring Israel’s unlawful occupation to an end, refrain from recognising it and withhold assistance to it, and take effective measures to ensure investigations and accountability for grave violations of international law in the occupied Palestinian Territory.”

IPS UN Bureau Report

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

Wairagala Wakabi

How widespread is AI-powered surveillance in Africa?

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

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

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

Are these systems achieving their stated purpose?

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

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

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

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

Who’s supplying this technology?

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

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

What impact is this having on civic space?

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

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

What should governments and civil society do?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Credit: Mamunur Rashid/NurPhoto via AFP

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

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

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

The uprising

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

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

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

Reforms in the balance

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

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

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

A dynasty returns

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ivan Kibangou Ngoy

How can the 94.8 per cent result be explained?

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

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

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

How was competition restricted?

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

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

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

Why is the internet cut off during elections?

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

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

How has civil society mobilised despite restrictions?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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