Central Asian states mark the 20th anniversary of the Nuclear-Weapon-Free Zone Treaty with a joint foreign ministers' statement Credit: Kazakhstan MFA

By Katsuhiro Asagiri
TOKYO, Japan, Sep 11 2026 (IPS)

Twenty years after five Central Asian states signed a landmark treaty banning nuclear weapons across their region, their foreign ministers have used the anniversary to warn that faltering arms-control agreements, nuclear modernization and deepening international mistrust are placing global security under growing strain.

Central Asia Nuclear Free Zones

The ministers described the treaty as a symbol of Central Asia’s transformation from a region where nuclear weapons were once tested and deployed into one of the leaders of global disarmament efforts.

That history gives the anniversary weight. Semipalatinsk — now Semey — was the Soviet Union’s principal nuclear testing ground, where 456 tests were conducted between 1949 and 1989 across a site roughly the size of Belgium. An estimated 1.5 million people were affected by the fallout, and the health consequences have passed through three generations. Kazakhstan closed the site on August 29, 1991.

Semipalatinsk Former Nuclear Weapon Test site. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri

Warning After Another Failed NPT Review

The anniversary arrives at a difficult moment for the global nuclear order. The ministers reaffirmed the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) as the cornerstone of efforts to prevent proliferation and ultimately eliminate nuclear weapons, but expressed regret that its Eleventh Review Conference, held in New York from April 27 to May 22 this year, ended without a substantive outcome — the third consecutive review conference to close without consensus, following those of 2015 and 2022.

They voiced particular concern over insufficient progress toward disarmament under Article VI of the NPT, the cessation of key arms-control arrangements and an alarming trend toward the modernization of nuclear arsenals, placing special responsibility on nuclear-weapon states and calling for new, verifiable mechanisms to prevent a renewed arms race.

Even as the review process stalled, the zones drew attention as one of the regime’s more durable achievements. At a Kazakh-hosted event on the margins of the conference, Robin Geiß, Director of the UN Institute for Disarmament Research, credited the Central Asian zone with a distinctive contribution in linking security to development, environmental protection and public health, while Mark Melamed of the Nuclear Threat Initiative cautioned that the zones’ achievements cannot be assumed to endure.

CTBT at 30 — Still Not in Force

On September 24, the CTBT will mark 30 years since it opened for signature. Yet it has still not entered into force. The Central Asian states called for its earliest possible entry into force and urged all states to refrain from any action that could undermine the norm against nuclear explosive testing.

The appeal follows a joint statement issued on August 29 — the anniversary of the test site’s closure, observed by the United Nations as the International Day against Nuclear Tests — in which Kazakh Foreign Minister Yermek Kosherbayev and Robert Floyd, Executive Secretary of the Comprehensive Nuclear-Test-Ban Treaty Organization, urged renewed action to end testing permanently. Much of the treaty’s machinery already functions despite its legal limbo: 308 facilities have been certified, bringing the International Monitoring System to more than 90 percent completion.

More than 300 International Monitoring System (IMS) facilities certified out of the 337 the CTBTO has planned are already in operation. Credit: CTBTO

The ministers also welcomed the 2014 signing by the five NPT-recognized nuclear-weapon states of the protocol providing negative security assurances to the zone. Four have ratified it; the ministers expressed hope that the United States would complete its ratification.

A Regional Model in a Fragmenting Nuclear Order

The declaration went beyond treaties to emphasize disarmament education, backing continued observance of the International Day for Disarmament and Non-Proliferation Awareness — a Kyrgyz initiative marked annually on March 5, the date the NPT entered into force — and stressing the importance of involving young people.

Nuclear-weapon-free zones cannot substitute for the disarmament obligations of states that possess nuclear arsenals. But the Semipalatinsk Treaty demonstrates that non-nuclear states are not merely spectators in the global nuclear order: by acting collectively they can create binding regional norms and press nuclear-weapon states for security assurances.

Central Asia has also shown that such zones can become more than geographic prohibitions. The five states have signed memoranda of understanding with the African Commission on Nuclear Energy and with the Agency for the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons in Latin America and the Caribbean, which administers the 1967 Treaty of Tlatelolco, and Kazakhstan hosted in Astana in August 2024 the second meeting of representatives of all existing zones. The limits are equally clear: three decades of advocacy have not produced a zone in the Middle East, which the ministers again called for.

Equally important is the link between diplomacy and human experience. The Nevada-Semipalatinsk movement, which helped drive the test site’s closure, showed that public pressure could move nuclear policy — and for Kazakhstan, cooperation with civil society has since been less a supplement to disarmament diplomacy than part of its foundation.

September 8 carries another anniversary. On that date in 1957, before 50,000 young people gathered at a stadium in Yokohama, Josei Toda, second president of the Soka Gakkai, issued a declaration calling for the abolition of nuclear weapons, condemning them as an absolute evil that threatened the right of people everywhere to exist and entrusting their abolition to the next generation. The peace activity of Soka Gakkai International (SGI), a lay Buddhist organization, traces its origin to that declaration.

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

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

For Japanese readers the connection is direct. Hiroshima and Nagasaki experienced the use of nuclear weapons in war; Semipalatinsk experienced the consequences of testing them. During his visit to Japan in December 2025, President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev warned at United Nations University in Tokyo that nuclear risks were rising again, invoking all three names in a call for concrete steps to reduce nuclear danger.

Twenty years after the treaty was signed, its significance may lie not only in what Central Asia chose to reject, but in what it has continued to build — a regional security architecture that seeks to make nuclear weapons less central, less legitimate and, ultimately, unnecessary.

Note: This article is brought to you by　INPS Japan in collaboration with Soka Gakkai International in consultative status with ECOSOC.

IPS UN Bureau

On 2 September 2026, UNICEF staff and partners are distributing recreation kits at Child-Friendly Spaces (CFS) at the holding center for children affected by the recent flash floods in Nuwakot District, Bagmati Province, Nepal. Credit: UNICEF/Laxmi Prasad Ngakhusi

By Shreya Komar
UNITED NATIONS, Sep 11 2026 (IPS)

Two weeks after devastating floods struck Nepal, communities across the country are still struggling to meet basic needs as humanitarian efforts continue. The disaster, triggered by a glacial collapse, has become one of Nepal’s deadliest in recent years, leaving widespread destruction in its wake.

As of Wednesday, 1,367 people had been confirmed dead, while 5,132 remained missing, including 587 foreign nationals. 13,646 people have been rescued, but many families are still waiting for news about their loved ones. Search operations remain ongoing, including efforts to reach people who may still be trapped in tunnels and other difficult-to-access areas.

The scale of the destruction has made delivering aid particularly challenging. Floodwaters have damaged homes, roads, bridges, and other essential infrastructure, leaving some communities isolated. The Nepalese government has been using military helicopters to drop aid into areas that remain difficult to reach, while temporary bridges are also being constructed to reconnect communities that have received insufficient assistance.

Families urgently need food, clean drinking water, shelter and access to healthcare. Health services are particularly important for vulnerable groups, including an estimated 1,600 pregnant women who are expected to give birth soon. Ensuring that these women can reach medical facilities and receive appropriate prenatal and emergency care is a major concern.

Mental health support is another pressing need that could become increasingly important as the immediate emergency begins to subside. Survivors have lost homes, livelihoods and, in many cases, family members.

On Wednesday September 9, UN Resident Coordinator for Nepal Lila Pieters Yahia, briefed reporters at UN Headquarters on the ongoing humanitarian efforts by the UN and the Nepalese government.

“People were just so depressed,” Yahia reflected after her visit to the affected communities.

Many people are also coping with the uncertainty of not knowing whether missing relatives are alive. Reuniting separated families and children has therefore become another important part of the humanitarian response.

The United Nations and its humanitarian partners launched a USD 49.6 million flash appeal last Friday to provide life-saving assistance to people affected by the disaster. The appeal is intended to support critical needs including food, clean water, logistics and other immediate relief. So far, approximately USD 22 million has been pledged, leaving a significant funding gap.

The Nepal Red Cross Society is leading much of the humanitarian response, with support from the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies, the International Committee of the Red Cross and other humanitarian organizations. Aid is being distributed through a combination of government agencies, community organizations and non-governmental organizations. However, humanitarian officials continue to warn that access remains one of the greatest obstacles to reaching people in need.

Yahia described the destruction as an example of the increasingly severe losses faced by countries vulnerable to climate change. “The devastation Nepal has experienced is an extraordinary, stark illustration of the losses and damages that climate-vulnerable countries are increasingly facing,” she said.

Nepal’s experience has also renewed calls for greater international action on climate change and climate justice. As a mountainous country particularly vulnerable to changing weather patterns and the effects of a warming climate, Nepal faces a disproportionate burden.

Despite the enormous challenges, Yahia says aid is reaching many affected communities, and survivors continue to demonstrate hope. “People are still searching for family members they know they may never find,” she said, highlighting the resilience keeping people strong. Yet thousands of people remain in need, and the destruction of transportation networks means that reaching the most isolated communities will take time.

“My plea tonight to the international community: we need to demonstrate solidarity with the people of Nepal,” Yahia emphasized.

For Nepal, the emergency is far from over. The immediate priority remains saving lives and providing food, water, shelter and access to healthcare. As communities begin the long process of rebuilding, the country will also need sustained international support to recover from one of its most destructive disasters.

IPS UN Bureau Report

Since the Taliban seized power in August 2021, girls have been banned from schooling beyond the primary level and women’s employment has been severely restricted. Credit: Learning Together.

By External Source
KABUL, Sep 10 2026 (IPS)

Many wonder why men in Afghanistan do not protest when women’s rights are trampled upon. In reality, many are rebelling behind the scenes, for instance, by helping their daughters get an education.

“The only thing I can leave my daughter is an education”, says Yaser.

Every day before leaving for work, he checks whether the internet is working. He does this not for himself, but for his 18-year-old daughter, Mariam. Mariam has been unable to attend school for five years, but she can still study online, provided the internet connection holds.

Mariam shares this plight with two million other girls. When the Taliban seized power in August 2021, it became the only country in the world to ban girls from schooling beyond the primary level and severely restrict women’s employment. Afghan women have never been as invisible as they are now.

Other men I have interviewed have reached the same conclusion. Instead of protesting, they have begun supporting their daughters' studies at home. There are valid grounds for their fears, too

“I cannot reopen schools, but I encourage my daughter to continue her studies online. I encourage her to remain hopeful,” says Yaser.

Both within Afghanistan and internationally, many have wondered why men have not protested, even though their daughters have been deprived of educational opportunities. Why have they remained silent? But the question can also be framed differently: Have men been doing something else instead of staying all quiet?

To find answers, I spoke with fathers, uncles, teachers, and principals in Kabul, Herat, Mazar-e-Sharif, and several other provinces. I realized that what appears from the outside to be silence and acceptance of the situation is actually a form of quiet resistance.

Fear is a major reason why men remain silent.

“If I protest publicly, the Taliban will come to my home at night, beat me up, and take me away. What would happen to my wife and daughters then? But I can ensure my daughters are able to study online. That way, I won’t have to be ashamed of myself one day for having done nothing.”

Yaser tells the story of a man who criticized the closure of girls’ schools on Facebook.

“Two days later, the Taliban came and took him away. His family was beaten, too. The man wasn’t released until months later. I am terrified of that happening and don’t want the same thing to happen to my own family.”

Reports from human rights organizations corroborate Yaser’s account. The Taliban have detained and issued warnings to journalists and activists who have criticized the regime. They have been threatened with harsher measures if the criticism does not stop.

Ahmad, a Kabul resident, is the father of two daughters. He lost his job when the Taliban came to power and now takes on odd jobs whenever he can find them. Putting food on the table for his family is a daily struggle.

When I ask why he has never protested on behalf of his daughters, his answer is brief: “My wife and children would starve if I protested and got arrested. But I can send my daughter to a neighbor’s house to study. Before the Taliban took power, our neighbor was a university professor. Now, she teaches girls in her home.”

“It might not be a substitute for school, but it’s better than nothing”, says Ahmad

Ahmad falls silent for a moment before continuing his train of thought: “People have protested before. Women have marched in the streets but what did that change? Many of them are still paying a heavy price for it.”

Other men I have interviewed have reached the same conclusion. Instead of protesting, they have begun supporting their daughters’ studies at home. There are valid grounds for their fears, too.

For instance, in Herat, the Taliban detained university lecturer Qadoos Khatib and civil society activist Fayaz Ghori for posting videos and messages on social media advocating for girls’ education. Both emphasized that Afghanistan cannot develop without educating women.

Another case also came up repeatedly in my interviews.

University professor and former journalist Ismail Mashal refused to remain silent about the ban on girls’ education. He tore up his university diplomas during a live television broadcast and later distributed thousands of books to girls and women on the streets of Kabul.

The Taliban detained and brutally beat him. The books were confiscated.

For many of the men I interviewed, these events were not merely news stories, but reminders of what can happen if one speaks out. Many are looking for other ways to help their daughters.

Amir, 45, from Mazar-e-Sharif, never had the chance to go to school himself. He cannot read or write and has been working since childhood.

“My daughter means the world to me. I don’t want her to miss out on an education, the way I did”, says Amir.

Amir knew that some girls were studying online, but he couldn’t afford a mobile phone or an internet connection. So, he borrowed money from relatives to pay for them. Now, he works in a shop during the day and puts in extra hours at a tailor’s shop in the evenings to pay off his debt.

“If I don’t do everything I can for my daughter’s education today, what will she have for tomorrow?”

Amir owns no home and has no savings.

“The only thing I can leave my daughter is an education.”

It is not just about the girls; it is about the future of Afghanistan.

Farid, 38, does not have a daughter of his own, but every Friday he helps his 16-year-old niece with her studies at her home. Farid brings her books and downloads learning materials from the internet.

His niece’s dream was to become a doctor, and Farid does not want to let that dream die.

Farid believes that supporting girls is not solely the duty of fathers. It should be a shared responsibility for everyone.

Of the people I interviewed, the one who took the greatest risk was the principal of a private school. She wants to remain anonymous.

She refused to comply when the order came to stop educating girls after the sixth grade. Instead, she kept the girls officially registered as sixth graders for another two years and continued teaching them.

She knew she would lose everything if she were caught. When I asked if she was afraid, she smiled.

“Of course I was afraid. I have often had nightmares about it. But I couldn’t do otherwise when I saw the girls crying because their schooling was coming to an end.”

There are also those who believe girls do not need much education.

“Girls will get married eventually anyway. Basic literacy is enough for them,” said one man who did not wish to give his name. However, he was in the minority among the men I interviewed.

Most wanted educational opportunities for girls. They have not been able to change government policy, but they have found other ways to help their daughters continue their studies.

Excerpt:

Kamikawa Yoko, MP for Japan and Chair of AFPPD at the opening of the Asian Forum of Parliamentarians on Population and Development (AFPPD) annual conference held in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Credit: APDA

By Cecilia Russell
KUALA LUMPUR & JOHANNESBURG, South Africa, Sep 10 2026 (IPS)

“As parliamentarians, we should understand that behind every demographic indicator is a human story,” Kamikawa Yoko, MP Japan and Chair of AFPPD, reminded lawmakers in her opening address to the Asian Forum of Parliamentarians on Population and Development (AFPPD) annual conference held in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.

The conference, with the theme of ‘Parliamentary Leadership for the Future: An All-of-Society Approach to the Care Economy and Demographic Resilience,’ took place in the shadow of the devastating floods in Nepal, which Dr. Toshima Karki, MP Nepal, described as an “alarm from the roof of the world.” The impact of climate change on women, the elderly, and youth underpinned the concerns of many of the parliamentarians over the two-day conference.

Alexander Nanta Linggi, Minister of Works, Malaysia, opened with a strong statement about what parliamentary leadership means for the future.

“An all-of-society approach to the care economy and demographic resilience is ultimately about people,” he said.

“Parliamentarians have a unique role. We are not merely lawmakers. We are voices for our communities. We see the struggles of families caring for aging parents. We hear the concerns of young people uncertain about their future. We witness the inequalities that still affect women and vulnerable groups. This is why parliamentary leadership matters. We have the responsibility to translate lived realities into meaningful policy,” Linggi elaborated, adding that “a caring society is not a cost to be borne; it is an investment in social stability, economic resilience, and national well-being.”

Pio Smith, Deputy Executive Director of UNFPA and UN Assistant Secretary-General, noted the stark reality of fewer resources and the growing global polarization that parliamentarians were caught in.

“Doing more with less cannot mean doing less for those who need us most. It means making smarter choices, strengthening systems, improving efficiency, and ensuring that limited resources are directed toward investments that deliver lasting impact,” Smith said.

Dr. Toshima Karki, a member of Nepal’s House of Representatives, speaking at the AFPPD annual conference held in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Credit: APDA

Officially opening the conference, the President of the Senate of Malaysia, Dato Awang Bemee Awang Ali Basah, argued that “Demographic resilience requires an all-of-society approach. No single ministry or government can solve these challenges—we need government, parliament, the private sector, civil society, academia, communities, families, and individuals working together.”

During the two-day conference, there were many powerful presentations, intertwining social challenges of youth, women, and the elderly and climate change.

Howard Lee Chuan How, MP Malaysia and Secretary-General of AFPPD Global, said the organization’s move to Kuala Lumpur should mark a new phase of globalization. AFPPD’s 30 national committees represent countries with a combined population of more than 4.3 billion people, over half of humanity.

“The stories of our people are therefore not peripheral to the global debate. They are a major part of the human story. The solutions we develop across our region, from aging and fertility to youth, gender, care, and climate resilience, have the potential to help shape solutions for the world,” Lee said.

For Syerleena Abdul Rashid, MP Malaysia, this is deeply personal. She started her speech by telling the conference that her mother, aged 81, grew up without air conditioners and weather apps.

“She now also lives with dementia, so when the temperature rises, I cannot simply just send her a text message saying, ‘Mom, please drink more water.’ She may not read it, she may not remember it, and she may not recognize that she’s becoming dehydrated or unwell.”

Syerleena listed the issues.

By 2030, 15% of Malaysians will be 60 or older.

In Malaysia, floods in November and December 2024 affected over 137,000 people, including 40,000 displaced families.

Older persons face specific risks such as loss of medication, mobility challenges during evacuation, and the inability to access digital warnings.

Then she reminded parliamentarians of the policy gaps, including age-unfriendly disaster relief centers, which lack ramps, quiet spaces for dementia, or proper medical storage, and lack of data around age groups and specialized welfare checks for the elderly during heatwaves, and challenged them to fix these.

But it is not only the elderly that are affected.

Dolores Devesi, Director of the International Planned Parenthood Federation (IPPF) Sub-Regional Office for the Pacific, reminded the audience that the impact of a loss of time in school could have lifelong impacts.

“Schools become more than a place of learning. They connect girls to peers, and they also become a center of information sharing amongst peers… When these connections are interrupted, risks rise, and we already know… that gender-based violence, sexual exploitation and abuse, unintended pregnancy, STIs, early marriage, and so forth, also come into play.”

Counting the cost of young girls and adolescents is crucial, she says.

“When a cyclone destroys a school, when flooding cuts off a community, when families are displaced, we naturally count the infrastructure and the economic cost, but the questions we need to be asking ourselves are how many young girls stop going to school, how many adolescent-age children have stopped going to school, why, how come they haven’t returned to school, and why are they still not in school? What happened to them and to their safety while they are away?”

Sahibzada Sibghatullah, MP Pakistan, said it was crucial to count the youth in the impacts of climate change; making up 64% of the country’s population, they bear the brunt of lost education and economic stability.

“A flood closes a school, and a child loses a year of learning that she or he may never recover back. A flood destroys a small shop, and a young man loses the only job he had. A flood cuts a road, and a young mother cannot reach a health center. And when a family loses everything, it is very often the daughter who is taken out of school first and married early. These are climate impacts. We must call them by that name.”

And he noted—it was the youth that rebuilt after the floods too.

“Let me end with this: In Pakistan, when a flood takes a village, it is the young who rebuilt it. They do not ask whose factory caused the warming. They do not ask who failed to cut emissions. They only ask to be counted. Let us count them. Let us fund them. Let us legislate with them, and not merely about them.”

A group photo of parliamentarians and delegates at the recent Asian Forum of Parliamentarians on Population and Development (AFPPD) annual conference held in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Credit: APDA

It was during question time that Karki said she could barely conceal the anger she felt about the floods that left at least 1,300 people and more than 5,500 missing.

“Today I come with a warning from the Himalayas. I’m here to tell you the snow is disappearing. The snow is disappearing, and with it, the safety of my people.”

She listed the impact on roads, bridges, homes, schools, health posts, businesses, and hydropower projects that took decades to build and were destroyed in minutes.

“However, this is not simply a disaster. This is an alarm from the roof of the world.”

She continued, “Nepal contributes only around 0.03 percent of the global greenhouse emissions. Yet it is among one of the highly vulnerable countries to the impacts of climate change.”

“We did not build the smokestacks. We did not burn the coal. Yet our children are compelled to bury their parents and parents to their children under the debris of a crisis authored elsewhere.”

“Climate crisis for Nepal for us is not only an environmental crisis; it’s a developmental crisis. It’s an economic crisis, a food crisis, a public health crisis, and ultimately, it’s a crisis of justice.”

The meeting was organized by the Asian Forum of Parliamentarians on Population and Development (AFPPD) and the Asian Population and Development Association (APDA). It was supported by the Japan Trust Fund (JTF), the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA), AFPPD Malaysia, and the International Planned Parenthood Federation (IPPF).

IPS UN Bureau Report

Protests during the World Conference against Racism, Racial Discrimination, Xenophobia and Related Intolerance, held in Durban, South Africa, from 31 August to 7 September 2001. Credit: NCDHR

By Paul Divakar Namala
LONDON, Sep 8 2026 (IPS)

My name is Paul Divakar Namala. I am the Executive Director of The Inclusivity Project and Convenor of the Global Forum of Communities Discriminated on Work and Descent. My work focuses on communities whose social status, occupations and exclusion are inherited across generations through caste, analogous hierarchies and systems rooted in traditional slavery.

Durban also taught us that affected communities must speak for themselves. They must not be treated merely as victims or sources of testimony, but as human rights defenders and leaders who define the problem and shape the solution

I am a Dalit. Dalits were historically treated as “untouchable” and placed at the bottom of, or outside, the caste hierarchy. This can shape every part of life: access to a common water source, where a child sits at school, where a family may live, what work a person is expected to perform and whether others will eat with or even be seen with them.

Poverty is widespread in South Asia, but its burden falls disproportionately on Dalits because caste restricts access to land, education, dignified employment, public services and political power.

Inherited hierarchies remain deeply entrenched

Across South Asia, constitutional guarantees and democratic institutions coexist with caste discrimination and practices of untouchability.

These persist in villages and cities, and in public institutions, private workplaces and corporations. Dalits may face threats or violence for asserting land rights, entering places of worship, marrying across caste, accessing common resources, seeking education or standing for elected office.

Dalits in South Asia are not alone. Roma communities in Europe and beyond, Burakumin in Japan, Haratine and other communities affected by traditional slavery in the Sahel, Osu communities in Nigeria, Quilombola communities in Brazil and other communities in Latin America experience distinct histories and realities.

They should not be collapsed into a single category. Yet many face structurally connected patterns: inherited stigma and social status, endogamy, segregation in housing and education, exclusion from land and decent work, confinement to dangerous or degrading occupations, trafficking and forced labour, and backlash violence when they resist. We describe these peoples, in all their diversity, as Communities Discriminated on Work and Descent, or CDWD.

Reconnecting with my identity

Where I grew up in India, my family faced repeated attacks as we asserted our rights, including rights over public land. When I was 21, a petrol-bomb attack took the life of my mother.

Only as I grew older did I understand how much of what happened to my family was connected to caste. My father taught me that our purpose should not be limited to seeking justice for ourselves; we had to dismantle the structures that allow such abuses to continue. That teaching guided me away from vengeance and towards challenging the social norms and caste structures that treat some human beings as inferior, exploit their vulnerability and assign them a life of servitude.

Together with my spouse, who came from a different caste, I helped build a community of human rights defenders. For too long, Dalits were portrayed only as victims or survivors. We are also organisers, advocates and defenders of human rights. This work began more than four decades ago, when I was in my twenties.

In 1998, together with leaders from across India, we formed the National Campaign on Dalit Human Rights. We wanted caste-based discrimination and violence to be documented and discussed nationally and internationally. Looking back, I realise how groundbreaking that effort was, especially with so few resources.

Bringing caste to Durban

When we learned that the United Nations was organising a World Conference Against Racism, our immediate response was: “We have to be there.” We were new to these international processes. We contacted people working on caste discrimination and were invited to a preparatory meeting in Bellagio that helped shape the agenda for Durban.

At Bellagio, many participants supported putting caste on the agenda, including Pierre Sané, then Secretary General of Amnesty International. Civil society succeeded in making caste a major issue in the Durban process, but several Asian governments resisted its explicit inclusion in the final Durban Declaration and Programme of Action, arguing that it would target their countries or interfere in internal matters.

Although the final Declaration did not contain the explicit recognition we sought, what the movement achieved was extraordinary. Durban gave unprecedented international visibility to caste discrimination and helped move Dalit rights from the margins towards the centre of international human rights debate.

Dalit activists were present in large numbers, carrying documentation, testimonies, drums and protest across the conference grounds. People approached us and said, sometimes awkwardly but with genuine solidarity, “You are untouchable? Let me hug you.” Those encounters showed both how unfamiliar the issue was internationally and how quickly human connection could challenge the stigma imposed upon us.

Activists protest caste and descent-based discrimination during the World Conference against Racism in Durban, South Africa, held from 31 August to 7 September 2001. Placards call attention to caste, racism and the struggle for Dalit rights. Credit: NCDHR

Solidarity, resistance and the unfinished agenda

Over the years, we have connected with communities and advocates in Somalia, Ethiopia, Kenya, Niger, Mauritania and Nigeria, with Roma movements across Europe and beyond, and with Quilombola and other communities in Latin America.

Their histories are different, but their struggles reveal how inherited status, stigmatised work and exclusion can reinforce one another across generations. Working together makes these structures visible and prevents governments and institutions from excusing them in the name of culture or tradition.

Durban also taught us that affected communities must speak for themselves. They must not be treated merely as victims or sources of testimony, but as human rights defenders and leaders who define the problem and shape the solution. Solidarity does not require us to claim that every oppression is identical. It requires us to respect distinct histories while recognising common structures of dehumanisation and standing together against them.

The fight is far from over. We are working for stronger international recognition, including comprehensive CERD guidance and, ultimately, a Declaration on the Rights of Communities Discriminated on Work and Descent.

Yet the real test is always on the ground. International declarations have meaning only when they change the life of a woman confronting untouchability, a sanitation worker demanding safe and dignified work, a Roma child resisting school segregation, or a Haratine family seeking freedom, land and equality.

Learn more about racial justice with Amnesty International’s online course.

Excerpt:

Panelists and participants discuss Japan’s death penalty at a symposium examining capital punishment through the lens of human dignity, held on September 5, 2026, at St. Ignatius Church in Yotsuya, Tokyo. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri / INPS Japan

By Katsuhiro Asagiri
TOKYO, Japan, Sep 8 2026 (IPS)

A symposium examining Japan’s death penalty through the lens of human dignity was held on September 5 at Joseph Hall of St. Ignatius Church in Yotsuya, Tokyo.

Brochure of the Symposium titled, “Rethinking the Death Penalty: With Human Dignity in View.” Credit: The Association of Religious Leaders and Scholars Considering the Death Penalty

It was supported by eight organizations: the Jesuit Social Center, the Conference on Religion in the Modern World (CORMOS), the Japan Buddhist Federation, the International Institute for the Study of Religions, the Sophia University Institute of Grief Care, the Japanese Committee of the World Conference of Religions for Peace (WCRP), the Soka Gakkai Peace Committee, and the Institute of Engaged Buddhism.

The gathering brought together legal scholars, journalists, a bereaved family member, a former prison officer, younger participants and religious figures, each approaching Japan’s death penalty from a different experience and perspective.

Religious studies scholar Susumu Shimazono stressed that the purpose was not to decide whether capital punishment should be abolished, but to listen and learn.

The questions extended beyond punishment: how to support victims, prevent wrongful convictions and violence, and hold institutions accountable for decisions over life and death.

The international picture is mixed. Amnesty International reported that 145 countries had abolished capital punishment in law or practice by the end of 2025. Yet recorded executions rose to at least 2,707 that year, excluding unverified totals from China, North Korea and Vietnam.

Japan’s Justice Ministry has defended retention by citing public opinion and serious crime. But public support and justification under human rights principles are different questions.

Safeguards Before Irreversible Punishment

Prof. Makoto Ida. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri / INPS Japan

He also distinguished wrongful convictions from sentencing errors: even where guilt is established, overlooked mitigating circumstances may lead to death rather than life imprisonment.

He also expressed his view that hanging constitutes cruel punishment under Japan’s Constitution.

“Immediate abolition of the death penalty is not the only option,” he said.

Stronger safeguards, reviewing execution methods and temporarily suspending executions were possible steps. Ida argued that victims’ demands for punishment could not themselves justify capital punishment, while acknowledging their grief and anger.

Deterrence required equal caution. A 2012 U.S. National Research Council review found that the studies it examined could not establish whether capital punishment increased, reduced or had no effect on homicide rates. That was not proof of no effect.

Ida nevertheless urged that public fears be taken seriously. Reform must address organized crime and reoffending, rather than simply replace one punishment with another.

The Human Cost of Execution

Keiko Horikawa. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri / INPS Japan

She also recalled interviewing a former judicial research official involved in preparing the Supreme Court ruling underlying the Nagayama standard, the factors courts consider when choosing between death and life imprisonment. He disputed treating those factors as a formula for execution.

Horikawa’s book Kyokaishi (The Prison Chaplain) follows a Buddhist priest who accompanied condemned prisoners. She recalled his words:

“No one has ever been made happy by an execution.”

This was his observation, not a verdict on every bereaved family’s experience. It nevertheless raised a crucial distinction: completing a sentence does not necessarily end the suffering surrounding a crime.

Horikawa called for suspending executions and openly examining victims’ support, prison officers’ psychological burdens, costs and hanging itself.

A Bereaved Sister’s Unanswered Question

Nobuko. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri / INPS Japan

“I want to prevent reoffending and stop more people from experiencing this grief,” she said.

She resisted being assigned to either camp. Some bereaved people want execution; others want offenders to live with their crimes; still others cannot bear to think about the case.

“I think each is an expression of the grief that person carries,” she said.

Nobuko acknowledged that offenders retain human rights. “Recognizing the human rights of offenders does not, in itself, deny the human rights of victims.”

But who addresses the rights taken from those killed, and the needs of families left behind? Support should not depend on whether a family favors capital punishment.

The United Nations’ 1985 declaration on justice for crime victims encompasses access to justice, fair treatment, restitution, compensation and assistance. Punishment alone is not the whole response.

Nobuko asked a further question: “What kind of society would prevent people from becoming offenders who face the death penalty?”

Her conversations with prisoners revealed experiences of abuse and isolation. Understanding those histories does not excuse crime. But punishment after violence cannot substitute for examining whether earlier support might have prevented it.

She has begun creating opportunities for parents to share experiences. That is her choice, not an obligation other bereaved families should be expected to shoulder. Prevention also requires institutions, not merely individual goodwill.

“I am neither for nor against the death penalty,” she said, describing her determination to keep thinking about life, guilt and suffering.

Toshio Sakamoto. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri / INPS Japan

Former prison officer Toshio Sakamoto argued that restrictions on outside contact make changes in condemned prisoners difficult for society to see.

He also recalled his long acquaintance with Iwao Hakamada, who spent decades under sentence of death before his acquittal at a retrial in 2024. The case raises questions about interrogation, evidence disclosure and timely remedies.

Trust in justice depends not only on the authority to decide, but on the ability to acknowledge and correct error before irreversible harm occurs.

He also questioned increasingly lengthy life imprisonment. Japan’s life sentences permit parole in law; the issue is how public safety, victims’ concerns and evidence of rehabilitation are assessed in practice.

For Sorane Sakihama, a graduate student from Okinawa, studying in France first challenged her assumption that capital punishment was justice for victims. International exchanges later brought her face to face with people affected by wrongful death sentences.

Invoking the Okinawan expression “Nuchi du takara” — life is the greatest treasure — she connected her opposition to execution with her opposition to war. She emphasized creating spaces where young people can discuss difficult issues without needing settled opinions.

Sorane Sakihama, a graduate student from Okinawa, speaks about how international dialogue and her encounters with people affected by wrongful death sentences shaped her views on capital punishment, during a symposium at St. Ignatius Church in Tokyo on September 5, 2026. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri / INPS Japan

From Dialogue to Accountability

SDGs Goal No 16.

Sustainable Development Goal 16 does not explicitly require abolition. It does call for reducing violence, protecting children, equal access to justice, accountable institutions and inclusive decision-making.

That provides a practical framework: Are victims receiving sustained support? Can doubtful convictions be effectively reviewed? Are prison staff’s burdens recognized? Is prevention reducing harm? Can citizens obtain the information needed to judge the system?

Disagreement over abolition need not prevent scrutiny of these questions.

Can people change? What does atonement mean? How should society support victims and prevent violence? How much power over life and death should the state possess?

A new dialogue on those questions began in a Tokyo church.

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

IPS UN Bureau

Oemwa Johnston, a fourth-generation nuclear survivor from Kiribati Island. Credit: Naureen Hossain/IPS

By Naureen Hossain
UNITED NATIONS, Sep 7 2026 (IPS)

More and more, global disarmament discussions are encompassing the humanitarian and environmental impacts of the testing and use of nuclear weapons, as it becomes clear that the legacy of nuclear weapons leaves its mark on multiple generations.

This was the purpose of the international meeting on ‘Victims Assistance and Environmental Remediation’ for countries affected by nuclear weapons. The meeting, held on September 1 in UN Headquarters, convened member states, academia, and civil society organizations, along with representatives from communities directly affected by nuclear weapons use and testing.

The meeting was convened at the direction of the General Assembly under resolutions 79/60 and 80/56, which called for a meeting to be held by 2026 on the lived experiences of communities affected by nuclear weapons and the measures that member states and the international community at large can take to address their concerns. The meeting was chaired by Kazakhstan and Kiribati, two countries that were once sites for nuclear tests in the 20th century. Since then, they are among the former testing states avidly advocating for nuclear disarmament.

This meeting examined the humanitarian and environmental impacts of nuclear weapons use and testing. Many speakers present remarked on the long-lasting effects of exposure to nuclear radiation. The physical, social, economic, and psychological consequences of nuclear use are felt across multiple generations. Persistent health issues are an all-too-common reality among affected communities. People exposed to radiation are more susceptible to noncommunicable diseases like cancer or leukemia or to living with lifelong health conditions.

“The consequences of nuclear weapons do not end when an explosion is over. As the enduring suffering of the Hibakusha—the survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki—and the legacy of more than 2000 nuclear tests around the world make clear, the effects of nuclear weapons persist for decades and across generations,” said Izumi Nakamitsu, UN Under-Secretary-General and High Representative of the Office of Disarmament Affairs (UN-ODA).

Nakamitsu said that the efforts to provide remediation should be sustainable; responses to the issues should not depend on “individual projects or temporary initiatives,” but rather on sustained cooperation across national and multilateral systems that have the capacity to preserve knowledge and technical expertise over long periods of time. “Communities need confidence that support will not disappear when a particular project or funding cycle comes to an end.”

Environmental remediation also constitutes, as the representative from Guatemala put it, “an indispensable responsibility” for the international community. The damage inflicted on the environment has rendered farmlands untenable, water systems altered, and impacted areas inhabitable due to radiation.

The first UN international meeting on victims’ assistance and environmental remediation for countries affected by nuclear weapons use and testing. Credit: Manuel Elias/UN Photo

Algeria’s representative remarked on the visible impact left by nuclear testing as evident in the Algerian Sahara, where testing was conducted near the towns of Reggane and In-Ekkar. One such result was radioactive lava flowing out from a mountain in the region, which cooled and hardened over time. The state carried out monitoring and environmental assessments of the affected, but as Algeria remarked, this effort cannot be done alone.

The impact also did not occur in a vacuum, as communities in those sites, including pastoralists, were forced to relocate or otherwise live with the outcomes. “Communities near these sites carry the burden that physics imposes: illness, land they cannot cultivate, and the harm of uncertainty,” he said.

States are encouraged to share knowledge and expertise on the methods taken to resolve their issues, such as environmental records for testing sites.

For Pacific Island states, remediation is paramount, for the environment is deeply linked to their cultural heritage. It is made more tragic as they risk losing their connection due to the consequences of nuclear testing.

Oemwa Johnston, a fourth-generation nuclear survivor from Kiribati, spoke on how she and other young people continue to carry this impact. “As a young woman and descendant of nuclear survivors, I belong to a generation that did not create nuclear weapons or conduct the nuclear tests of the past. Yet, we have inherited their legacy,” she said.

There was an unanimous call for affected individuals and communities to be at the center of disarmament talks and assistance efforts. Their lived experiences should shape the policies that are meant to support their needs.

“Affected communities cannot be seen only as recipients of assistance or subjects of research. They are knowledge holders,” said Mohamed Ambrosini, Soka Gakkai International’s (SGI) UN Representative for Disarmament.

Interactive dialogue and intergenerational exchanges between hibakusha, affected communities, and younger generations can create the spaces for people to reflect on the impacts of nuclear weapons. Preserving these testimonies and learning from them becomes more urgent as the hibakusha, the survivors of the atomic bombings in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, are aging, Ambrosini warned.

Ambrosini and other civil society members also emphasized that in centering their experiences and recognizing their dignity, this sets the path for them to receive nuclear justice and repatriation for their suffering. These efforts should also respect their dignity and provide them with meaningful spaces to be part of decision-making processes.

There were calls for States to take the responsibility to support affected communities. This should come in two forms: compensation from states through national and federal support programs and official recognition, even apologies, from nuclear powers for their testing.

In the context of Japan, hibakusha and other affected communities receive relief from the government, but not state compensation. While hibakusha are eligible for certain benefits like free health care, the terms for who qualifies for these benefits may be too narrow. Emilie McGlone from Peace Boat, a Japan-based civil society group, argued that the current systems for victim assistance do not include non-Japanese or overseas hibakusha, or people who lived outside the specific geographic boundaries from the hypocenter of the bombings.

“The starting point for all victim assistance is defining who is recognized. Japan’s experience shows that while official definitions may be narrow, victims themselves as well as civil society in affected areas advocate for broader rights. Civil society and diverse impacted voices must therefore be involved in the design of victim assistance policies,” said McGlone.

The meeting recognized the current international frameworks that limit or prohibit nuclear weapons use and testing, such as the Comprehensive Nuclear-Test-Ban Treaty (CTBT) and the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons (NPT). It also held up the Treaty for the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons (TPNW), which carries provisions for victim assistance and environmental remediation, as outlined in Articles VI and VII of the treaty.

As Bangladesh’s delegate noted, the TPNW recognizes that “addressing the use of nuclear weapons must go hand in hand with preventing their future use.” As of now, 100 countries have either signed or ratified the treaty, which calls for complete nuclear disarmament, though this does not include the current nuclear-armed states.

Note: This article is brought to you by IPS Noram in collaboration with INPS Japan and Soka Gakkai International in consultative status with ECOSOC.

IPS UN Bureau Report

A female fish seller at a Saigon market was contacting her clients via her a smart phone. Digital technology has accelerated and facilitated business operations in South-East Asia. Credit: Unsplash / Robson Hatsukami Morgan

By Ruhimat Soerakoesoemah, Andrey Panteleev and Philip Diamant
BANGKOK, Thailand, Sep 7 2026 (IPS)

Physical borders are shrinking, and digital ones are quietly taking their place. As governments use digital transformation as a powerful driver of economic and sustainable development, the challenge is no longer simply a digital divide between those with technology and those without it. It is a question of digital fragmentation, where infrastructure, standards and regulations make cross-border cooperation more difficult.

This raises an important question of how economies in Asia and the Pacific can pursue digital sovereignty while remaining connected to trade, innovate and develop together. One promising answer lies in closer cooperation between the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) and the Eurasian Economic Union (EAEU). Both regions are trying to build stronger digital capabilities while keeping their economies open to cross-border trade. Despite their different economic structures and development pathways, the two blocs share many of the same digital ambitions and challenges.

Digital transformation has become a powerful driver of economic development, competitiveness and resilience. However, progress remains uneven within regions. While some countries are rapidly building digital infrastructure and services, others still face constraints in skills, financing and institutional capacity. This means digital transformation is no longer solely considered in terms of technology. Governments are increasingly seeing it as a strategic priority which is linked to competitiveness, national security, sovereignty and their citizens’ well-being. For regional blocs such as the EAEU and ASEAN, this makes cooperation and the exchange of experience more and more important.

In the EAEU, this ambition is reflected in the work of the Eurasian Economic Commission. In 2017, the EAEU launched its Digital Agenda, which serves as the overarching framework for digital transformation processes across members States. The EAEU’s regional approach is complemented by national efforts. A good example from Kazakhstan was how a dedicated ministry for artificial intelligence (AI) is established and that Kazakhstan already passed new laws on AI, cybersecurity and digital assets, and started running powerful computing centres. Kazakhstan’s nationwide AI training programme is already reaching thousands of people. This is a good example of what a push towards digital sovereignty can look like.

Such a similar ambition can be seen in the ASEAN region, where the ASEAN Digital Economy Framework Agreement (DEFA) is expected to be launched at the 49th ASEAN Summit this November. DEFA aims to create a more seamless regional digital economy by addressing areas, such as digital trade, cross-border shopping, e-signatures, cybersecurity, electronic payments and AI. The region has been asked for such a framework since SMEs account for 85% of jobs and 44.8% of GDP in South-East Asia, but they generate only around 18% of exports. At the same time, the region’s digital economy is already worth an estimated US$ 0.5 trillion and is expected to double to US$ 1 trillion by 2030. With an effective implementation of DEFA, this number can be further increased to US$ 2 trillion.

With all these developments, the complementary strengths of ASEAN and the EAEU are highlighted. The EAEU’s experience in building digital public platforms, solutions for critical infrastructure and cybersecurity frameworks is complemented with ASEAN’s dynamic markets, vibrant digital entrepreneurship and successful models for commercialising digital services. A stakeholder survey conducted by ESCAP across EAEU and ASEAN countries in 2025 found broad agreement on the nature of digital transformation, priority technologies and key risks. This suggests that, despite their different contexts, the two regions share significant common ground for cooperation.

This is where ESCAP can play an important convening role as the UN’s regional body for Asia and the Pacific. Through the project “Strengthening Regional Cooperation in Digital Transformation for Economic and Sustainable Development”, ESCAP is working with ASEAN and EAEU countries to help identify practical solutions, share experiences and advance opportunities for collaboration between the regions. Policymakers explored how both subregions can cooperate more efficiently across borders.

Interesting examples include the benefits of interoperability. Eleven South-East Asian economies now run their own QR-payment systems, with eight already working across at least one border. This same interoperability is starting to reach across other subregions, with a QR-code issued by a Russian bank already working in Viet Nam. These experiences demonstrate a clear scope to explore how similar approaches could support wider cross-border cooperation between ASEAN and the EAEU.

In hindsight, the first sentence of this blog could have been: Physical borders may be shrinking, but digital borders are still being drawn. Addressing digital fragmentation requires dialogue, shared standards, and practical cooperation that allows countries to benefit from the digital transformation. Initiatives like this aim to strengthen interoperability and knowledge sharing across subregions and promote a digital future of Asia that is connected, inclusive and supports sustainable development for all.

Ruhimat Soerakoesoemah, Head of Subregional Office for South-East Asia, ESCAP; Andrey Panteleev, Head of Economic Policy Strategies Section, Macroeconomic Policy Department, Eurasian Economic Commission; and Philip Diamant, Intern, Subregional Office for South-East Asia, ESCAP

IPS UN Bureau

Homes and roads are covered in mud in Nuwakot District, Nepal, after devastating flash floods swept through central northern Nepal. Credit: UNICEF/Laxmi-Prasad-Ngakhusi

By Oritro Karim
UNITED NATIONS, Sep 1 2026 (IPS)

On the morning of August 26, an unprecedented series of flash floods struck Nepal and the Tibet Autonomous Region of China, causing immense destruction, killing hundreds of civilians and leaving thousands missing. Entire neighborhoods have been buried underwater and beneath mud as the Nepalese government and humanitarian organizations rush to provide emergency assistance.

“My family members were swept away by the flood in front of my eyes,” Kalpana Malla from Nepal’s Nuwakot district told reporters. “They could not escape the flood; there was no chance at all. This flood took everything, but my son and I climbed the rooftop of a house and survived, but couldn’t explain how.”

Although the direct cause of the floods is currently unknown, figures from the U.S. Geological Survey (USGS) indicate that the floods were caused by a significant glacial collapse, after previously reporting they were caused by a magnitude 4.4 earthquake. Marking a magnitude 5.2 seismic event, the subsequent debris flow and downstream collapse of seismic waves crashed over the Nepal-China border, destroying buildings and roads along the Trishuli River.

“Initial analysis of before-and-after satellite images now suggests that part of a glacier collapsed high in the mountains,” said Professor Liz Stephens, Professor in Climate Risks and Resilience at the Department of Meteorology at the University of Reading in the United Kingdom, noting that the stability of high-mountain environments is increasingly threatened by the global impacts of climate change. She adds that the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) has “high confidence” that similar “complex cascading events” could occur in the future if underlying climate factors are not addressed soon.

Entire regions in Nepal have been rendered inaccessible due to heavy flooding and mudslides, which destroyed at least 35 bridges, affected over 40 kilometers of roads, and disrupted telecommunications and electricity services in roughly 10 percent of the total affected areas. The hardest-hit regions are the Rasuwa district near Kathmandu in northern Nepal, the Nuwakot district in central-northern Nepal, and the towns of Timure, Rasuwagadhi, and Syabrubesi. According to figures from the Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), roughly 10,000 households are in dire need of emergency assistance, with many families stripped of basic services, such as shelter, food, water supply, and access to healthcare.

Last week on August 27, Lila Pieters Yahia, the United Nations (UN) Resident Coordinator in Nepal, informed reporters during a press briefing at the UN Headquarters that at least 359 people had been killed, while 73 additional civilians had been hospitalized, though some have since been released. Yahia also stated that approximately 910 civilians remain missing, though various media outlets report the figure exceeds 1,300. Since then, Nepal officials have confirmed 900 deaths and over 4247 missing.

These numbers are projected to fluctuate in the coming days as aid personnel increasingly access isolated areas. Of those unaccounted for, Yahia noted that roughly 517 are foreign nationals spanning over 30 countries—including hundreds from China and India, alongside approximately 90 from the United States.

“Everyone in a mountain valley faces the same hazards, but tourists are more vulnerable because they may not recognize the danger or understand local warnings,” said Dr. Fatima M. Pillosu, hydrometeorologist and flash floods researcher from the Department of Meteorology at the University of Reading. “Visitors from regions where such events are rare may not appreciate how fast a mountain river can rise, nor that these valleys also face avalanches, landslides and floods from melting glaciers, even in dry weather. Knowing in advance what can happen, and what to do if it does, is one of the most useful protections.”

Children in Nepal are among the hardest-hit populations, with the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) estimating that at least 17,000 children have been impacted. UNICEF has recorded the destruction of at least 18 schools and damage to 20. Roughly 10,000 school-age children are projected to require urgent support to continue their education, including new learning materials, access to temporary learning centers, and psychosocial support services for both children and teachers.

“Children across Rasuwa and Dhading saw their lives being literally washed away in front of their eyes in a very short span of time, with homes, classrooms, and medical facilities damaged,” said Alice Akunga, the UNICEF representative to Nepal. “Children who have survived the floods now face heightened risks of disease, malnutrition, violence and exploitation,” she said.

Yahia informed reporters that the UN and its partners are currently on the ground, providing direct support to vulnerable communities while simultaneously conducting assessments to determine the exact scale of needs. Currently, the World Food Programme (WFP) is positioned to provide equipment and emergency rations to communities on the frontlines of the crisis. Additionally, two staff members from the World Health Organization (WHO) are distributing tents, logistics support, and medical kits for about 10,000 people for roughly three months.

Although the UN has identified potential risk for additional flooding in areas of Nepal on August 27, it is working closely with the Nepalese government to scale up its life-saving operations across health, nutrition, water, sanitation, protection, and education.

In the wake of the disaster, both countries and UN entities have begun sending emergency supplies and funding for the relief efforts in Nepal. UN Under-Secretary-General for Humanitarian Affairs and Emergency Relief Coordinator Tom Fletcher announced that USD 2 million would be allocated from the UN Central Emergency Response Fund (CERF).

The U.S. State Department has pledged to send a disaster response advisor along with USD 500,000 in aid. Yahia also confirmed that Switzerland has sent more than USD 600,000 for aid, and other countries such as Japan, Australia and the United Kingdom have pledged to send aid funding and supplies in the days to come. Regional neighbors, such as India, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka, have begun sending emergency supplies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rangelands as Economic Infrastructure

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who Gets the Money?

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

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

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

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

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

Access to international finance presents another obstacle.

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

The Drought Gap

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where Will the Money Come From?

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

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

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

“Healthy rangelands are economic infrastructure,” Mtengeti said.

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

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

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

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

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

For pastoralists, the pledges will ultimately be measured during the next drought, when they need pasture, water and support to keep their herds alive.
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Char residents crossing the Jamuna River by boat (Stock photo, 2016).

By Mohammad Zaman
DHAKA, Bangladesh, Aug 31 2026 (IPS)

Bangladesh’s riverine and coastal chars have always been landscapes of movement, but climate change is making that movement more violent, frequent, and unequal. The shifting islands of the Jamuna, Brahmaputra, Padma, and other rivers now reveal how climate stress multiplies deprivation, weakens citizenship, and forces char dwellers to absorb the costs of a crisis they did little to create.

After years of researching and writing about Bangladesh’s chars, I see them not as marginal landscapes, but as frontline climate geographies. They show how river erosion becomes repeated displacement, flooding brings livelihood collapse, and administrative neglect heightens vulnerability. Char people rebuild, migrate, and diversify under extreme uncertainty, but their resilience should not be romanticized. It is being stretched by intensifying hazards and institutions still designed for fixed land, fixed addresses, and orderly poverty. This is why the issue should be framed not simply as adaptation to hazards, but as a question of rights. The central problem is not that char dwellers fail to cope with a moving river; it is that institutions repeatedly ask them to cope without secure recognition, services, or protection.

Mohammad Zaman

Chars are marginal because state planning treats them as temporary spaces for poor and landless people. Some estimates suggest that chars cover roughly 8% of Bangladesh’s land area and are home to 15 to 20 million people. For char communities, migration is not a rupture in char life; it is a recurring way of organizing and rebuilding, often annually. But climate change is turning mobility from strategy into necessity. For many char dwellers, migration may begin as seasonal labour, become repeated relocation, and finally harden into permanent detachment from land, kinship, and legal security.

In 2024, according to the Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre’s Bangladesh country profile, monsoon floods triggered 1.3 million movements, while its disaster displacement risk reporting records more than 21 million disaster displacements in Bangladesh between 2008 and 2024. Among char people, climate change is felt through household decisions made under pressure: whether to rebuild on the same island, move to another char, keep children in school, or migrate to Dhaka for work. These choices are rational and strategic, but the field of options is narrowing under climate stress, vulnerability, and social exclusion.

Migration from char areas also reflects intelligence and aspiration: young people leave for wages, education, electricity, phones, clinics, and futures beyond subsistence and uncertainty. The tragedy is that climate-stressed households often move without skills, savings, documents, safe housing, or labour protection. The river follows them into the garment line, the rickshaw garage, the brick kiln, the domestic workplace, and the rented slum room.

How should these heightened risks from flooding and displacement be addressed? Adaptation is necessary, but it is not enough. Raised plinths, early warnings, flood-resistant crops and community preparedness may save lives, yet adaptation without land rights, education, healthcare, social protection and safe migration routes becomes a way of managing dispossession. Climate change deepens vulnerability because it strikes people who already lack secure tenure, dependable services and political recognition.

In Bangladesh, climate policy should stop treating char dwellers as humanitarian exceptions and start treating them as political subjects. Public services must be redesigned for moving landscapes through boat schools, mobile clinics, digital civil registration, portable social protection, and weather-responsive transport. Land administration must recognize erosion and accretion, while migration should be planned as adaptation through skills training, safe housing, labour rights, and social insurance. Gender must be central to this agenda. Women and girls often carry these risks most directly, through interrupted schooling, unsafe travel for work or services, increased care burdens during floods, and reduced voice in decisions about land, migration, and relief. Policies that imagine the household as a single male-headed unit misread both vulnerability and agency.

The politics of the char is the politics of who counts in a warming world. Fixed maps assume that citizenship has a stable address and that development follows roads. Char life challenges those assumptions. It shows that climate vulnerability is produced not only by hazards, but by institutions unable or unwilling to recognize lives shaped by unstable land.

Bangladesh can praise char people for endurance, or it can confront the uncomfortable truth: the river will keep moving; that is its nature. But if the rights of char people move more slowly than the river, the failure is political. Their future will not be secured by teaching them to adapt endlessly to disappearance, but by ensuring that no citizen has to prove belonging on land that may not be there tomorrow.

The experience of Bangladesh’s char dwellers shows that climate change is not only an environmental crisis, but also a crisis of rights, recognition, and governance. River erosion, floods, and displacement become devastating because they intersect with insecure land tenure, weak services, gendered risks, and limited political voice. A just response must therefore go beyond short-term adaptation and treat char communities as full citizens whose mobility, livelihoods, and claims to belonging deserve protection in a warming and increasingly unstable world.

Dr. Mohammad Zaman has lived and conducted extensive field research in the Kazipur-Sirajganj chars and has written widely on char land tenure, livelihoods, and social organization. He is the lead editor, with Mustafa Alam as co-editor, of Living on the Edge: Char Dwellers in Bangladesh (Springer, 2021). He can be reached at mqzaman.bc@gmail.com.

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Kazakhstan marks the 35th anniversary of the closure of the Semipalatinsk Nuclear Test Site, recalling the Nevada–Semipalatinsk anti-nuclear movement and highlighting continued cooperation between government and civil society for nuclear disarmament. Credit: INPS Japan

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

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

Semipalatinsk Former Nuclear Weapon Test site. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri

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

A Nuclear Test Site Closed by Public Pressure

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

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

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

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

From Nuclear Victim to Disarmament Advocate

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

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

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

Looking Beyond Warhead Numbers

LEU Bank Storage Facility. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri

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

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

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

Kazakhstan and the Role of Civil Society

Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri, Multimedia Director of INPS Japan

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Nuclear Connection With Japan

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

Kazakhstan-Japan

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

A World Moving in the Opposite Direction

The international environment surrounding the 35th anniversary is bleak.

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

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

Memory Is Not Enough

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

Dauren Abenuly Aben. Credit: KazISS

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

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

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

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

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

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

Does possessing nuclear weapons make nations safer?

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

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

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

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

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

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Views of settlements in the Rasuwa district in north-central Nepal covered in mud following the devastating flash floods that swept through the area on Aug. 26, 2026, causing widespread destruction to homes, roads and other infrastructure. CREDIT: UNICEF/UN0914644/ Skanda Gautam

By IPS Correspondent
KATHMANDU, Aug 27 2026 (IPS)

A massive geophysical disaster along the mountainous Nepal-Tibet border has left at least 160 people dead and hundreds more missing after a glacial collapse triggered devastating flash floods and mudslides on Wednesday.

According to data compiled by regional disaster management authorities, the catastrophe began high in the Himalayas. An enormous avalanche of ice and rock tore into the Lhende River, unleashing a wall of mud and water that surged downstream into the Bhote Koshi and Trishuli rivers.

The impact on the ground has been devastating. Officials in Nepal have confirmed 157 fatalities, while authorities in Tibet (China) have reported three deaths, with warnings that the toll is expected to rise. Hardest hit are Nepal’s Rasuwa and Nuwakot districts, alongside Tibet’s Gyirong County. Local police reports indicate that more than 400 people remain unaccounted for, including dozens of Nepalese emergency responders and over 340 foreign tourists, as reported extensively by international news agencies.

In response to the tragedy, UN Secretary-General António Guterres expressed deep sadness and solidarity with the affected communities, confirming that UN teams are actively mobilising aid on the ground. Simultaneously, UNICEF has highlighted the severe impact of the disaster on children and families, warning of severe long-term trauma, displacement, and immediate risks to youth in the devastated regions.

UNICEF is leveraging its local presence and its global supply hub in Copenhagen to deliver safe drinking water, medical care, and nutrition kits to the disaster zone within 72 hours.

With road access completely severed by the destruction of 19 vehicle bridges and 40 kilometres of highways, search and rescue teams are relying on helicopters to winch survivors to safety. The US, China, India, and the European Union have pledged international relief operations.

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By James Alix Michel
VICTORIA, Seychelles, Aug 26 2026 (IPS)

Across this vast ocean, the latest monitoring by Mercator Ocean International shows marine heatwave conditions ranging from moderate to severe. At the same time, the World Meteorological Organization expects a strong El Niño to intensify through August to October, with a positive Indian Ocean Dipole also likely to develop. These are not distant scientific signals. They are an urgent warning that the ocean system on which millions depend is under mounting stress.

The Indian Ocean in particular has sustained communities for generations. It provides food and livelihoods, carries trade and travel, shapes our cultures and moderates our climate. It is also one connected living system – its currents carry heat, nutrients, fish (as well as pollution, unfortunately) across borders drawn on maps. Its coral reefs, mangroves, seagrass meadows and open waters support people from the eastern coast of Africa to South Asia, and from the islands of the western Indian Ocean to the Maldives and beyond. When ocean temperatures rise abnormally, the consequences are not confined to a scientific bulletin. They are seen in the health of coral reefs, in the movement and abundance of fish, in the safety of coastal communities, and in the future of tourism and fisheries. They are felt in the weakening of the natural protection that reefs, mangroves and coastal habitats provide against erosion, flooding and storms.

Coral reefs are especially vulnerable. They can sometimes recover from an isolated bleaching event if temperatures fall quickly enough. But repeated bleaching and prolonged heat stress allow too little time for recovery. When reefs deteriorate, the consequences extend beyond biodiversity: fish habitats are lost, shorelines become more exposed, tourism suffers and communities lose part of their natural and cultural inheritance. This is why ocean warming is not simply an environmental issue. It is an issue of food security, jobs, development, economic stability and justice.

For decades, humanity has relied on the ocean’s exceptional capacity to cushion the climate crisis. The ocean absorbs more than 90 percent of the excess heat trapped by greenhouse gas emissions. By doing so, it has moderated atmospheric warming and spared humanity even more severe disruption. But there is a limit to what we can ask of the sea. Small island developing states have contributed little to the cumulative emissions destabilising the global climate. Yet we are among the first to face the consequences. We cannot move our reefs. We cannot relocate our coastlines without immense social and economic cost. We cannot separate the wellbeing of our people and economies from the health of the ocean. For island people, climate vulnerability is not an abstract concept. It is a daily reality.

Still, island states must not be viewed only as victims. We are custodians of extensive ocean spaces, centres of practical innovation and partners in the search for sustainable solutions. Seychelles has tried to demonstrate that economic development and marine conservation need not be enemies. Through marine spatial planning, Seychelles has committed 30 percent of its waters to protection, while advancing a blue economy vision based on stewardship rather than depletion. This is not charity towards nature. It is a recognition that there can be no enduring prosperity if fish stocks decline, reefs deteriorate and coastal ecosystems are damaged beyond recovery.

Across the Indian Ocean, other island and coastal states are also restoring habitats, improving fisheries management, investing in renewable energy, strengthening marine conservation and building more resilient communities. Their efforts deserve recognition and support. They show that those most exposed to climate risk are not waiting passively for rescue. They are protecting a shared ocean heritage, often with scarce resources. But local and regional action cannot substitute for the choices that must be made globally.

First, the world must reduce greenhouse gas emissions much more rapidly. Adaptation is indispensable, particularly for small island developing states. We need stronger early-warning systems, more ocean observation, investment in reef and coastal restoration, secure water supplies and infrastructure designed for a changing climate. But adaptation cannot indefinitely protect an ocean that continues to accumulate heat. No sea wall, restoration programme or emergency plan can replace decisive action to reduce emissions.

Second, climate finance must become fairer, faster and easier to access. Island states should not have to devote years of limited institutional capacity to complex procedures simply to secure support for renewable energy, water security, coastal protection, marine research and ecosystem restoration. Those facing the greatest climate risks require genuine partnership – not delayed promises, burdensome processes and inadequate resources.

Third, the countries of the Indian Ocean must deepen regional cooperation. Marine heatwaves, coral bleaching, illegal fishing, biodiversity loss and coastal erosion do not stop at national boundaries. We need better ocean observation, data-sharing and regional early-warning systems. We need stronger scientific cooperation, responsible fisheries management and coordinated protection of the ecosystems connecting our islands and coasts.

The Indian Ocean should not be seen merely as a corridor for trade or a theatre for geopolitical competition. It is a shared living system, whose health is fundamental to the security and prosperity of everyone who depends on it. The current warming should also remind us that the ocean is not an inexhaustible resource. It has regulated our climate, sustained our communities, supported our economies and linked our peoples for generations. Yet we still behave as though its capacity to absorb our impacts has no limits. It does.

The islands of the Indian Ocean are not asking for sympathy. We are calling for shared responsibility. We know that ocean health is inseparable from the security of our people. We know that protecting nature and pursuing development must go hand in hand. And we know that every year of delay makes adaptation more costly, the damage more severe and the choices before us more difficult. As a result, the Indian Ocean is sounding the alarm. Its islands are among the first to hear it. But the warning is not ours alone. It is for every country whose climate, food security, economy and future depend on a living ocean.

James Michel, is Former President of the Republic of Seychelles

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Simita Kumar, Education Officer at the Pacific Community (SPC), leads an engaging activity on the biodiversity of intertidal and coral reef ecosystems with young participants at the Veivueti Kids Ocean Conference. Credit: SPC

By Sera Sefeti
SUVA, Fiji, Aug 26 2026 (IPS)

For generations, Pacific children have grown up with the ocean as part of everyday life. It is where families fish, where stories are passed down, where livelihoods begin and where cultures are rooted.

Yet many young people are inheriting an ocean facing pressures unlike anything their ancestors experienced, from warming seas and coral bleaching to plastic pollution and declining marine ecosystems.

In New Caledonia, the ocean is becoming a classroom.

Students are collecting and analysing macro-, meso- and micro-plastics, measuring coastal erosion alongside environmental specialists and removing invasive species. They are also meeting women scientists and ocean professionals, discovering not only the challenges facing the sea but also the many professions and possibilities connected to it.

The work is being led by Comité Égalité pour tous à l’école, an NGO in New Caledonia, in partnership with the Pacific Community (SPC), bringing local ocean issues into student learning through hands-on activities and real-world experiences.

“Our programme raises awareness among young people across the Pacific about the challenges and professions of the sea in all its dimensions, with particular focus on gender equality and highlighting the role of women in ocean-related careers, science, and innovation,” says Véronique Mollot Lehoullier, President of Comité Égalité pour tous à l’école.

The programme began in New Caledonia in 2021 and has since extended to French Polynesia and Vanuatu, with the ambition of developing a model that can be replicated across Oceania.

At its heart is a simple idea: children learn best when they can experience what they are being taught.

For Mollot Lehoullier, the ocean cannot be understood through theory alone.

“It is by discovering ocean-related professions firsthand, meeting women scientists and professionals, and taking part in field trips that students truly grasp the stakes of protecting and valuing lagoon ecosystems,” she says.

“This hands-on approach turns abstract awareness into lasting civic engagement, giving young people concrete role models to identify with girls and boys alike.”

Students at the Veivueti Kids Ocean Conference taking part in an interactive activity at the SPC booth, identifying marine organisms commonly found in tidal zone ecosystems. Credit: SPC

That approach is helping turn ocean education from something children read about into something they can see, touch and experience.

It is also opening a window to futures they may not have previously imagined.

For a young girl, meeting a woman working in marine science or conservation can make an ocean-related career feel possible. For boys, it reinforces that the ocean and the responsibility to protect it belong to everyone.

And the response from students has been striking.

“They don’t watch the clock, and they’re never in a hurry to finish,” Mollot Lehoullier says.

Many students do not want to return to their regular classrooms. Instead, they stay behind to continue speaking with professionals, asking questions and taking part in activities.

“These aren’t theoretical lessons but activities the students are fully part of, so for them it doesn’t feel like work at all, it feels like interactive discovery.”

That sense of discovery is becoming increasingly important as Pacific communities confront a rapidly changing ocean.

For Maëva Tesan, Information, Communication and Knowledge Officer at SPC’s Pacific Community Centre for Ocean Science (PCCOS), strengthening ocean knowledge and ocean literacy in New Caledonia is an important part of that regional effort.

“While many local organisations are already actively working in this field, we have also expanded our involvement this year through several local initiatives, including the Sea Festival and the Science Festival,” she says.

For SPC, partnering with Comité Égalité pour tous à l’école builds on the organisation’s existing role in promoting inclusive education and brings together a shared commitment to raising young people’s awareness of the ocean.

“By working together, we can combine our expertise to strengthen ocean education and inspire the next generation of ocean stewards in New Caledonia,” Tesan says.

The ambition extends beyond one country.

The programme’s reach into French Polynesia and Vanuatu reflects a broader regional approach: building on local initiatives while sharing knowledge, resources and experiences across the Pacific.

Summit participants take part in a hands-on field activity, identifying marine organisms collected for study. Credit: SPC

From New Caledonia to Fiji

Across Fiji, a quiet movement is helping change how the next generation sees the ocean. Children who once viewed the sea simply as a place to swim, fish or spend time with friends are beginning to understand something much deeper: that the future of the Blue Pacific depends on the choices they make today.

For Hannah Nanovu, Whole School Ocean Coordinator at the International School Suva, watching that transformation unfold is one of the most rewarding parts of her work.

“Every year, the students surprise and inspire me through their passion, creativity, and commitment to learning more about the ocean and taking action,” Nanovu says.

“This year, having students travel from Beqa to participate was particularly inspiring, and seeing the conference grow each year, with more schools joining and schools travelling further to be part of it, reminds me that we are building a community of young ocean advocates across Fiji.”

That growing community came together once again at Veivueti Kids Ocean Conference, where students explored the ocean not just through science, but through culture, storytelling, traditional knowledge and hands-on learning.

Since developing its Whole School Ocean Programme in 2018, the International School Suva has used the conference to create a space where students can present research, exchange ideas and discover that every child—regardless of where they come from—has a role in protecting the ocean.

Behind that movement is a broader regional effort led by the Pacific Community (SPC).

Together, these efforts are part of a growing movement to strengthen ocean literacy across the Blue Pacific.

Leotasi Kautu, School Principal from Tuvalu, presents the 3D inundation model of Funafuti, developed by SPC and the Government of Tuvalu, to map flood risk and guide climate adaptation. Credit: SPC

Science that Begins at Home

For many students, science can sometimes feel distant.

Words such as biodiversity, ocean circulation, marine ecosystems and climate change can remain confined to textbook concepts to memorise, rather than realities that surround them.

But the Pacific offers a different classroom.

For SPC, this connection between knowledge, place and lived experience is central to strengthening ocean literacy across the region.

“Pacific communities have a deep cultural and traditional connection to the ocean, but more can be done to increase knowledge about ocean ecosystems, the challenges they face, and how we can protect them,” says Doreen Tuala, Team Leader for Curriculum and Assessment at SPC.

“The best place to start addressing this need is through education, especially by engaging young people.”

The challenge and the opportunity is that there is no single Pacific classroom.

The region encompasses hundreds of islands, diverse cultures and languages, different education systems and communities whose relationships with the ocean vary from one place to another.

That means ocean education cannot simply be copied from one country to the next.

Instead, regional approaches need to create space for local knowledge, culture and experience.

Students can investigate the health of coral reefs they know, explore the importance of mangroves to their communities, examine fisheries that support their families and learn about coastal changes occurring around them.

They can also learn from elders and communities, recognising that Pacific peoples have long understood the ocean through observation, experience and generations of lived knowledge.

Tuala says connecting learning to students’ everyday lives gives them an opportunity to investigate issues that are not abstract, but immediate.

These include coral reef health, sustainable fisheries, coastal erosion, marine pollution and the impacts of climate change.

“When students can connect what they are learning to their everyday lives, local environments and cultural knowledge, they are better able to understand these challenges and explore solutions,” she says.

From Learners to Ocean Guardians

Recognising that ocean stewardship begins long before adulthood, SPC is strengthening its regional commitment to ocean literacy through partnerships, education initiatives and practical learning.

Its work includes strengthening science education through a partnership with National Geographic Pristine Seas, expanding locally relevant teaching materials through the EQAP Ocean Literacy Resources Repository, and supporting practical learning experiences such as Fiji’s Veivueti Kids Ocean Conference.

Together, these initiatives are helping bring ocean literacy into Pacific education in ways that reflect the realities of Pacific children.

“Through this partnership, we are bringing together scientific expertise, educational resources and regional networks to support countries in integrating ocean literacy into education systems,” Tuala says.

The partnership combines SPC’s curriculum expertise with National Geographic Pristine Seas’ experience in marine science, exploration and conservation.

But ambition goes beyond lesson plans.

It is about helping close a long-standing gap in structured ocean education that reflects Pacific realities allowing children to learn about marine environments through ecosystems, examples, cultures and experiences they recognize as their own.

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Excerpt:

By Kizito Makoye
DAR ES SALAAM, Tanzania, Aug 24 2026 (IPS)

For pastoralists in Arvaikheer — a village in Mongolia’s dry central plains — rain can determine whether there is enough grass for cattle to roam, whether waterholes are replenished and whether families make it through another dry season. But as climate change makes rainfall increasingly unpredictable, even a wet season may no longer provide water and pasture needed to sustain people and livestock.

The challenges being experienced across Mongolia’s drylands are at the centre of discussions at the 17th session of the Conference of the Parties to the United Nations Convention to Combat Desertification (UNCCD COP17) in Ulaanbaatar, where governments are devising measures to tackle menacing drought, desertification and land degradation.

It is against this backdrop that the Global Environment Facility (GEF) has announced plans for a new $140 million initiative aimed at helping countries prepare for drought, strengthen resilience in drylands and reduce the growing risks to ecosystems, food security, water availability, livelihoods and health.

The Drylands and Drought Management Integrated Program will be implemented during the GEF-9 investment cycle from 2026 to 2030. It responds to requests from parties to the UNCCD for the GEF to give greater priority to financing programs related to drought resilience.

The program will focus on helping countries and communities better prepare for, monitor, assess, mitigate and respond to the cascading impacts of drought.

“Investing in healthy land and healthy people means investing in food security, climate resilience, biodiversity, water, jobs, and peace,” said the GEF Interim CEO and Chairperson, Claude Gascon, in a statement. “Through this new integrated program, we will support countries in moving from crisis response toward proactive drought resilience.”

The announcement comes as negotiators at COP17 are discussing an array of measures to tackle drought and land degradation, including financing, private-sector engagement, capacity-building and support for rangelands and pastoralists.

Participants in traditional dress take part in a cultural presentation during the 17th session of the UN Convention to Combat Desertification (UNCCD COP17) in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Credit: Anastasia Rodopoulou/ENB-IISD

Rangelands Under Pressure

Rangelands have emerged as a major focus of the Ulaanbaatar talks.

Delegates have been discussing policies and investments for their sustainable management while recognising the importance of rangelands and pastoralist communities in addressing food insecurity, desertification, land degradation, drought, biodiversity loss and climate change.

For pastoralists, the effects of changing rainfall patterns are already devastating.

After rain, parched rangelands can quickly turn green, water sources refill and livestock gain access to fresh pasture. But the COP17 discussions have highlighted how climate change is altering these life-sustaining rains, making them more erratic and intense and reducing their effectiveness through increased runoff.

Land degradation can increase risks to human health, contribute to forced migration and intensify conflicts over scarce resources. It is also closely linked to climate change, biodiversity loss, poverty and food insecurity.

The GEF’s new program, therefore, comes at a time when drought is increasingly treated as a development and livelihood challenge rather than solely as an environmental emergency.

Aftermath of a rain storm at the 17th session of the UN Convention to Combat Desertification (UNCCD COP17) in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Credit: Anastasia Rodopoulou/ENB-IISD

Financing Remains a Challenge

But international commitments to increase investment in drylands will face a litmus test to ensure that money reaches communities managing these landscapes.

During an open dialogue at COP17, civil society participants highlighted barriers to accessing funds as one of the challenges facing pastoralist communities, alongside pressures such as mining.

Participants called for better connections between financing and market mechanisms and the diverse local economies of pastoralists. They also urged governments and institutions to integrate targets for land degradation neutrality with pastoralist-designed and community-led initiatives.

That emphasis on local participation is significant for the GEF, which says that under GEF-9, 20 percent of resources across its family of funds are expected to directly benefit Indigenous Peoples and local communities.

Delegates at COP17 have also welcomed the Rangelands Flagship Initiative, a multi-partner global initiative led by Mongolia and the UNCCD. The initiative is built around three areas: knowledge, investment and institutions.

The GEF is supporting its development and coordination through the UNCCD COP17 Legacy Project, a $3.3 million GEF investment implemented by the International Union for Conservation of Nature. The project is leveraging an additional $8 million in co-financing from Mongolia and IUCN, according to the GEF.

The co-chair consults with the secretary during the Ulaanbaatar International Conference on Combating Desertification as delegates discuss strategies to strengthen global efforts to address land degradation, drought and desertification. Credit: Anastasia Dodopoulou/ENB-IISD

A Wider Investment Push

The new drought program is part of a broader expansion of environmental financing under GEF-9.

The investment cycle begins with an initial programming level of $3.9 billion and is designed to expand investments in nature-positive development, drought resilience and sustainable land management.

Four GEF-9 integrated programs are strongly aligned with UNCCD objectives and are expected to receive more than $800 million in GEF grant funding. They cover food systems, critical forest biomes, blue and green islands and drylands and drought management.

Drought resilience is also being given a more prominent place in the way GEF resources are allocated and measured.

The GEF-9 cycle includes a dedicated objective for implementing national drought plans, a drought vulnerability index in the formula used to calculate resource allocation to countries and new indicators to track improvements in drought resilience.

The approach reflects a growing recognition that drought can insidiously weaken ecosystems, livelihoods and food systems long before it becomes a full-blown crisis, leaving communities more exposed to the next shock.

From Crisis Response to Prevention

The GEF also plans to work with the Riyadh Global Drought Resilience Partnership, the Drought Resilience Investment Facility and other initiatives supporting resilience across drylands and rangelands.

During GEF-8, covering 2022 to 2026, the facility approved 50 projects across its family of funds supporting sustainable rangeland management and restoration and pastoralist livelihoods, with a total investment of more than $300 million.

The projects are at different stages of development and, according to the GEF, can complement the Rangelands Flagship Initiative and help take successful approaches to rangeland management and restoration to scale.

The new initiative also places a stronger emphasis on mobilising private capital.

Ten percent of total GEF-9 funding is allocated to a blended finance window, while the overall target is to use 25 percent of GEF resources to help mobilise private sector investment.

For countries vulnerable to drought, the challenge will be converting those financial commitments into practical investments that strengthen water security, restore degraded land and protect the livelihoods of communities dependent on drylands.

At COP17, where discussions on drought, rangelands, financing and pastoralist livelihoods are unfolding simultaneously, the GEF initiative offers a potentially significant new source of funding.

But the experience of pastoralist communities points to a broader question: whether global commitments and financing mechanisms can reach the people managing the land on the ground — and whether investments can arrive early enough to prevent drought from becoming a crisis.

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A street in Faizabad, the capital of Afghanistan’s northeastern Badakhshan province. Lailuma’s home province of Badakhshan has been plagued by clashes between various armed groups. Credit: Learning Together.

By External Source
FAYZABAD, Afghanistan, Aug 21 2026 (IPS)

Afghanistan has seen a number of unexplained murders in recent months.

One of the latest victims is Lailuma, the wife of well-known local singer Salam Maftoon and a community activist.

The murder took place in Ishkashim district, in the northeastern province of Badakhshan, Afghanistan, in early May. Lailuma was arriving at her restaurant when unidentified assailants shot her in a market area near the provincial government buildings.

Locals say there were several witnesses to the incident and that the attackers fled the scene immediately after the shooting. People rushed to help Lailuma, who was seriously injured, but she died before reaching the hospital. She was 35 years old.

The attackers have not yet been identified, and the motive for the murder is not officially known.

Lailuma’s senseless murder left many women in a state of terror and deep grief, locals say. Women who previously worked in tailoring workshops or at food stalls selling traditional bolani bread have now stopped working, fearing Lailuma’s fate

Lailuma is not the only victim. In May, the online media outlet Rawa News reported on several recent murders across the country. Among the victims was well-known tribal leader Hajiullah Nazar, who was shot.

According to the human rights organization Rawadar, at least, 611 people were killed or injured in targeted attacks, summary executions or other similar incidents in Afghanistan last year. This is more than 40 percent more than the previous year.

The majority of the victims were men. Among them were former government employees, people allegedly linked to the opposition, protesters, tribal leaders and other prominent figures in the community.

Targeted killings are particularly worrying in remote provinces, where the authorities’ capacity to provide security is limited, Rawa News reports. For example, Lailuma’s home province of Badakhshan has been plagued by clashes between various armed groups.

Lailuma opened a women-only restaurant and tailoring workshop in the city after the Taliban closed schools and universities to girls.

Her goal was to provide girls and women, as well as herself, with employment opportunities amid the difficult conditions in Afghanistan. At the same time, she sought to protect them from forced marriages.

Seven women worked in the restaurant and 11 girls in the tailoring workshop. The girls also received training for their work.

Lailuma also supported her family with her work, as restrictions on performing music had taken away her musician husband’s income. He has not been able to perform in concerts or festivals due to the restrictions imposed by the Taliban regime.

“I remember well how my wife worked in her restaurant together with other women and how active the girls in the tailoring workshop were. She was very enthusiastic about her work and emphasized to her colleagues that you should never lose hope,” Maftoon says.

He doesn’t understand what his wife’s “crime” was that she had to die for it.

Fatima (name changed), a 45-year-old close relative of Lailuma, says that it was the first restaurant in her village. Most residents in the area had never seen a restaurant for women only before.

“Women could go to a restaurant and eat together. It made us happy.”

Fatima can’t understand why Lailuma had to be killed.

Lailuma had already received several anonymous death threats, but she ignored them. She would often say that one day she would be able to help the women of her own village overcome their difficulties. Instead, she herself became a victim.

Lailuma’s senseless murder left many women in a state of terror and deep grief, locals say. Women who previously worked in tailoring workshops or at food stalls selling traditional bolani bread have now stopped working, fearing Lailuma’s fate.

Many of them do not even dare to attend funerals or wedding ceremonies. Recently, fewer and fewer women have been seen in the village center or at the local market.

“I don’t think any of the girls in this village dare to go to work or be active in any way. They don’t even dare to leave their homes,” says one villager.

Rahima (name changed), who also worked at Lailuma’s restaurant, says that after that day she has not dared to work again.

“That day they killed Lailuma. On another day it could be someone else from our restaurant.”

Nadia (name changed), a women’s rights activist, says that Afghan women are currently not safe even in the few jobs they still have. Most of the work available to them is related to small-scale private entrepreneurship, such as tailoring, handicrafts or, alternatively, working in a restaurant.

“Mysterious murders like this make women give up hope of getting a job or maintaining social relationships. Even life itself can seem meaningless.”

She hopes that the international community and human rights organizations will be more active in highlighting the violence and oppression experienced by Afghan women, which is present everywhere, both inside and outside the home.

Excerpt:

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

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Aug 21 2026 (IPS)

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

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

Birth of a movement

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

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

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

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

Protest prevails

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

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

Looking ahead

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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SBI7 Secretariat in a huddle. Credit: IISD/ENB | Danny

By Stella Paul
NAIROBI, Aug 18 2026 (IPS)

Despite record participation in global biodiversity reporting and planning processes, countries remain off track to meet the world’s 2030 biodiversity goals, according to discussions that concluded this month at two key meetings under the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD).

Delegates left Nairobi with a package of recommendations on conservation, finance, business accountability and implementation that will now move to COP17 in Yerevan, Armenia, where governments will assess collective progress under the Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework (KMGBF).

The warning emerged from two back-to-back meetings under the Convention on Biological Diversity: the 28th meeting of the Subsidiary Body on Scientific, Technical and Technological Advice (SBSTTA-28), held from 27 July to 1 August 2026, and the seventh meeting of the Subsidiary Body on Implementation (SBI-7), held from 4 to 12 August 2026. Together, the meetings were the last major negotiating session before COP17, which kicked off yesterday (August 18, 2026), where governments will conduct the first formal review of collective progress towards the KMGBF and consider measures to speed up implementation in the second half of the decade.

A Global Review Reveals the Gap Between Commitment and Delivery

The first global review of the KMGBF dominated discussions across both meetings. The review came at the halfway point between the adoption of the framework in 2022 and its 2030 deadline, drawing on an unprecedented volume of national submissions. By February 2026, 172 parties had submitted national biodiversity targets aligned with the framework, while 130 parties had filed national reports on implementation.

The assessment also examined 85 National Biodiversity Strategies and Action Plans (NBSAPs), more than 180 commitments from non-state actors, submissions from multilateral organisations, and dozens of case studies from Indigenous Peoples and local communities.

Taken together, the submissions painted a mixed picture. Governments have integrated the framework into national planning processes at an unprecedented rate, but progress remains uneven. The review found encouraging movement on several conservation-related targets, while action on biodiversity finance, subsidy reform, business accountability and inclusive governance lagged behind. It also exposed significant weaknesses in monitoring and reporting, with countries citing data gaps, financial constraints, limited technical capacity and institutional challenges as barriers to tracking progress.

The overarching conclusion was clear: despite growing engagement, the world is not on track to achieve the framework’s 2030 targets.

“It is true that progress is being made across all targets. However, implementation is not yet happening at the pace and scale needed to achieve the KMGBF. Fewer than half of aligned national targets assessed by Parties are currently on track, with some of the largest gaps in mobilising biodiversity finance, reforming harmful subsidies, addressing business impacts and dependencies, and shifting toward sustainable consumption,” said Astrid Schomaker, executive secretary of the CBD.

Jennifer Tauli Corpuz, of IIFB, spoke at the SBI on August 9. She called for Indigenous Peoples and local communities’ greater engagement in decision-making processes. CREDIT: IISD

Wildlife, Technology and Emerging Governance Challenges

The implementation gap was reflected across several of the issues discussed in Nairobi, from wildlife management and emerging technologies to business accountability and biodiversity finance.

Discussions on sustainable wildlife management and synthetic biology highlighted the growing complexity of biodiversity governance. Delegates debating sustainable wildlife management moved well beyond questions of species conservation, examining how biodiversity policies intersect with livelihoods, equitable benefit-sharing, community participation and the rights of Indigenous Peoples and local communities.

The discussions reflected a growing recognition that conservation measures are more likely to succeed when they incorporate social and economic considerations alongside ecological objectives. Representing the International Indigenous Forum on Biodiversity (IIFB), Jennifer Tauli Corpuz argued that effective wildlife management depends on the “transparent, structured and meaningful participation” of Indigenous Peoples and local communities in decision-making processes.

Synthetic biology presented a different set of challenges. While delegates broadly agreed on the need to strengthen capacity-building, scientific cooperation and knowledge-sharing, discussions also exposed ongoing questions about how international biodiversity institutions should respond to rapidly evolving technologies. As scientific innovation advances, governments are increasingly being asked to balance potential benefits with concerns related to governance, risk management and oversight.

Taken together, the two agenda items illustrated how biodiversity negotiations are evolving. Future CBD discussions are likely to focus increasingly on balancing ecological objectives with technological innovation, social equity and effective governance.

Business Accountability Under Greater Scrutiny

A major focus of SBSTTA-28 was the Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services (IPBES) Business and Biodiversity Assessment, which examined how companies and financial institutions influence biodiversity outcomes.

Presenting the findings, IPBES Chair David Obura said the assessment identifies more than 100 practical actions that companies can take across their operations, supply chains and financial portfolios to reduce biodiversity impacts and support nature recovery.

“Businesses can no longer be seen only as drivers of biodiversity loss. They are also an essential part of the solution,” Obura said, adding that companies already have tools available to begin addressing biodiversity risks and dependencies.

The assessment linked many recommendations to KMGBF Target 15 on business disclosure and accountability. Negotiations highlighted continuing debates over disclosure requirements, supply-chain transparency and biodiversity impact reporting, underscoring growing expectations that corporate biodiversity impacts be measured rather than merely acknowledged.

The opening plenary of the 28th meeting of the Subsidiary Body on Scientific, Technical and Technological Advice (SBSTTA-28) of the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD) at the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP) Headquarters in Nairobi, Kenya. CREDIT: Ahmed Nayim Yussuf/UNEP

Finance Emerges as a Central Political Challenge

At SBI-7, discussions shifted from technical issues to implementation challenges, including resource mobilisation, capacity-building, biodiversity mainstreaming and the Convention’s financial mechanisms.

The prominence of finance was closely linked to the findings of the global review, which identified finance among the weakest-performing areas of the framework. Although biodiversity finance has increased since the KMGBF was adopted, the review concluded that progress remains insufficient and that the 2025 milestone of mobilising USD 20 billion annually in international biodiversity finance was likely not achieved. Countries also reported continued challenges in securing financial resources, technology transfer and technical support needed for implementation.

These findings shaped much of the discussion at SBI-7, where delegates debated resource mobilisation, the Convention’s financial mechanism and the role of the Cali Fund, which is intended to channel private-sector contributions toward biodiversity conservation. While broad agreement exists on the need for greater biodiversity finance, significant differences remain over how resources should be raised, governed and distributed.

Echoing concerns raised by many developing countries, a delegate from the African Union stressed that “adequate, predictable and accessible financial resources are essential conditions for developing countries to translate global commitments into concrete national actions”.

“Ambition alone is not enough to accelerate implementation: it requires commensurate means,” he added.

Youth and Gender Advocates Push for More Inclusive Governance

Youth representatives from the Global Youth Biodiversity Network (GYBN) welcomed progress on sustainable wildlife management but argued that current recommendations do not go far enough on business accountability, calling for stronger provisions on transparency, traceability and biodiversity impact assessments throughout wildlife-related supply chains. More broadly, youth advocates also called for greater inclusion in biodiversity decision-making. “A global review of progress is incomplete if it does not reflect the information, concerns, needs and priorities of youth and other rights-holders,” said a GYBN delegate.

Preparations ahead of COP17 have also drawn greater attention to gender-responsive biodiversity governance. In Armenia, the CBD Women’s Caucus, together with the Armenian COP17 Presidency, the CBD Secretariat and the Raoul Wallenberg Institute, organised a training programme to strengthen women’s participation in biodiversity policy processes.

Mrinalini Rai of Women4Biodiversity argued that women, youth, Indigenous Peoples and local communities are not simply stakeholders but rather “key actors in the implementation, monitoring and review of the framework.” She said their knowledge systems, leadership and contributions are fundamental to ensuring biodiversity policies are “equitable, inclusive and effective”.

These discussions reflect a growing recognition that implementation challenges are not only technical or financial but also institutional and that broader participation is essential to strengthening biodiversity governance and implementation.

Looking Ahead to COP17

Despite the challenges identified in the review, Schomaker expressed optimism about the road to COP17.

“I think that we can all leave Nairobi with a sense of satisfaction at what we have accomplished here, but the task awaiting us in Yerevan in nine weeks will take all the stamina and determination that Parties can summon.”

When governments gather in Yerevan in October for COP17, they will face a clear challenge: turning commitments into the financial, institutional and policy action needed to keep the framework’s 2030 goals within reach.

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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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Downpours flood the streets of Dhaka. Credit: Farid Ahmed/ IPS

By Mohammad Zaman
DHAKA, Bangladesh, Aug 13 2026 (IPS)

Dhaka’s recent and recurrent flooding is often treated as a natural disaster, but rain is only the trigger. The deeper causes are political, planning and ecological failure: wetland loss, canal encroachment, unplanned growth, weak enforcement, fragmented institutions and short-term engineering fixes. Dhaka is not drowning because it rains; it is drowning because it has been built as if water had nowhere to go.

Historically, Dhaka was part of a watery landscape of rivers, canals, ponds, floodplains and low-lying retention areas. These were not vacant lands; they were essential drainage infrastructure that stored rainwater, slowed runoff and carried excess water toward surrounding rivers. As the city expanded, this blue-green network was filled, narrowed or severed, leaving drains unable to cope even with moderate rainfall.

Mohammad Zaman

Drains and canals have also deteriorated. Many are clogged with waste, narrowed by illegal structures or disconnected from smaller drains. Box culverts, often promoted as modernisation, have in some places buried waterways rather than restoring them as living drainage corridors. Drainage fails not only because pipes are small, but because the wider hydrological system has been cut apart.

Climate change adds pressure through shorter, heavier and less predictable rainfall, but it should not excuse bad planning. World Bank work on urban flooding in Greater Dhaka has warned that the city already has an adaptation deficit. The real problem is that Dhaka has reduced its own capacity to absorb shocks, treating flooding as a pipe-sizing seasonal issue rather than a citywide water-management challenge.

The consequences appear first in transport paralysis. When major roads in Mirpur, Dhanmondi, Green Road, Motijheel, Shantinagar, Old Dhaka and other areas go underwater, commuters lose hours, public transport stalls and businesses suffer. The cost includes damaged vehicles and inventories, delayed logistics, lost productivity and the daily stress of moving through a city that cannot function after rain.

Flooding also deepens inequality. Low-income residents in informal and low-lying settlements face contaminated water entering their homes, loss of daily income, damaged belongings and higher disease risk. Floodwater mixed with sewage, waste and pollutants increases infections and waterborne illness. The poor pay twice: through greater exposure and weaker access to healthcare, savings and political voice.

The scale of impact shows this is not a seasonal inconvenience. A 2023 GIS and remote-sensing study found that almost 35 percent of Dhaka falls within high or very high waterlogging-vulnerability zones, with slum households disproportionately concentrated there. Recent rainfall confirms the risk: Dhaka recorded 130 millimetres of rain in six hours on 12 July 2024, while another episode brought 196 millimetres in 24 hours in 2025, submerging major roads despite large drainage investments.

Infrastructure spending has not produced resilience. The two Dhaka city corporations reportedly invested more than Tk 262 crore over four years up to 2024 to build 334.19 kilometres of drains, box culverts and related infrastructure, yet large areas still flooded. Planning data show that Dhaka lost 3,440 acres out of 9,556 acres of designated flood-flow zones, retention areas and waterbodies since the 1995 Detailed Area Plan, while central-city waterbodies reportedly fell from 20.57 percent in 1995 to 2.9 percent in 2023. The city is paying to drain water while allowing the systems that make drainage possible to disappear.

This failure is reinforced by institutional fragmentation. Responsibility is divided among Dhaka WASA, the two city corporations, RAJUK, the Bangladesh Water Development Board and others. Each controls part of the problem, but no single body manages the full catchment: drains, canals, retention areas, pumps, river outfalls and land-use control. The result is scattered action followed by renewed flooding.

Weak enforcement makes plans meaningless. Master plans and Detailed Area Plans have identified flood-flow zones, retention ponds and wetlands, yet these areas continue to disappear under housing, roads and commercial development. Encroachment survives because it is profitable, politically protected or administratively tolerated.

Accountability is also weak. Spending is reported, but outcomes are rarely evaluated. Dhaka does not need another narrow drainage project; it needs the political courage to enforce existing plans, recover waterways and protect the remaining wetlands.

The city must treat canals, wetlands, ponds and flood-flow zones as critical public infrastructure. Remaining wetlands should be protected, encroached canals demarcated and recovered, and major waterways restored as open drainage corridors connected to surrounding rivers. Dhaka also needs an integrated flood-management platform with clear authority over land-use approvals, canal recovery, drainage investment, pump operation, solid-waste control and emergency response.

Future planning must also centre vulnerable communities. Informal settlements, low-income neighbourhoods, street vendors, schoolchildren and daily-wage workers face the harshest effects but are rarely treated as planning partners. Community reporting of blocked drains, health warnings, emergency transport plans and compensation for repeated losses should be part of resilience policy. A flood-safe Dhaka requires ecological restoration, institutional discipline and social justice.

Dhaka’s flooding is a warning about planning against nature. The city has tried to engineer its way out of a crisis created by land conversion, institutional weakness and ecological neglect. Until it restores and governs its blue-green network as essential infrastructure, each monsoon will bring the same result: a megacity halted by rain it once knew how to live with. The choice is no longer between development and drainage; it is between protecting people and flooding them in the name of progress.

Dr. Mohammad Zaman is an international development consultant whose work across Asia and Africa focuses on social safeguards, displacement, resettlement and inclusive development. He lives in Vancouver, Canada, and can be reached at: mqzaman.bc@gmail.com

IPS UN Bureau

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Syrian women speak out about obstetric violence while giving birth. Credit: Sonia Al-Ali/IPS

By Sonia Al Ali
ALEPPO, Syria, Aug 11 2026 (IPS)

The abuse 30-year-old Nour Al-Badawi experienced in an Aleppo public hospital while giving birth resulted in her having two major follow-up operations and left her with depression and anxiety.

She is one Syrian woman who spoke out to IPS about “obstetric violence” – a term that refers to physical, verbal, or psychological abuse by healthcare providers; medical interventions performed without the pregnant woman’s informed consent; and violations of her dignity and privacy within healthcare facilities.

The experience of these women extends far beyond medical challenges and harsh humanitarian conditions.

Obstetric violence encompasses all forms of abuse, neglect, violations of dignity and privacy, or the performance of medical interventions without informed consent.

Al-Badawi describes her most recent childbirth experience as one of the harshest chapters of her life.

“Poverty forces us to give birth in public hospitals and endure the mistreatment that takes place there. Because of the violence and abuse I experienced during childbirth, I no longer consider becoming pregnant again.”

Nour explains that her suffering was not limited to verbal insults and violations of her dignity but extended to violent practices during the delivery process, including forceful pressure on her abdomen, as well as an improperly performed procedure to widen the birth canal. This resulted in serious uterine complications that required two surgical operations to treat an obstetric urinary fistula.

The experience completely transformed Nour’s life. She developed severe depression and a constant desire for isolation. Her family also faced significant financial burdens to cover the costs of her treatment, forcing her to sell some of her belongings and resort to borrowing money.

Despite what happened to Nour, her husband chose not to make any comment and said he would not file a complaint or take legal action against the healthcare centre where the delivery took place, fearing further disputes and additional difficulties. Instead, he assumed responsibility for caring for his wife and covering her treatment expenses.

Farida Al-Hassoun (26), from Hama, also remembers the day she gave birth to her first child at a public hospital as one of the most difficult days of her life — not only because of the pain of labour, but also because of the way she was treated by nurses and midwives inside the hospital.

“I was screaming from the pain, but a nurse told me to be quiet and said I was exaggerating. No one explained what they were going to do. I was shocked when they stitched the wound resulting from childbirth without anaesthesia. At that moment, I felt indescribable pain,” Al-Hassoun said.

She points out that her fear increased as her questions were ignored and she received no psychological support during childbirth. After leaving the hospital, she was unable to forget the experience and continued to suffer from anxiety for months whenever she remembered the delivery room.

Al-Hassoun asks: “Can a Syrian woman give birth with dignity, or will violence inside delivery rooms remain a silent experience that no one steps forward to stop?”

Dr Ola Al-Omar (36), an obstetrician and gynaecologist, discusses the risks of obstetric violence, saying:

“In Syria, years of war and economic collapse have placed increasing pressure on the healthcare system, which has affected the quality of maternal care services. Shortages of medical staff, overcrowded hospitals, and declining resources have all contributed to creating an environment in which women are exposed to mistreatment during pregnancy and childbirth.”

She said that obstetric violence took many forms, including performing medical interventions without explaining them to the patient or obtaining her informed consent; using humiliating expressions; blaming women for crying out during labour; failing to respect privacy inside delivery rooms; depriving women of sufficient information about their health condition; ignoring their pain; or delaying the provision of necessary care.

She emphasises that every woman has the right to receive respectful maternity care, including the preservation of her dignity and privacy, obtaining informed consent before any medical intervention, receiving the necessary information to make decisions regarding her health, and being protected from humiliation, discrimination, or neglect.

Social and Psychological Counsellor Sereen Al-Sheikh (33), from the city of Idlib in northern Syria, speaks about the suffering of pregnant women, saying: “I have met many women who were subjected to artificial induction of labour to accelerate the delivery process, even though the mother’s cervix was already dilated, as well as repeated vaginal examinations that caused severe distress and trauma. In addition, patients are not allowed to have companions present during childbirth, and their movement is sometimes restricted.”

Al-Sheikh explains that these practices leave long-term psychological effects, including fear of becoming pregnant again, postpartum psychological disorders, and a loss of trust in healthcare institutions.

“Most women choose silence out of fear of social stigma, as well as because it is difficult to prove that violations or abuses have occurred. These incidents often take place without evidence or witnesses and, therefore, pass without accountability,” she says.

A childbirth experience may end with the arrival of a newborn into the world, but for some Syrian women, what follows is a long journey of fear and trauma.

At a moment that is supposed to be among the safest and most reassuring experiences in a woman’s life, some Syrian women find themselves facing an entirely different reality: cries that no one listens to, medical procedures carried out without explanation or consent, and harsh words that remain engraved in their memories for years after childbirth.

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UN Indonesia Solar power is widely used on the islands of Java, Madura, and Bali. Credit: UN News

By Delia Paul
MELBOURNE, Australia, Aug 10 2026 (IPS)

In much of the Asia-Pacific region, energy is a success story. Electricity access has greatly increased and the use of clean cooking fuels is now widespread. The region has kept pace with the rest of the world in adopting renewable energy. Many countries have made energy efficiency gains; the Republic of Korea is one of those in the lead worldwide. Progress has continued even in the face of recent energy crises sparked by the war in Ukraine and conflict over the Strait of Hormuz.

Yet, this year’s High Level Political Forum on sustainable development (IHLPF) in New York— a yearly event to review progress on the global Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) —sounded some warning bells.

With SDG 7 on energy, the international community agreed to ensure universal access to affordable, reliable and modern energy services. Clean cooking fuels are part of that transition. SDG 7 also set targets to increase substantially the share of renewable energy in the global energy mix, and double the rate of improvement in energy efficiency. On all these measures, Asia-Pacific countries have done well. This year’s HLPF, however, raised some important questions.

Firstly, success is a matter of definition. In 2010, Central and South Asian countries accounted for 36 per cent of the world’s electricity-access deficit; by 2024, that proportion had shrunk to just 3 per cent, a turnaround that the UN’s latest report of progress on SDG 7 attributes to rapid grid expansion, regional power market integration, and rising incomes. That achievement is nuanced, however, when we consider the livelihood dimension, where many countries still face challenges especially in rural areas.

Vijay Modi, a professor at Columbia University and director of its Laboratory for Sustainable Energy Solutions, addressing HLPF delegates on the first day of the talks, noted that access is not the same as affordability. Affordable energy is needed, for example, to run the water pumps for farm irrigation, and to light shops that may want to extend their opening hours — aspects of electricity access that are missed, if focusing only on household-level energy services.

Secondly, generalised statistics can mask the true scale of the challenge that still remains. The share of people using clean fuels and technologies for cooking has nearly doubled across most of Asia since 2010. Central, South, East and Southeast Asian countries have done especially well: India alone is responsible for about 40 percent of the worldwide reduction in the clean-cooking access deficit, China for roughly 30 percent, and Indonesia for about 10 percent.

In terms of percentage points, this all looks great. In terms of absolute numbers, though, India still has the largest numbers of people without access to electricity services and clean cooking fuels; China ranks third in the world; Indonesia ranks 16th. These are countries with large populations, where a percentage point gained in access represents many more people than a percentage point gained in a smaller country. While their progress should be applauded, the challenge is far from over.

Third is the question of financing. From 2023 to 2024, international financial flows for clean energy fell in Central, South, East and Southeast Asia. That is a troubling trend, given that much remains to be done. The role of public utilities remains crucial.

In the 1990s and 2000s, Cambodia’s state utility, Electricité du Cambodge, transformed the fragmented, war-torn nation’s power grid into a unified network, partnering with independent power producers, using foreign investment to build transmission lines and power stations, and prioritising electricity connections and financing for low-income households. Such success is not a given.

Damilola Ogunbiyi, Special Representative of the Secretary-General for Sustainable Energy for All and Co-Chair of UN-Energy, reminded the HLPF that in Africa, some utilities have not achieved viability and are facing bankruptcy. “It’s about finance, at the end of the day,” she said, while highlighting that renewable energy is the least-cost pathway to meeting energy needs worldwide.

The current geopolitical situation only strengthens the case for increasing uptake of renewables and decreasing reliance on traditional fossil fuels, said Francesco La Camera, Director-General of the International Renewable Energy Agency (IRENA). This process, he noted, could be accelerated through mini-grids, peak time management (strategies to reduce and shift electricity consumption away from peak demand times), and removal of trade barriers to renewable energy technologies. Some of this is already happening in Asia, but with just four years to go until the 2030 deadline for achieving the SDGs, UN monitoring shows that progress is insufficient.

Globally, four structural trends are holding back progress. They are explained in the 2026 UN report, “Tracking SDG 7: The Energy Progress Report.” Progress on reducing energy intensity has mainly been achieved in industry, and is now slowing. Energy efficiency standards don’t necessarily match the technology available in the marketplace. Demand for air conditioning has increased, pushing up electricity demand. Growth in electricity demand now outstrips the supply of renewable energy that is actually available. Tackling just one of these barriers — let’s say energy intensity, for example — would require tripling the rate of progress in the next four years.

For now, the UN has launched a new work programme to accelerate action leading up to the 2030 deadline for the SDGs. On the current rate of progress, the world will probably not meet all the SDG 7 targets. But, given the energy gains already made in this region, Asia-Pacific countries may do better than others.

Dr Delia Paul is an associate of the International Institute for Sustainable Development, and is affiliated with Monash University’s Global Peace and Security research hub in Australia.

IPS UN Bureau

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

Harshit Singh

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would you call this a Gen Z movement?

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

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

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

What role has social media played?

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

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

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

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

How has the government responded?

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

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

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

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

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

What has the movement achieved?

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

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

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

What support does the movement need now?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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India added to human rights watchlist as repression intensifies in Modi’s third term CIVICUS Monitor 29.Jul.2026
Gen Z protests: new resistance rises CIVICUS | 2026 State of Civil Society Report
India: ‘When civil society is constrained, it cannot challenge power or amplify excluded voices’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Devanshi Vaid and Smarinita Shetty 11.Dec.2025

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“They say driving is only for men. But women have proved that they, too, can drive.” Credit: Learning Together.

By External Source
KABUL, Aug 7 2026 (IPS)

The Taliban’s rise to power robbed Mehrmaa of her husband, her job and her chance to live freely.

It was a cold, snowy night in March 2022 when Mehrmaa’s neighbors brought her husband’s lifeless body home. He had disappeared more than seven months earlier. Mehrmaa had barely managed to cope with the new restrictions imposed on women by the Taliban, and now she felt as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders.

“At the end of our road home, there were seven coffins containing bodies that had been delivered to their families. Seven months ago they had been taken alive and now they have been returned dead,” Mehrmaa says.

“I will continue to fight against forced marriage for the sake of my children and in memory of my late husband, until my last breath,” Mehrmaa says

Mehrmaa describes how, in July 2021, the Taliban took over the provinces and its forces entered her hometown on motorbikes. The Taliban raised their flag in the centre of the city as a sign of victory. Government helicopters bombed the city, leaving many people homeless and without shelter. Mehrmaa’s province was the first to fall under Taliban oppression. Many fled in panic.

“The state kidnapped many young men to defend the city, including my husband.”

After the Taliban takeover, women were threatened with imprisonment if they walked the streets alone.

“Women were flogged in public for small and frivolous reasons. Widowed women and underage girls were forced into marriages without their consent.”

Women faced daily hardships, regardless of whether they had male relatives to protect them.

“Now that the Taliban are in power in Afghanistan, what can we do? We only live for our children. Women want to work so they can earn money for their families.”

Under the Taliban, women were forbidden from working. Mehrmaa wanted to continue working to support her children. That drove her onto the streets.

“Now I live a nomadic life with my children. We have no permanent home and we don’t stay in one place for long.”

Work became a means of survival

Mehrmaa is a trained teacher and midwife. She treats women’s fertility problems with herbs and gives massages for knee, back and joint pain. Under her late husband’s guidance, Mehrmaa learned to drive. She ran the first driving school for women in her province and taught hundreds of women how to drive.

Then the Taliban banned women from driving. Under the direction of the Ministry of the Promotion of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice, or morality police, local Taliban authorities reprimanded Mehrmaa and issued her a warning.

“They say driving is only for men. But women have proved that they, too, can drive. Even those who don’t have a husband in their family have learnt to drive.”

After her husband died, Mehrmaa had to continue working to feed her children. To survive, she returned to the city and began working as a teacher.

Despite changing careers, Mehrmaa was once again banned from working. Girls were banned from attending school from high school onwards, and educational institutions were closed to them. Mehrmaa took up work as a domestic helper and also provided personal physical education lessons to girls and women who had been excluded from school.

She is also a skilled physiotherapist. She founded the first women-only sports and massage centre so that she could help women manage their weight and improve their overall health. Mehrmaa’s health advice has given hope to women who had lost faith in their recovery.

Through her work, Mehrmaa met an 18-year-old girl who had fallen into a well two years earlier, damaging her legs, arms and ribs in the accident. Mehrmaa treated the girl’s muscles by massaging them with olive and black cumin oil. In less than two months, the girl was able to move.

The girl’s father praised Mehrmaa’s skills at the local mosque. Men heard about her healing abilities and rushed to propose marriage to her.

The Taliban regime considers it shameful for an unmarried woman to work alone. When the morality police learnt that Mehrmaa had rejected all offers of marriage, they banned her from working.

Mehrmaa rejected a life of dependence on others.

“For the sake of my children, I want to earn my own honest living and not live under the humiliation of anyone,” she says.

Sometimes injustice is a greater pain than poverty.

“I will continue to fight against forced marriage for the sake of my children and in memory of my late husband, until my last breath,” Mehrmaa says.

Once again, Mehrmaa moved with her children, this time to the northeast of the country. She brought with her hope for justice and a better future.

The women of her new village encouraged Mehrmaa to stay and help provide healthcare at local clinics. They told her about the countless pregnant women who die before they can reach a hospital.

The women in the village speak of Mehrmaa with admiration, describing her as incredibly kind and capable.

“It’s as if there’s light in every finger of hers,” they say, using an Afghan proverb to describe someone who is highly skilled and brings much good to those around them.

Despite constant losses, threats, and marriage proposals, Mehrmaa keeps going. She fights for her children, for women in need, and for a better future. Mehrmaa envisions an Afghanistan where women can work freely, study, and take care of their families.

Excerpt:

Young people facing Hiroshima’s Atomic Bomb Dome as storm clouds give way to morning light—a metaphor for humanity’s choice between living under the nuclear shadow and building a world without nuclear weapons. Credit: INPS Japan

By Katsuhiro Asagiri
HIROSHIMA, Japan, Aug 7 2026 (IPS)

This year’s Hiroshima Peace Declaration did not begin with words of remembrance alone. It opened instead with what the declaration called “military invasions using nuclear weapons as tools of intimidation,” “imperious actions by major powers in violation of international law,” and the failure of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty, or NPT, Review Conference — for the third consecutive time — to adopt a final document.

The order was deliberate. The catastrophe of 81 years ago is not a memory sealed off in the past. It is directly connected to a present in which nuclear weapons are once again invoked as a means of projecting state power and coercing adversaries.

Hiroshima’s mayor, Kazumi Matsui, described a world in which distrust breeds retaliation, and retaliation is used to justify further violence. Such cycles, he warned, could ultimately result in “another Hiroshima or Nagasaki.”

At the same ceremony, Izumi Nakamitsu, the U.N. under-secretary-general and high representative for disarmament affairs, delivered a message from Secretary-General António Guterres that distilled the warning into a single question: What has humanity learned from Hiroshima? Will it choose a peaceful future, or continue to live under the shadow of nuclear annihilation?

This was not a rhetorical flourish reserved for a commemorative ceremony. What followed was an account of a world in which decades of nuclear arms reductions are being reversed, the norm against nuclear testing is under strain, military spending is surging and nuclear threats are increasingly used as instruments of intimidation.

One message spoke through the memories of survivors; the other through the crisis confronting the international system. But both arrived at the same place. Will the world continue to call an order sustained by fear “security”? Or will it restore dialogue, diplomacy, international law and trust — all of them slow and difficult — to the center of security policy?

The remains of the Prefectural Industry Promotion Building, after the dropping of the atomic bomb, in Hiroshima, Japan. This site was later preserved as a monument. Credit: UN Photo/DB

At the heart of the Peace Declaration was not nuclear strategy, but human experience.

It recalled a woman who could never forget her sister, whose skin had peeled away and whose face had been horribly disfigured by the bombing. It spoke of another woman who was exposed to the bomb at the age of 3, suffered repeated illnesses and lived in fear of what disease might strike next.

And there was a man who survived the bombing at 9. Watching civilians die in Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, he told young people that building a world without conflict must begin with overcoming the impulse toward conflict within themselves and making an effort to understand the perspectives of others.

Credit: UN photo

Such testimony is a reminder that the damage caused by nuclear weapons does not end with the blast. Radiation-related illness, the loss of family, discrimination and anxiety about the future can shape a life for decades. When strategists calculate the value of possessing nuclear weapons, it is this long span of human time that most easily disappears from view.

Mr. Guterres’s message noted that as the number of hibakusha, the atomic bomb survivors, declines, the importance of their words only grows. Their testimony is more than a record of tragedy. It is evidence that brings the abstract concept of nuclear deterrence back to the reality of human bodies and human lives.

Mr. Matsui called on citizens and young people to build connections across national borders with those who hold different values. Mr. Guterres urged governments to choose dialogue over division and cooperation over confrontation. The proposals may appear to operate on different scales, but they share a premise: Distrust among nations deepens when societies lose the capacity to understand those they see as different.

The Nuclear “Bargain” Nations Can No Longer Agree On

To understand the present crisis, it is necessary to examine the bargain on which the NPT rests.

Non-nuclear-weapon states agree not to acquire nuclear arms. Nuclear-weapon states undertake to pursue nuclear disarmament in good faith. And all parties retain the right to the peaceful use of nuclear energy under international safeguards. The treaty bound these three commitments together as a single grand bargain.

The framework was never complete. India, Pakistan and Israel remain outside the treaty, while North Korea has declared its withdrawal. Nor have the nuclear-weapon states recognized by the treaty fully honored their longstanding commitment to disarm.

NPT under pressure. Credit: INPS Japan

One dispute over the final document concerned language stating that Iran must not seek nuclear weapons. The United States and others pressed for stronger wording on Iran’s uranium enrichment and its cooperation with the International Atomic Energy Agency, or IAEA. Iran objected to being singled out and argued that attacks by the United States and Israel on its nuclear facilities had themselves damaged international law and the nonproliferation regime.

But Iran was not the sole cause of the breakdown. It was where a deeper fracture came to the surface.

In the war in Ukraine, the safety of nuclear-related sites, including the Zaporizhzhia Nuclear Power Plant, has repeatedly been placed at risk. In the Middle East, a zone free of nuclear weapons and other weapons of mass destruction, first promised in 1995, has still not been established. And under AUKUS, the security partnership among Australia, Britain and the United States, the planned transfer of nuclear-powered submarine technology to a non-nuclear-weapon state has raised questions about safeguards and the precedent it may set.

Meanwhile, China is expanding its nuclear forces, arms control between the United States and Russia is receding, and all nine nuclear-armed states are modernizing their arsenals. If nuclear powers and their allies place ever greater importance on deterrence while demanding restraint only from non-nuclear states, suspicion will inevitably grow that the treaty is less a mechanism for preventing proliferation than a system for preserving the privileges of those that already possess the bomb.

The NPT Review Conference has now failed to agree on a final document three times in succession — in 2015, 2022 and 2026. The last consensus was reached in 2010.

The treaty will not disappear tomorrow, and there is no alternative framework with anything close to its near-universal membership. But institutions do not always collapse overnight. Each time promises are deferred, criticism of violations is applied selectively and a conference ends without agreement, a little more faith is lost in the proposition that states are safer when they abide by the system.

As Ms. Nakamitsu observed after the Review Conference, nonproliferation and disarmament are two sides of the same coin. Nuclear-weapon states cannot indefinitely demand that others forgo nuclear arms while failing to meet their own obligations under Article VI of the NPT. The problem is not the wording of the treaty. It is whether governments still believe in the bargain it represents.

An AI-generated conceptual illustration shows opposing rows of strategic missile launchers beyond a broken restraint, symbolizing the collapse of binding arms-control limits and a renewed nuclear arms race in which each side’s pursuit of security increases the danger for all. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri

The signs of eroding trust extend far beyond the conference room.

The New Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty, or New START, which imposed verifiable limits on the strategic nuclear forces of the United States and Russia, expired on Feb. 5, 2026. For the first time in more than half a century, the strategic arsenals of the two countries that possess most of the world’s nuclear weapons are no longer subject to legally binding limits.

The norm against nuclear testing is also under pressure. In 2025, the U.S. president spoke of resuming “testing,” without making clear whether he meant nuclear explosive tests or missile trials. Against that backdrop, the United States became the only country to vote against a draft resolution in the U.N. General Assembly’s First Committee calling for the entry into force of the Comprehensive Nuclear-Test-Ban Treaty, or CTBT. Even if no explosive test takes place, ambiguity from a major power about its support for a longstanding norm can give other countries a pretext to weaken it in turn.

Military spending is climbing as well. According to the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, or SIPRI, global military expenditure reached a record $2.887 trillion in 2025, marking an 11th consecutive annual increase in real terms. Spending rose by 14 percent in Europe and by 8.1 percent in Asia and Oceania.

Every government has an explanation: Russia’s invasion, China’s rise, uncertainty about alliance commitments, preparations for regional conflict. Considered separately, each can be understood as a response to a security concern. But one country’s defense appears to another as a threat. One side arms in response to the other, prompting the other to build up again. This is the security dilemma: Actions taken in the name of safety can make the system as a whole more dangerous.

Supporters of nuclear deterrence point to the fact that nuclear weapons have not been used in war since Hiroshima and Nagasaki as evidence that deterrence works. Yet there have also been numerous episodes in which false alarms, equipment failures, misread intelligence or errors of judgment brought the world dangerously close to nuclear war.

At a discussion held alongside the 2026 NPT Review Conference, the lesson was expressed in a stark phrase: “Luck is not a security strategy.” Nuclear deterrence requires every future leader, every intelligence assessment and every communications system to function correctly in every crisis. As artificial intelligence is incorporated into warning and command-and-control systems, faster decision-making could also leave less time to recognize and correct a mistake.

Whether nuclear deterrence played a role in the past and whether it can remain safe indefinitely are not the same question.

What the Ban Treaty Can Do — and What It Cannot

The 2nd meeting of state parties to TPNW toook place at the United Nations Headquarters in New York between 27 November and 1 December in 2023. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri, President of INPS Japan.

Tonga’s accession in July 2026 brought to 100 the number of countries that have signed, ratified or acceded to the treaty. Of these, 75 are states parties.

The TPNW comprehensively prohibits the development, testing, production, possession, use and threat of use of nuclear weapons. It also requires states parties to assist people harmed by nuclear weapons use and testing and to remediate contaminated environments.

That is where it differs from the NPT. While the NPT primarily manages the relationship between nuclear-weapon and non-nuclear-weapon states, the TPNW treats nuclear weapons themselves as a humanitarian issue and a matter of international law. It asks not who should be permitted to possess nuclear arms, but whether possessing them can be considered acceptable at all.

The Review Conference is expected to focus on a political declaration rejecting nuclear use and threats of use without exception; progress in carrying out the 2022 Vienna Action Plan; the work of the Scientific Advisory Group; mechanisms for victim assistance and environmental remediation; the designation of an international authority to verify the elimination of nuclear weapons; and the further universalization of the treaty.

Particular attention will fall on a proposed international trust fund for victim assistance and environmental remediation. The effects of nuclear weapons use and testing are still felt in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, at the Semipalatinsk test site in Kazakhstan, in the Marshall Islands and across other Pacific islands. If the fund takes shape, disarmament will no longer be only a negotiation over future numbers of nuclear warheads. It will also become a question of nuclear justice: Who bears responsibility for harm already done?

The TPNW has an obvious limitation. No nuclear-armed state has joined it, and the treaty alone cannot compel the elimination of nuclear warheads. Ignoring that fact would obscure the distance between establishing a prohibition and achieving actual disarmament.

But three consecutive failures at NPT Review Conferences have also shown that waiting for agreement among the nuclear powers will not produce progress on its own. The NPT can preserve the legal obligation to disarm, while the TPNW develops the norm of prohibition and practical approaches to victim assistance, environmental remediation and verification. The two treaties can be treated not as rivals, but as complementary frameworks, each addressing gaps left by the other.

Where Does Japan Stand?

The Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons, signed 20 September 2017 by 50 United Nations member states. Credit: UN Photo / Paulo Filgueiras

Attending as an observer would not commit Japan to immediate accession. Some NATO countries that rely on the U.S. nuclear deterrent have attended previous meetings of states parties after explicitly setting out their differences with the treaty.

Japan’s participation would expose the tension between its reliance on nuclear deterrence and its identity as the only country to have suffered atomic bombings in war. But it would also allow Japan to draw on its extensive experience in medical care for survivors, research on the effects of radiation, preservation of testimony, victim assistance, environmental remediation and disarmament education to help build practical mechanisms.

For years, the Japanese government has described its role as a “bridge” between nuclear-weapon and non-nuclear-weapon states. But building a bridge requires listening, in the same room, to what each side fears and what each considers unjust. That claim loses credibility if Japan remains anchored to only one bank.

Rethinking What We Call “Reality”

Both messages called on citizens to act because nuclear policy is not shaped by governments and experts alone.

Through education, journalism, elections, culture, investment and everyday language, societies learn to regard nuclear weapons either as a guarantee of security or as an unacceptable humanitarian threat. That shared understanding, in turn, defines the range of policies a government believes it can pursue.

A future lived under the shadow of nuclear fear may not be chosen all at once by a single leader. It can also be chosen through an accumulation of small acts of acceptance: tolerating nuclear threats when they come from one’s own side, equating military expansion with security, and confining the testimony of atomic bomb survivors and nuclear test victims to commemorative anniversaries.

A world without nuclear weapons will not be achieved at a single conference, either. It will require people to learn what happened in the atomic bombings and nuclear tests; speak with those who hold different views; reject nuclear threats whether they come from an ally or an adversary; press governments to fulfill their disarmament obligations and attend the TPNW conference; and support victims and disarmament education. Each step may be modest. Each can also help change the standards by which society judges nuclear weapons.

What Hiroshima offered the world this year was not an optimistic prediction. It was a choice.

A future in which humanity continues to balance one nuclear terror against another — or a future in which nations build a common security that no longer requires nuclear weapons.

No one needs to be an expert to answer that question, and no one needs to wait for a government’s permission. Can security that depends on the threat of incinerating cities truly be called security? Asking ourselves that question is the first political act.

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

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Excerpt:

A Rohingya refugee points to the landslide that killed two of Abdu Rozork’s daughters and two of their children in their bamboo shelter in a refugee camp in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh, last month. Credit: Mohammed Zonaid/IPS

By Mohammed Zonaid
COX'S BAZAR, Bangladesh, Aug 6 2026 (IPS)

Abdu Rozork awoke suddenly to the sound of children screaming. Heavy monsoon rains had sent a landslide barrelling into the section of their bamboo shelter where the women and children were sleeping.

Neighbours rushed to help dig through the mud with their bare hands, but it was too late. Two of Rozork’s daughters and two grandchildren were killed.

Having fled war in Myanmar only two years earlier, Rozork had believed his family would finally find safety among the over one million Rohingya refugees living in densely packed camps in Cox’s Bazar, southeast Bangladesh.

“I escaped conflict in Rakhine State to save my family,” he told IPS. “But I could not save them here.”

Early waves of Muslim minority Rohingya fleeing violence and persecution in Myanmar were housed in the first large-scale camps set up in Cox’s Bazar in the early 1990s. In 2017 a devastating crackdown by the Myanmar military against the Rohingya community and militants in Rakhine State forced another mass exodus, this time of over 700,000 refugees, creating the world’s largest refugee settlement.

Since 2024 and the disintegration of Myanmar amidst civil war, these overcrowded camps have been joined by further waves of civilians fleeing a complex conflict between the junta and the Arakan Army (AA), an ethno-nationalist insurgent group that has seized control over much of Rakhine State, as well as the involvement of Rohingya militants. According to data released by UNHCR, by June those new arrivals in Cox’s Bazar numbered 153,640.

But no new land has been allocated to this recent wave of refugees for building shelters. Many families now have to share with relatives or build makeshift homes on steep hillsides vulnerable to landslides and flooding. Cutbacks in international funding have also led to cuts in classes for children and reduced food rations.

Days of heavy rain since early July triggered landslides and flooding in several of the camps, killing at least 17 people and displacing more than 3,000, according to Human Rights Watch.

Rozork said he had repeatedly asked humanitarian agencies for help with tarpaulins and to make a retaining wall. His bamboo shelter stood at the foot of a hill, and rainwater was coming in.

But organisations responsible for site management told him assistance was unavailable because his family had only recently arrived in Bangladesh. “No one warned us that the shelter was in a dangerous place,” he said. Days later the mud swept down.

His family’s tragedy is one of many among the newest Rohingya arrivals who escaped one crisis only to enter another.

Mohammed Kayes, now 13, was attending school in Buthidaung Township in northern Rakhine when fighting intensified between the Myanmar military and the AA, spreading towards his village. Schools closed, food became scarce, and medical services disappeared.

His family fled through forests and villages for seven days before reaching the Bangladesh border. During the journey, Kayes said Arakan Army members detained his family. After several days, they released them but later took his father away for what they described as questioning. He never returned.

After finally reaching Bangladesh, tragedy struck again. His mother, suffering from a stomach tumour, died after months of illness despite efforts to obtain treatment.

Kayes now helps care for his younger siblings while living with his grandmother. He receives food rations, but with the loss of his mother, they do not qualify for gas cylinders to cook.

His dream is to become a teacher. “I want to study,” he told IPS. “I want to build my future.”

Sawfowan’s dream is to work for the United Nations, but conflict also engulfed his village in Buthidaung, closing schools. “We heard gunfire almost every day,” the 17-year-old said. The men in the family had to flee over a year ago to avoid forced conscription by the AA.

His family struggled to obtain medicine for his diabetic mother, so in May they also decided to flee. According to Sawfowan, Bangladesh border authorities twice pushed the family back across the frontier, but they managed to enter on a third attempt and reunite with relatives inside the camps. Several families now share a single bamboo and tarpaulin shelter.

“I feel safer here,” he said. “But life is still very difficult.”

Community leaders say such experiences are increasingly common among the newest arrivals.

Mohammed Musa, a Rohingya youth leader, said families consistently report forced displacement, disappearances, movement restrictions and food shortages in Rakhine.

“Many arrive carrying deep trauma after losing relatives or surviving repeated displacement inside Myanmar,” he said. “But once they reach Bangladesh, they face another struggle.”

UNHCR says newly arrived refugees receive food assistance, cooking gas, core relief items and protection services under existing government approvals. However, the agency acknowledges that the absence of new land and severe funding shortages have limited humanitarian efforts to relocate families to safer areas or improve shelter conditions.

“The recent loss of lives due to the heavy monsoon rains is a tragic reminder of how vulnerable the camps remain,” Shari Nijman, UNHCR Bangladesh Communications Officer, said.

As conflict continues in Myanmar, Bangladeshi authorities say Rohingya are crossing the border every week despite tighter controls.

The Arakan Army now controls most of Rakhine State but the capital, Sittwe, and has driven Rohingya from their homes. Survivors and rights groups have documented allegations of forced recruitment and mass killings of Rohingya in the village of Hoyyar Siri by the Arakan Army in May 2024, as well as drone attacks on people gathering on the border, burning of villages, arbitrary arrests, and other abuses. The AA denies it carried out the Hoyyar Siri massacre.

Myanmar military airstrikes also continue to displace civilians across the state.

Rohingya fleeing the violence have also been pushed back at the Bangladesh border, while hundreds have died attempting dangerous sea crossings and falling victim to traffickers.

As in many conflicts worldwide, Bangladesh and the international community are faced with a complex crisis where divisions between refugees and combatants become blurred.

Despite the risks, the exodus has not stopped. “Our reports suggest that every week 50 to 60 new Rohingya are entering Bangladesh,” Refugee Relief and Repatriation Commissioner Mizanur Rahman told The Daily Star in July.

IPS UN Bureau Report

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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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Workers are patrolling in a wind power plant on Tan Thanh beach, Go Cong city of Viet Nam. Countries in Asia and the Pacific are moving towards green transitions in the wake of higher oil prices. Credit: Unsplash/Thompson Le

By Michał Podolski
BANGKOK, Thailand, Aug 5 2026 (IPS)

Inaction and maintaining the status quo of fossil fuel dependence carry significant costs. The recent closure of the Strait of Hormuz, for instance, caused enormous losses to the global economy, with many Asia-Pacific countries bearing disproportionately larger adverse impacts. Had these economies had a more diversified energy mix, they would have benefited from such resilience under current circumstances.

Green transition, however, comes at a significant cost – investment in environmental sustainability. This investment brings tangible returns and benefits, such as cleaner air, better health, a vibrant natural environment or reduced negative climate impacts. What is the overall balance of these costs and benefits, opportunities seized or lost, innovation, or status quo maintenance?

This overall balance amounts to decisions for a faster or slower shift towards environmental sustainability and green transition. Each carries fiscal, investment and financing consequences with differing socioeconomic outcomes. Overall, because of these countless dimensions, decision-making for green transition is inherently complex. In principle, humanity has never undertaken a green transition before and lacks established blueprints.

ESCAP’s Economic and Social Survey of Asia and the Pacific 2026 sheds light on this challenge. The report identifies decarbonisation pathways that offer lower costs and higher benefits, highlights bottlenecks that inflate expenses, clarifies current priorities, and examines socioeconomic impacts. In short, the Survey 2026 identifies cheaper options with greater impacts.

For instance, in some Asia-Pacific countries, the choices on decarbonisation are relatively straightforward. With limited fossil fuel dependence, low risks of asset stranding and minimal vested interests in coal, oil and gas industries, these economies are advancing renewable energy expansion. They are leapfrogging decarbonisation hurdles and reaping steady benefits from carbon-free energy.

However, economies heavily reliant on fossil fuels are confronting tougher dilemmas. Faster carbon withdrawal brings higher immediate costs, offset only by longer-term benefits. Labour markets face greater pressure from anticipated reskilling and green sector development. These economies face elevated risks and must proceed cautiously. Ultimately, the green transition demands strong and prosperous economies capable of delivering goods and services to build a carbon-free world.

As for labour markets, net employment effects of green transition can be positive overall, yet uneven across countries and sectors. Fossil fuel job losses, potentially abrupt ones, are often concentrated in mineral-rich areas, with knock-on effects on related industries. Historical coal phase-outs without prompt government support reveal prolonged unemployment, youth out-migration, and community decline. Older workers are particularly at risk of exiting the labour force permanently. In contrast, green jobs emerge more gradually, often elsewhere, and require different skills. This mismatch highlights the need for proactive government planning – including funded reskilling and economic diversification – to redeploy skills from declining sectors.

Inflation provides another example of dilemmas faced by policymakers that are or want to pursue green transition. Higher inflation undermines economic activity and complicates transition-oriented policymaking. For instance, green transition policies, such as carbon pricing, can gradually increase prices, and thus inflation. This can raise interest rates, hinder capital-intensive green investments and pose financial stability challenges for central banks. Economies may tolerate modest and stable inflation, but high and volatile inflation will undermine the green transition efforts.

The Survey 2026 also highlights that government interventions like subsidies can be beneficial but can also lock-in suboptimal technologies. Too much of a good thing can be harmful. Government policies should guide objectives and priorities, for example, the need for better and cheaper energy storage, and enable people and enterprises to discover the most effective solutions. Market-friendly policy tools, such as technology-neutral emission limits, clear long-term plans and streamlined permitting, are all important policy adjustments.

“Take the right decisions, allow markets to work in a fair way” was a message on climate action by the UN Secretary-General António Guterres in 2025. The Survey 2026 builds on this, emphasising that market mechanisms can drive decarbonisation by identifying the best opportunities. The report also reinforces the call for “right decisions” to ensure a just and inclusive transition.

There are often easier and harder paths to the same goal. With due regard to diverse national circumstances, Asia-Pacific economies must progressively move to a low-carbon future, while safeguarding socioeconomic well-being of their people. There is no universal set of policies, but there is one clear direction. Although some costs may seem high today, inaction would prove far more expensive. At the end, optimal paths require pragmatic, evidence-based judgement: gradual where necessary, ambitious where feasible, and always mindful of who bears today’s costs versus tomorrow’s benefits.

Michal Podolski is Associate Economic Affairs Officer, ESCAP

IPS UN Bureau

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Credit: Joseph Barrientos on Unsplash

By James Alix Michel
VICTORIA, Seychelles, Aug 3 2026 (IPS)

Earlier this year, I called publicly for a precautionary pause on deep-sea mining, arguing that it is not a rejection of progress, but a commitment to sound science.

I made that appeal because I believed governments meeting this year at the International Seabed Authority (ISA) would finally choose caution over haste. Watching the results emerge from Kingston, Jamaica, over these past weeks, I must admit to real disappointment.

But I want to be equally clear: disappointment is not defeat, and there is still every reason for hope.

The 31st session of the ISA concluded its work in Kingston with the Council ending two weeks of negotiations on 24 July without adopting the long-debated Mining Code. Unresolved issues, ranging from environmental safeguards and liability to inspection, compliance and benefit-sharing, remain exactly that: unresolved.

Governments including France, Costa Rica, South Africa, Mexico, Germany, Palau and Brazil rightly insisted these gaps must be closed before any commercial mining is contemplated. That the Authority could not bridge them after fifteen years of negotiation tells its own story about how far science and governance still lag behind commercial ambition.

James Alix Michel

That pressure has an external source too. The United States, which is not a party to the Law of the Sea Convention and sits outside the ISA altogether, has continued to advance its own unilateral licensing process for the Clarion-Clipperton Zone, the vast Pacific seabed that holds the largest concentration of exploration contracts on Earth. Five applications are already on record, with reports suggesting more may follow. When a single state can simply step outside a multilateral framework and issue permits for a shared global commons, it does not just threaten the ocean floor; it threatens the very idea that humanity can govern anything collectively. That, to me, is Kingston’s deeper failure: not that a code went unfinished, but that the multilateral system protecting our common heritage was tested, and did not hold as firmly as it should.

And yet.

I have spent much of my life in rooms where the odds seemed stacked against the ocean, and I have learned that setbacks in these negotiations are rarely the last word. There is real cause for hope in what else happened in Kingston.

When four deep-sea mining companies sought observer status at the Assembly, dozens of governments pushed back, and the decision was postponed rather than rushed through. Vanuatu brought forward an agenda item on “Ensuring Adequate Scientific Understanding to Support Informed Decision-Making,” precisely the argument I have been making since earlier this year: that we cannot regulate what we do not yet understand. And crucially, the Council did not simply walk away. It agreed a roadmap for further work, inviting states and observers to submit written proposals on the outstanding issues by 1 October 2026. The door to a properly safeguarded process remains open. It has not been slammed shut.

Most encouraging of all is the growing number of nations refusing to be rushed. When I first raised this call earlier this year, more than 40 countries had already backed a moratorium or precautionary pause. Today that number stands at 45, including seven Pacific nations, alongside outright bans by France and by Palau and New Caledonia within their own waters. They are joined by more than 70 companies, 82 financial institutions representing some €24 trillion in assets, and over 900 scientists from more than 70 countries, all saying the same thing: we do not yet know enough to proceed safely.

This is not an anti-mining movement. It is a pro-science movement. Nobody serious is arguing that the world will never need these minerals, or that the seabed must remain untouched forever. What I am arguing, and what the evidence increasingly supports, is that decisions with potentially irreversible consequences for ecosystems we have barely begun to map should not be made under commercial or geopolitical pressure. Scientists directly observed less than a tenth of the size of Belgium’s worth of deep seafloor before these negotiations began. This year’s IUCN Red List found that 62 percent of molluscs known only from hydrothermal vents are now at risk of extinction, many of them identified within the last decade. We are still discovering what we might destroy, and we are only beginning to understand the deep seabed’s role in storing carbon and regulating ocean chemistry.

I say this as someone who has governed a small island nation whose entire future is tied to the health of its ocean. Seychelles did not treat marine protection and economic progress as opposing forces. Through marine spatial planning protecting thirty percent of our waters, and the world’s first sovereign blue bond, we showed precaution can be financed and delivered without halting development. That experience is precisely why I believe a precautionary pause on deep-sea mining is a down payment on progress, not a brake on it.

Small island developing states cannot afford to gamble with the ocean systems that feed us and anchor our economies. I say this with humility: Seychelles has banned deep-sea mining in its own waters under our Marine Spatial Plan, yet is not among the 45 nations formally backing the international moratorium. That gap between what we protect at home and what we champion abroad is one I hope Seychelles, and others like it, will now close.

So my message to fellow leaders, particularly across Africa and the small island states that depend most on healthy oceans, is this:

Kingston’s disappointment is real, but it is not the end of the story. Forty-five nations have already shown that caution and ambition can coexist. I urge every government that has not yet done so, especially those still weighing their position ahead of the October deadline for written proposals, to add its voice to that growing coalition. This is not about obstructing progress; it is about demanding the evidence that ensures whatever progress we make does no lasting harm to the seabed we all share. I also urge regional bodies, from the African Union to Pacific and Caribbean groupings, to adopt common positions, so no single small state stands alone against powerful commercial interests.

The common heritage of humankind deserves patience as much as ambition. Kingston reminded us how much work remains. It also reminded us how many are still willing to do it.

James Alix Michel is the former President of Seychelles (2004-2016), Founder of the James Michel Foundation and the University of Seychelles, and a global advocate for the blue economy, ocean conservation and climate resilience.

IPS UN Bureau

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