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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PPIN is designed to dismantle these barriers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Since the Taliban returned to power, women and girls have been progressively banned from education, public spaces, and most forms of employment. Credit: Learning Together.

By External Source
KABUL, Apr 16 2026 (IPS)

Ever since childhood, Khatera’s (not her real name) dream was to study medicine at university and become a doctor.

“Every time I saw doctors in their white coats, I would tell myself that I wished one day I could wear a similar coat and serve the people”, she recallls.

Over the years, she felt that each passing day brought her closer to her dream, at least until five years ago, when the Taliban returned to power in Afghanistan and upended her lifelong dream.

Khatera tells her story: “When I finished school, I was supposed to take the university entrance exam and had prepared fully for it, leaving nothing to chance. But unfortunately, the Taliban came to power in Afghanistan, and everything turned upside down. Their very first act was to ban girls and women from education.”

“At that moment, I felt as if all my childhood dreams had been reduced to dust. I was so exhausted and hopeless that it felt like my life had screeched to a halt. To be denied education is to be forced to live in absolute darkness”, she says.

Khatera, 26, lives in a remote village in Badakhshan province with her parents, two sisters, and two brothers. She fell into depression when she realized she could no longer continue her education.

“As the days passed, my emotional and mental state worsened. My depression, exhaustion, and distress deepened with each passing day. The Taliban kept ramping up the restrictions on women until we were no longer even allowed to move around freely. I gradually began to lose hope in life”.

Suddenly, however, a light appeared on the horizon. One day she received a telephone call from a former classmate. There was a possibility to pursue university courses online, tailored for women, her friend informed her.

Economist Abdul Farid Salangi founded the Online Zan University in 2022. He serves as the school’s director from abroad. The project aims to support girls who have been denied an education. For Salangi, providing that education is a duty, because Afghanistan cannot develop without educated women.

Khatera immediately applied for admission to study psychology at the Online University and was accepted.

However, internet connectivity in her village was poor, and she had to move in with her sister in city in order to pursue her studies.

Khatera is now in her fourth semester. The teachers are from Afghanistan and some from abroad, and she says the quality of instruction is professional.

For Khatera, the online university is more than a place to study. She describes it as a light in the darkness.

Studying online is not without its difficulties, though. Internet access is intermittent and expensive. Khatera’s mother sells milk in the village to cover her expenses.

“The Online Zan University helped me escape a deep sense of hopelessness and gave my life meaning again”, says Khatera. The lectures take place at night and she has to live with her sister in the city, separated from the rest family, but Khatera says it is all worth it.

Salangi explains the motivation behind the project: “My goal in creating the university was to support girls who had been denied education. When schools and universities closed, hope and motivation vanished for thousands of girls. I knew if this continued, an entire generation would be lost, and society would face deep crises.”

“For me, this was a human responsibility”, concludes Salangi, who trained as a financial economist at Moscow International University.

Online Zan University started modestly. It had no budget and no organizational backing. Salangi reached out to colleagues and professors, many of whom volunteered, and gradually the activities grew.

Today, the university has several faculties, hundreds of teachers in Afghanistan and abroad, and administrative staff. It provides education to tens of thousands of women, almost free of charge.

Teaching often takes place in the evenings, since many of the teachers work elsewhere during the day. If in-person lectures cannot be arranged, lectures are recorded and the videos distributed.

Even though the lectures take place at night, Khatera says she studies hard and makes sure she does not miss them.

“I balance household chores and prepare for the webinars my professors assign. Honestly, I hardly notice how the days and nights pass by. Over time, all the fears and negative thoughts I once had have faded away. Now, I move forward with dreams and hope, imagining a bright future for myself,” Khatera says with delight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Origins of the GEF Funding Model

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The GEF Trust Fund

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

The Trust Fund finances activities across several environmental areas.

These include

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Global Biodiversity Framework Fund

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

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

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

Actions that are supported include the following:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nagoya Protocol Implementation Fund

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

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

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

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

The fund supports countries by helping them:

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

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

Least Developed Countries Fund

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

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

Typical projects include the following:

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

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

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

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

Special Climate Change Fund

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

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

It supports projects that:

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

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

Capacity Building Initiative for Transparency Trust Fund

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

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

This fund helps by supporting:

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

Strong reporting systems are important because they:

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

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

How the “family of funds” works together

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

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

These funds are coordinated so they can:

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

For example:

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

This ‘family’ structure improves:

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Future of GEF Financing

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

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

Its funding model mobilises additional resources from

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

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

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

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The Rohingya did not choose dependency on aid. It was created by the restrictions surrounding them. Credit: UNHCR/Amanda Jufrian

By Mohammed Zonaid
COX’S BAZAR, Bangladesh, Apr 14 2026 (IPS)

While global attention right now is on escalating geopolitical tensions involving the United States, Israel, and Iran, another crisis continues quietly in Bangladesh.

Beginning April 1, 2026, the World Food Programme (WFP) introduced a revised Targeting and Prioritisation Exercise (TPE) for Rohingya refugees living in camps in Cox’s Bazar and Bhasan Char, according to a statement released by the United Nations in Bangladesh on April 2.

Under the new system, refugee households will receive food assistance of $12, $10, or $7 per person per month, depending on their assessed level of food insecurity. Previously, all refugees received $12 per person.

On paper, vulnerability-based targeting appears reasonable. In many humanitarian crises, such systems help ensure that limited resources reach those most in need. However, the Rohingya context is different.

Nearly nine years after fleeing genocide and persecution in Myanmar, more than one million Rohingya refugees remain confined to camps in Bangladesh, according to the latest data from UNHCR Bangladesh including 144,456 biometrically identified new arrivals and 1,040,408 Registered refugees 1990s & post-2017. 78% them are Women and children.

Unlike refugees in many other countries, Rohingya in Bangladesh have extremely limited freedom of movement and cannot legally work or run small businesses within the camps. Refugees are also not formally employed by humanitarian organizations—except as volunteers receiving small daily allowances. As a result, they remain almost entirely dependent on humanitarian assistance.

Within this context, reducing aid raises serious concerns. When refugees are not permitted to engage in meaningful economic activity, food insecurity becomes less a household condition and more a structural outcome.

Humanitarian agencies have provided life-saving support for years, and their efforts should not be overlooked. But survival is not the same as stability. Instead of creating pathways toward self-reliance for Rohingya and local communities in Cox’s Bazar who are affected due to refugee statements, the current system has largely institutionalized dependency.

Many programs labeled as “livelihood initiatives” have not produced meaningful outcomes. Skills training programs—such as electrical repair or other technical courses—often fail to translate into real opportunities because refugees do not own motorbikes, electricity access is limited in many camp areas, refugees cannot legally move beyond the camps to seek work, and humanitarian organizations don’t employ trained refugees within their own operational structures.

This raises difficult questions: Why invest donor resources in skills that cannot realistically be applied? And what long-term strategy do these initiatives serve?

The new targeting model categorizes refugees as extremely food insecure, highly food insecure, or food insecure. Some vulnerable households—such as those led by elderly individuals, persons with disabilities, or children—will continue receiving the highest level of assistance.

Yet the broader reality remains unchanged: the entire Rohingya population in Bangladesh faces severe restrictions on economic participation.

Recent protests in the camps are often described as reactions to ration reductions. In reality, they reflect deeper concerns about uncertainty and the absence of long-term planning. Refugees are asking a simple question: What happens if funding declines further in the future? Where will we go? Well Bangladesh alone will be left dealing with the Rohingya crisis?

They want to send a message to the world: dependency on aid was designed around the Rohingya. It is time to think beyond relief and give them the tools to stand on their own feet.

Long-term strategic thinking is urgently needed. This includes serious discussions about ensuring safe and dignified lives in the camps until the Rohingya are able to return to Myanmar, expanding economic participation for refugees, and creating policies that allow them to contribute economically while remaining under appropriate regulation.

At the same time, Bangladesh itself is going through a transitional period after the election, and the new government and said it will work closely to make Rohingya repatriation possible and shared data on 8.29 lakh Rohingyas with Myanmar.

But the Rohingya crisis cannot be a lesser priority, the new government also needs to recognize that prolonged displacement cannot be managed indefinitely through restriction and relief alone—the same approach that largely characterized the policies of the previous government.

Carefully regulated work opportunities—such as camp-based enterprises, pilot employment schemes, or limited work authorization programs—could help reduce humanitarian dependency while preserving government oversight.

If even one or two members of each refugee household were allowed to work legally under controlled frameworks, humanitarian costs could gradually decline, camp economies could stabilize, and youth frustration could decrease.

Most importantly, dignity could begin to return.

After nearly nine years, international agencies have managed one of the world’s largest refugee operations with remarkable logistical capacity. Yet the central question remains: what durable systems have been created to help refugees stand on their own feet?

As global funding pressures increase and donor fatigue grows, humanitarian assistance is being recalibrated downward. Without structural reforms, this risks managing dependency more efficiently rather than reducing it.

The Rohingya did not choose dependency on aid. It was created by the restrictions surrounding them. Food assistance remains essential. But the future of an entire population cannot be defined solely by ration cards and vulnerability categories.

The Rohingya crisis requires more than improved targeting of aid. It requires policies that combine protection with participation and living with safety.

The world has learned how to feed the Rohingya.

The real test is whether it will allow them to stand—until the day they can safely return home to Myanmar with rights, safety, and dignity.

Otherwise, families quietly reduce meals. Young people seek unsafe informal labor. The risks of child labor, early marriage, unsafe migration. and involvement in illicit activities increase. When opportunity disappears, desperation fills the gap.

Mohammed Zonaid is a Rohingya SOPA 2025 honoree, freelance journalist, award-winning photographer, and fixer. He works with international agencies and has contributed to Myanmar Now, The Arakan Express News, The Diplomat Magazine, Frontier Myanmar, Inter Press Service, and the Myanmar Pressphoto Agency.

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By Katsuhiro Asagiri
TOKYO, Japan, Apr 7 2026 (IPS)

As tensions surrounding Iran deepen and uncertainty spreads across global energy markets, Japan is once again confronting a structural weakness: its heavy dependence on Middle Eastern oil.

For decades, Japan has relied on crude imports from a region repeatedly shaken by war, confrontation and instability. With the stability of the Strait of Hormuz and surrounding waters once again under threat, Tokyo is accelerating efforts to diversify both supply sources and transport routes. In that process, Kazakhstan has emerged as an increasingly important partner.

Yet the strengthening relationship between Japan and Kazakhstan is not limited to oil, uranium or logistics. It also has a deeper historical and ethical dimension. Both countries carry the memory of nuclear suffering and have sought to transform that memory into a foundation for dialogue, cooperation and advocacy for peace.

Central Asia plus Japan Dialogue” (CA+JAD) Credit: Primi Minister’s Office of Japan

That framework has since taken on even greater urgency.

One important element is the Trans-Caspian International Transport Route, the so-called Middle Corridor. Connecting Central Asia and Europe without passing through Russia, this route has drawn attention as a new transport channel for energy and strategic goods. In an era shaped by war, sanctions, shipping disruptions and intensifying rivalry among major powers, such corridors have become increasingly important for Japan.

Kazakhstan stands at the center of this calculation.

Middle Corridor. Credit: TITR

Japanese energy interests are already present in the Caspian region. INPEX, a Japanese company, holds stakes in major oil projects including Kazakhstan’s Kashagan field and Azerbaijan’s ACG field. Crude from these fields could serve as an alternative supply source to Middle Eastern oil for Japan. In addition, routes through the Caspian and Mediterranean can avoid the Strait of Hormuz, although that means longer transport times and higher shipping costs.

Karipbek Kuyukov(2nd from left) and Dmitriy Vesselov(2nd from right). Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri

Even so, energy alone cannot fully explain the distinctiveness of Japan-Kazakhstan ties.

What gives this relationship unusual depth is their shared historical experience of nuclear suffering. Kazakhstan endured the grave consequences of 456 nuclear tests conducted at the Semipalatinsk test site during the Soviet era. Japan remains the only country ever attacked with atomic bombs in wartime, and Hiroshima and Nagasaki continue to stand as enduring symbols of the catastrophic human cost of nuclear weapons.

The two histories are different. But the ethical language that emerged from them has much in common.

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

What matters here is the “dialogue” dimension of Kazakhstan’s 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

Through the Congress of Leaders of World and Traditional Religions, held in Astana since 2003, Kazakhstan has sought to position itself not merely as a supplier of resources or a transit country, but as a hub for dialogue across political, religious and civilizational divides. This initiative has become part of the country’s diplomatic identity, grounded in denuclearization, mediation and coexistence.

For Japan, this adds another layer to Kazakhstan’s significance. Kazakhstan is not only a country with oil, uranium and transport routes. It is also a state that has sought to transform its own history of suffering into diplomacy centered on peace, trust and human security.

7th Congress of Leaders of World and Traditional Religions Group Photo by Secretariate of the 7th Congress

This approach resonates with the realities of today’s world, where multiple crises overlap.

Credit: akorda.kz

In this context, the relationship between Japan and Kazakhstan carries a broader lesson.

Cooperation between states does not have to be shaped only by economic and strategic interests. It can also incorporate shared memory, moral purpose and a commitment to dialogue. In practical terms, that means cooperation on energy and transport. Politically, it means contributing to a more stable and diversified regional order. Humanitarianly, it means sustaining the argument that security must not be separated from its human consequences.

Of course, this relationship is not free from limits or contradictions. Alternative routes are costly. State behavior is still heavily shaped by strategic calculation. Dialogue alone cannot neutralize the pressures of war.

Even so, in an international environment marked by fragmentation, coercion and renewed nuclear anxiety, the growing closeness between Japan and Kazakhstan means more than a tactical adjustment. It is also an attempt to connect realism with responsibility.

That is why this relationship deserves attention.

At a time when many countries are retreating into narrower and more inward-looking definitions of national interest, Japan and Kazakhstan are seeking to build a partnership that links resource security and diplomacy, memory and strategy, and national resilience with the search for peace.

Credit: UN photo

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:

An artisan puts final touches to the monument of Magawa, a Tanzanian-born bomb-sniffing rat. Credit: APOPO

By Kizito Makoye
MOROGORO, Tanzania , Apr 7 2026 (IPS)

At Mazimbu village, not far from Tanzania’s Sokoine University of Agriculture (SUA), Stephano Jaka still remembers the night he trapped and killed a rat that had been feasting on his maize cobs – stored in a meticulously woven basket designed to protect grains from rodents.
“I felt a big sense of relief when I finally killed it. It had been causing huge losses to my family,” he tells IPS.

Thousands of kilometres away in Siem Reap, Cambodia, farmers were among the dignitaries invited on Saturday to honour a Tanzanian-born rat for detecting hundreds of landmines, helping to clear swathes of land for farming.

Where farmers in Tanzania’s Morogoro region still perceive rats as destructive creatures threatening their livelihoods, communities in Cambodia embrace one of the species as a life-saving hero – underscoring how a despised animal has come to embody entirely different meanings across continents.

Cambodia remains one of the world’s most landmine-infested countries, with millions of explosives still buried underground, making large areas unsafe for farming, settlement and development.

On the eve of the International Day for Mine Awareness, a 2.2-metre statue – the world’s first public monument dedicated to a life-saving rat – was unveiled. The monument honours Magawa, whose bomb-sniffing career began after a yearlong stint at Sokoine University. He was hailed not as a crop-raiding pest but as an unlikely hero whose extraordinary sense of smell helped uncover hidden dangers.

For years, Magawa worked across some of Cambodia’s most dangerous terrain, detecting more than 100 landmines and helping to make large areas safe before his death in 2022. He remains the only rat ever awarded the PDSA Gold Medal for bravery.

Carved from local stone by Cambodian artisans, the statue shows Magawa wearing his medal and operational harness. Its base incorporates fragments of decommissioned explosives, symbolising the threat he helped eliminate. Erected in central Siem Reap, the monument also directs visitors to APOPO’s centre, where they can learn about the rats’ work and the ongoing impact of landmines.

“Magawa became a global symbol of hope for Cambodia’s mine-affected communities. This statue honours his extraordinary service and the work of all APOPO HeroRATs who continue to save lives in Cambodia and around the world — step by step, life by life,” said Christophe Cox, founder of APOPO.

The tribute also serves as a reminder that millions of landmines remain buried, and efforts to clear them continue despite limited resources.

Magawa was trained by APOPO, a non-governmental organisation that deploys African giant pouched rats to detect explosives. Because they are too light to trigger landmines, the animals can safely search contaminated areas far more quickly than conventional methods.

Born at Sokoine University of Agriculture in Morogoro, Magawa showed early promise before being deployed to Cambodia in 2016, where he became one of the most successful detection animals in the programme.

In heavily affected regions such as Battambang, land once considered too dangerous has been cleared and returned to productive use, allowing communities to rebuild livelihoods and restore a sense of normalcy.

Magawa’s work also highlights a broader story of African innovation contributing to global solutions, with a programme developed in Tanzania now supporting mine clearance efforts in several countries.

Although Magawa died in 2022, other trained rats continue the work, helping to reduce the threat posed by unexploded landmines.

Residents of Morogoro spoke with a mix of pride, curiosity and quiet awe when reflecting on the global recognition of Magawa, the giant African pouched rat whose work in Cambodia has saved countless lives.

“Who would have thought a rat from our region could become a global hero?” said Jaka. “Here, rats are something we chase away. But Magawa has changed that story completely. He has shown us that even the smallest creatures can carry the biggest responsibilities.”

At the Morogoro main market, trader Rehema Msuya said Magawa’s story had sparked new conversations among residents about science and innovation.

“People now talk about rats differently,” she said. “We used to see them only as destructive. But this one saved lives and detected danger where machines sometimes fail. It makes you proud, knowing such intelligence can come from a rat.”

For some, Magawa’s legacy goes beyond admiration, emphasising the possibilities often overlooked.

“Magawa represents Africa in a very powerful way,” said Dar es Salaam-based secondary school teacher Godfrey Lwambano. “We often underestimate what we have – our environment, our knowledge, even our animals. Yet here is a creature trained with patience and care, going on to clear deadly landmines and protect communities far away.”

Young people in Morogoro, too, say the story touched them.

“When I first heard about him, I thought it was a joke,” said 22-year-old university student Neema Kibwana. “But when I learnt he worked for years detecting mines and even received awards, I was inspired. It shows that impact doesn’t depend on size or status.”

As the story of Magawa circulates in Tanzania and beyond, it continues to challenge long-held perceptions – transforming an animal once seen only as a pest into a symbol of ingenuity, resilience and hope.

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Bangladesh is scheduled to graduate from the least developed country (LDC) status in November this year after more than half a century. Bangladesh joined the UN club of LDCs in 1975 and consistently met all three graduation criteria – per capita Gross National Income (GNI), human asset and economic vulnerability – since 2018.

Anis Chowdhury

RMG’s dominance and failure to diversify

Bangladesh is indeed a leading, often the highest, user of Duty-Free Quota-Free (DFQF) facilities among LDCs, largely driving its RMG sector growth through the European Union (EU)’s Everything But Arms (EBA) scheme. This reliance on preferential access has made Bangladesh a dominant exporter among LDCs.

However, the RMG sector’s dominance also made Bangladesh highly vulnerable. In the late 1970s when the RMG sector started its journey, it accounted for less than 5% of Bangladesh’s total exports. By the end of the 1990s, this proportion had reached about three-fourths. After more than four decades, since 2013, it has been hovering between 80-85%, according to the Bangladesh Garment Manufacturers and Exporters Association (BGMEA).

Bangladesh’s heavy reliance on a single export item makes its export basket one of the least diversified among the global economies. This is starkly different from South Korea, a country from which Bangladesh received technical assistance to usher in its RMG sector. South Korea’s textile industry accounted for 33.3% of exports in 1970; it declined to 22.6% within two decades in 1990 as the economy diversified. By 1975 South Korea became a major exporter of electrical machinery and appliances, transport equipment and various other manufacturing products.

Bangladesh’s vulnerability does not arise only from its export product concentration. Bangladesh’s export market is also not diversified with close to 60% going to the EU and UK with apparel comprising more than 90%. The USA, which does not provide any LDC related preferential market access, accounts for about 16% Bangladesh’s exports.

Here, too, Bangladesh’s experience differs from that of South Korea. With the diversification of the economy, South Korea’s exports by destination also became less concentrated. For example, while around 63% of South Korea’s export went to Japan alone in 1960, the combined market share of Japan and the USA fell to around 56% by 1975.

The South Korean State’s autonomy from groups with a vested interest is well documented. Thus, its policies were driven by broader national interest. On the other hand, Bangladesh’s policy space has been captured by the RMG sector.

Undoubtedly, the preferential treatment by the state helped the RMG sector expand rapidly; but at the high cost of failure to diversify. Professor Munir Quddus of Prairie View A&M University and President, Bangladesh Development Initiative (BDI) compared the RMG sector’s support environment with Leather exports to demonstrate the RMG sector’s state capture. His findings, summarized below, are revealing:

The usual justification for such preferential treatment is that RMG is the “largest export sector and foreign exchange earner”. But the argument is perverse. Given some of these subsidies have been in existence for nearly 50 years, prudent policymaking demands that it is high time to redirect scarce resources to support other potentially dynamic export sectors.

Being used to state support, the RMG sector ignored the need for raising productivity. The sector’s average labour productivity is lower than Bangladesh’s competitor countries except Cambodia. The sector’s compliance with the environmental and labour standards has also come under scrutiny. However, it seems by becoming too big through state support, the sector’s demand cannot be ignored.

The cosy relationship between the RMG sector leaders and the fallen kleptocratic regime is well-known. The regime allowed them to flourish through loan defaults and state subsidies and in return the business leaders were cheering on the fascist regime hoping to see its continuation. Understandably, they were fearful that they might not enjoy the same crony relationship with the Interim Government led by Nobel Laureate Professor Muhammad Yunus; thus, they cried foul and campaigned for a postponement of LDC graduation.

LDC graduation as structural transformation

The Interim Government accepted the White Paper’s recommendation and viewed the LDC graduation momentum as an opportunity to accelerate structural transformation of the economy. Despite bureaucratic inertia, it did succeed in improving business environment, such as significant reductions in times to obtain business licenses/certificates/permits, simplifications of customs procedures and fast-tracked implementation of national logistic and national tariff policies. It also identified the bottlenecks for potential sectors, such as pharmaceuticals, leather & footwear, electronics, light engineering and fishing & agro-based industries and took measures to remove or ease them.

No doubt a lot still needs to be done as part of an ongoing process of reform and policy adjustment. But that cannot be used as a justification to request a delay on the basis that the preparation is inadequate, particularly when Bangladesh’s macroeconomic performance is far better than the most LDCs, including Nepal and Lao People’s Democratic Republic (Lao PDR), the two countries scheduled to graduate along with Bangladesh.

Thanks to the macroeconomic management of the Interim Government which succeeded in preventing a total collapse of the economy; it restored discipline in the financial and banking sector, rebuilt the country’s foreign exchange reserves, stabilized the exchange rate and earned the confidence of international financial leaders to re-open trade financing and maintain foreign investment inflows. It earned the diaspora community’s confidence resulting in increased remittances. The Interim Government concluded Economic Partnership Agreement (EPA) with Japan in record time, ensuring duty-free market access for 99.9% of its products. It also initiated EPA talks with other major trade partners, including the EU.

Graduation delay: Bad signal for LDCs and win for vested interest

The UN-DESA uses three criteria for LDCs – GNI per capita, human asset index (HAI) and economic vulnerability index (EVI). Its evaluation in February 2025 shows that Bangladesh is in a much better position than Nepal and Lao PDR in terms of GNI per capita and EVI. Bangladesh with higher GNI per capita is economically less vulnerable than Nepal and Lao PDR, both of which suffer from additional disadvantages of landlockedness.

Bangladesh’s economy is projected to grow at a faster rate (around 5.0%–5.1% in FY 2005-26 and 5.7% in FY 2026-27 according to the ADB) than both Nepal and Lao PDR despite slightly elevated inflation rates. Bangladesh also performs better in logistics, ranked 88th out of 139 countries by the World Bank compared to Nepal’s rank of 114th and Lao PDR’s 115th. Bangladesh also has better productive capacity according to the UNCTAD’s productive capacity index.

Bangladesh will continue to enjoy DFQF market access for three more years after its graduation as endorsed by the WTO. Australia and Canada indicated extended periods of DFQF access until at least 2034. The UK will allow 92% Bangladesh products duty-free access after 2029. Therefore, a delay for a better performing Bangladesh will be a bad signal for the LDCs aspiring to graduate from LDC status.

It will also mean a win for the vested interest groups and stalling of the momentum towards accelerated structural transformation. The state capture by the RMG sector has already become clear; a highly professional and successful central bank governor has been replaced with a failed (loan defaulter) garment sector businessperson with no background in banking or international macroeconomics. The Transparency International Bangladesh views “such a decision risks turning the central bank once again into an instrument of business lobbies dependent on defaulted loans and political connections, rather than safeguarding national interest, as was the case during the authoritarian kleptocratic regime”.

Bangladesh will be better off spending its diplomatic efforts to secure GSP+ facilities in the EU and EPA with its trading partners instead of lobbying for a LDC graduation delay. It should worry more about EU’s new, stricter and mandatory Environmental, Social, and Governance (ESG) regulations. Whereas ESG failure may cost Bangladesh 30% of EU exports, strict compliance can function as powerful catalysts for production upgrading and accelerating structural transformation while achieve sustainable development goals (SDGs).

Anis Chowdhury, Emeritus Professor, Western Sydney University (Australia). He held senior UN positions in Bangkok and New York and served as Special Assistant to the Chief Advisor for Finance (with the status and rank of State Minister) in the Professor Yunus-led Interim Government. E-mail: anis.z.chowdhury@gmail.com

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Workers in Kiribati were building sea walls to protect against rising sea levels from climate change. Credit: UNFPA/Carly Learson

By Andie Fong Toy, Nobuko Kajiura and Peter Emberson
BANGKOK, Thailand, Apr 7 2026 (IPS)

Rising seas, intensifying storms, saltwater intrusion and shifting coastlines are the lived realities of Pacific communities today. Families are making difficult decisions about whether to stay, adapt or move. Some communities have already relocated. Others are preparing for that possibility. Many are determined to stay for as long as possible on lands that hold ancestral meaning and identity.

Climate mobility is not simply a policy category. It is about people, culture, dignity and the future of Pacific societies. With the endorsement of the Pacific Regional Framework on Climate Mobility in 2023, Pacific leaders articulated a collective approach grounded in human rights, community leadership and regional solidarity.

But frameworks alone do not move communities to safer ground. Implementation does.

A Pacific vision anchored in community

At the heart of the Framework is a simple but powerful principle: Climate mobility must be guided by the voices and priorities of Pacific communities themselves. This is not abstract diplomacy. It reflects lived experience, where communities are asking how to preserve identity, protect livelihoods and ensure that mobility, if necessary, occurs with dignity rather than desperation.

The Framework seeks to ensure that these decisions are not forced by crisis, but shaped through planning, consultation and collective responsibility. Mobility has long histories through voyaging and internal migration in the Pacific, but climate change introduces new pressures requiring coordinated governance.

Stories from community representatives who have already experienced planned relocation show that this is not merely a technical exercise. It is a human process touching identity, belonging, spirituality and intergenerational memory.

A deeply personal story shared by people forced to leave their village during a period of social conflict in Fiji’s colonial past is a reminder that movement has long been part of human history. What matters is whether that movement occurs with dignity, opportunity and support, or under conditions of hardship and loss.

Climate mobility policy, when relocation becomes necessary, should open pathways to resilience rather than trauma.

A regional responsibility

Communities across the Pacific face similar challenges, yet each context is unique. Regional cooperation allows sharing lessons, strengthening capacities and solidarity expressed in practical ways.

But collaboration must also be genuine.

The Pacific has long benefited from strong partnerships with development partners, including technical work that contributed to the development of the Framework.

Yet, a quiet caution as implementation begins. Climate mobility cannot become another item on the international development checklist.

Too often, global processes risk becoming procedural: workshops are convened, reports produced, partnerships announced, while communities remain marginal in decision-making.

This approach will not suffice. Partners must genuinely listen. Communities, relocated or contemplating relocation, carry knowledge that cannot be replicated in technical reports. Their experiences reveal the social, cultural and emotional dimensions of mobility that policy frameworks must address.

Effective climate mobility governance requires sustained cooperation across institutions and sectors, civil society practitioners and various development partners. No single agency can carry this work alone.

But coordination must be guided by humility. International partners must recognise that Pacific communities are not passive beneficiaries of policy. They are custodians of knowledge and agents of their own futures.

The global context: A critical moment

Later this year, the global climate community will gather once again for negotiations under the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change when the human dimensions of climate change are becoming increasingly visible around the world.

Yet global governance mechanisms for addressing these realities of climate-driven displacement and migration remain fragmented.

The Pacific’s approach offers important lessons.

Pacific leaders have proactively confronted the issue, acknowledging mobility as part of the climate response landscape while emphasising rights, dignity and community agency.

The Pre-COP dialogue, to be hosted by Fiji and Tuvalu, provides an opportunity to bring Pacific perspectives into the global climate negotiation process directly, reminding the international community that climate mobility is not an abstract concept.

From framework to action

The Implementation Plan for the Framework is in place. Governance mechanisms are emerging through technical working groups and partnership platforms.

Now these commitments must translate into real outcomes for communities.

This means investing in community-led planning processes, supporting governments to strengthen legal and institutional frameworks and ensuring that relocation, where necessary, is accompanied by adequate resources, land access and long-term livelihood opportunities.

It also means recognising that mobility is only one part of the broader climate resilience agenda. Many Pacific communities remain determined to stay on their lands for as long as possible, supported by adaptation measures and protective infrastructure.

Climate mobility policy must therefore operate alongside, not instead of, ambitious climate mitigation and adaptation efforts.

The ball is now in our court

The Pacific has demonstrated leadership in confronting the complex dimensions of climate change, but implementation will require sustained commitment from governments, development partners, regional organisations and communities themselves.

The ball is now in the court of all stakeholders and partners.

Engagement must be genuine. Partnerships must be meaningful. Listening must precede action.

Above all, the work must remain anchored in the aspirations and dignity of Pacific peoples.

Climate mobility is not simply about moving people. It is about safeguarding cultures, protecting rights, and ensuring that communities can navigate a changing climate with agency and hope.

Andie Fong Toy is Head of ESCAP Subregional Office for the Pacific); Nobuko Kajiura is Economic Affairs Officer, ESCAP Subregional Office for the Pacific and Peter Emberson is Consultant, ESCAP Subregional Office for the Pacific.

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Credit: Mamunur Rashid/NurPhoto via AFP

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

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

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

The uprising

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

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

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

Reforms in the balance

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

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

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

A dynasty returns

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

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

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

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

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

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

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With no path beyond sixth grade, some Afghan girls deliberately fail exams to remain in the classroom for one more year. Credit: Learning Together.

By External Source
KABUL, Mar 30 2026 (IPS)

It is almost unheard of for a student to deliberately fail final school exams for no apparent reason. Therefore, when 13-year old Sara (not her real name) from Mazar-i-Sharif in Afghanistan took her school report home to her parents, they were shocked to learn that the top-performing student had failed her final exams and would not advance to the next level. But there was no longer a next level for Sara, even if she had passed.

The Afghan calendar changes in March 2026. The year 1405 begins, and with it a new school year across the country.

For the fifth year running, girls have only been allowed to attend school up to sixth grade. After sixth grade, boys continue their studies, but girls aged 12–13 are no longer allowed to pursue further education or attend university.

As the new school year approaches, girls who have passed the sixth grade know they will not be allowed to return to the classroom. All that remains are memories of years spent at the desks and the friendships they made during their school years. For many, the end of school also marks the shipwreck of their dreams for the future.

However, some have found a pathway that is both bitter and hopeful. They leave their answer sheets blank to deliberately fail their final year exams, just to stay one more year albeit in the same class. It is the only chance to stay in a place where they can study and dream about the future.

“My sister says I’m lucky to still be in school, but I don’t feel happy. This is just a delaying battle. When this year ends, will I have to stay home and become a seamstress?”

Sara is one of those who have chosen to fail her final exams. She deliberately answered the exam questions incorrectly so that she would fail and be allowed to stay in school for another year.

Restricting girls’ education was one of the Taliban’s first orders in August 2021. In late 2022, the Taliban announced that universities would also be closed to girls and women “for the time being.” It was unclear how long the suspension would last.

Nearly four years later, “for the time being” is still in effect, and young women are still not allowed to study. They live in uncertainty and do not know what the future holds.

Sara lives in a middle-income family with her parents and five siblings. She is the fourth child.

Sara’s father works intermittently in construction, employed for a few months a year and unemployed the rest of the time. Sara’s mother is a seamstress, sewing clothes for the women in the area and contributing to the family income.

Sara’s parents have done everything they can to ensure that their children go to school. Her mother, who has never been to school herself, says:

“Sara’s father and I are both illiterate, and our greatest wish is for our children to receive an education. I work day and night as a seamstress so that my children have a better future and do not end up in the same hopeless situation as their father and me. My daughters in particular need to study, succeed, and be independent. But my eldest daughter has sadly been out of school for two years. She now works with me as a seamstress. I hope that my other two daughters and three sons will be able to complete school.”

Sara started school six years ago with enthusiasm and hope. She wipes her eyes with the edge of her scarf as she recounts her school journey with her older sister, Marwa.

“Every morning we woke up early. I carefully braided my hair, packed my books in my bag and walked to school with Marwa. It was less than half an hour to school. Classes started at eight. We used to spend four hours at school and walked back home together when school ended at noon”.

“Marwa and I talked on the way to school about how we would become doctors. But after sixth grade, my sister couldn’t go back to school. For the last two years, she has been helping our mother as a seamstress, and I don’t want that life. I want to be a doctor. That’s why I decided that I couldn’t stop schooling.”

Sara decided to rewrite her destiny, even if it was just for one year.

“To be honest, I had always tried to be the best in my class”, she continues. “So the decision to deliberately fail was incredibly difficult. But it was the only way I could stay in school. When I got my certificate after the exams and saw that I had failed some subjects, I felt both joy and sadness. I had failed, but I didn’t feel defeated. I get to study for one more year. I can still wear my black dress and white scarf and go to school”, she says.

Sara’s family was shocked when they learned she had failed her final exams. Her father stared at the report card repeatedly, as if searching for a mistake. Her mother could not believe it, as her daughter had always ranked at or near the top of her class.

“There was a silence at home that was heavier than any reprimand. I knew I had to tell them what I had done,” Sara recounts.

She pauses, then continues: “I told my parents that my failure was not an accident and that I had intentionally left some questions unanswered  or answered them incorrectly. My father was completely shocked. He could not believe I had done it on purpose. He was very and asked me why I wanted to fail.”

His anger subsided when Sara explained her reason: she wanted to go to university like her brother.

Wiping tears with her scarf once more, Sara says she feels sorry for her parents, who worked hard in order for them to live comfortably, go to school, and have a future.

“I don’t know if my decision was right or wrong. My family eventually accepted that I would go back to school, but I feel like I disappointed them anyway.”

When school starts this year, Sara will return to the sixth grade. She will carry the same books and return to a classroom where her former classmates are no longer there.

“My sister says I’m lucky to still be in school, but I don’t feel happy. This is just a delaying battle. When this year ends, will I have to stay home and become a seamstress?”

This question concerns not only Sara, but millions of Afghan girls who have been denied the right to go to school and who ask every day: when will we learn again?

Denying girls an education is not merely an educational policy. It excludes half of the country’s population from public life and deprives them of the opportunity to build their own future and that of their nation.

The consequences are far-reaching, both socially and economically. Before long, women will no longer be working in the fields of medicine, education and social services. The impact is severe, as the absence of female professionals directly affects the health and well-being of millions.

Excerpt:

The UNFPA released a report detailing how women were suffering widespread mistreatment during childbirth across Eastern Europe and Central Asia. Credit: UNFPA

By Ed Holt
BRATISLAVA, Mar 30 2026 (IPS)

Government and medical professionals must implement systematic changes to deal with a “crisis” of obstetric violence (OV) across Eastern Europe and Central Asia (EECA), experts and rights campaigners have said.

The call comes as the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA) released a report on March 12 detailing how women were suffering widescale mistreatment during childbirth across the region.

“This report is a wake-up call. All stakeholders must make sure that women’s rights are respected and protected in all facilities in the health system and beyond,” Tamar Khomasuridze, UNFPA Sexual and Reproductive Health Adviser for Eastern Europe and Central Asia, told Inter Press Service (IPS).

The report, Respectful Maternity Care: Women’s Experiences and Outlooks in Eastern Europe and Central Asia, highlighted what the UNFPA said was a “pervasive yet often hidden OV crisis that violates women’s fundamental human rights and dignity”.

The survey, which was based on online responses from over 2,600 women who gave birth recently and conducted across 16 countries and territories in the region, found that 67 percent of respondents reported at least one form of mistreatment, including non-consensual medical procedures, verbal and physical abuse, and significant breaches of privacy.

Nearly half (48.1 percent) of women underwent obstetric procedures – such as episiotomies, Caesarean sections, or the administration of oxytocin – without their informed consent.

Meanwhile, about 24 percent of surveyed women reported experiencing verbal abuse, including yelling and humiliation, and 1 in 10 endured physical or sexual abuse during labour or gynaecological examinations. For example, 12 percent of the surveyed women reported being physically restrained during labour, such as being tied to the bed or subjected to aggressive physical contact under the pretext of facilitating delivery. Just over 10 percent experienced different forms of sexual abuse, ranging from inappropriate touching to more severe forms of assault (disrespectful manipulation of the genitals).

The survey also revealed a massive lack of awareness of OV among women in the region – almost 54 percent of surveyed women said women were unfamiliar with the term “obstetric violence”. And of those that knew they were victims of OV, very few reported such incidents – only two percent of those mistreated officially reported their experience, often due to a lack of trust in accountability mechanisms or fear of retaliation.

Previous research into the extent of OV in the region is limited and experts say it is difficult to gauge whether the situation in the region has changed in recent years.

But campaigners say the report underlines that it remains a serious problem.

“Obstetric violence has always existed, but for a long time it remained invisible, normalised, and embedded within what was perceived as ‘standard medical practice’. The major shift over the past decade is not necessarily in the prevalence of the phenomenon but rather in its increased visibility at the public, legal, and institutional levels, including its inclusion on the global agenda of human rights and public health,” Alina Andronache, a gender public policy expert at the Partnership for Development Center (CPD) in Moldova, who helped author the UNFPA report, told IPS.

“The report outlines a mixed picture: recognition and visibility of the phenomenon are increasing, yet the prevalence of experiences of abuse, coercion, and lack of consent remains alarmingly high,” she added.

Rights activists say that the phenomenon is closely linked to the wider issue of prevalent attitudes to women in the region.

“The report clearly shows that obstetric violence is not merely an issue of inadequate medical practices but is deeply embedded in broader social and cultural structures—particularly gender discrimination, power imbalances between the patient and medical staff, rigid institutional hierarchies, and norms that socialise women to accept authority without questioning it, including in highly intimate and vulnerable contexts such as childbirth,” said Andronache.

She highlighted the report’s finding that 58.4 percent of respondents believe that a mother must accept any intervention for the benefit of the child, even if it may harm her, while 19.6 percent consider that doctors may take a decision without a woman’s consent to protect the child.

“These perceptions reflect a profound internalisation of the idea that women’s bodily autonomy can be suspended during childbirth in favour of a medical authority perceived as unquestionable. This internalisation has two major consequences: it legitimises abusive or coercive practices, which are no longer perceived as violations of rights but as ‘necessary’ or ‘medically justified’ interventions, and it  directly contributes to underreporting and to the difficulty of recognising obstetric violence as such. If women are socialised to believe that they do not have the right to refuse, to ask questions, or to negotiate interventions, then their experiences are not necessarily identified as abuse but rather as a ‘normal’ part of childbirth,” she explained.

The report includes a call to action that outlines critical steps to address systemic problems with OV in the EECA states. These include legislation to protect women against OV; human rights-centred training for all healthcare personnel to shift clinical attitudes and ensure dignity is maintained at the point of service, as well as implementing monitoring and other measures to ensure accountability; and strengthening education and wider awareness of OV.

The UNFPA says its call to action has been endorsed by all countries in the survey and other stakeholders and will become part of action plans on OV at the national level.

But it is unclear how easy it will be to effect meaningful change, especially in a region where some countries have very conservative social cultures and wider problems with women’s rights.

The report showed that among respondents from Central Asian countries, such as Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan, around two thirds of women were unaware of OV. The report says this is due, in part, to traditional norms surrounding women’s roles and childbirth, which may make women less open to discussions about obstetric abuse.

Khomasuridze admitted that there were “of course sensitivities in different countries” in the region but was confident that with the help of various stakeholders, including civil society organisations, women’s rights groups and patient groups, changes would be implemented.

Andronache said that in countries where strongly conservative political policies and societal attitudes are prevalent, it was crucial that “the message be adapted to the context”.

“In more conservative societies, the approach should not be perceived as confrontational or ideological but rather framed as an issue of safety, dignity, and quality of care for both mother and child. Emphasising health, respect, and communication may be more readily accepted than a discourse focused exclusively on rights,” she said.

She added that it was essential that women be made aware of OV during their engagement with healthcare professionals – prenatal courses should be accessible and include, alongside medical information, clear explanations about women’s rights, informed consent, and what respectful care entails. ‘Meanwhile, information must reach those who need it most, she said — particularly in rural areas and in communities with more limited access to education.

“This requires simple messages, delivered in accessible languages and through channels that women already trust, including healthcare providers, community leaders, or other women sharing their experiences,” Andronache said.

“Awareness is built not only through the dissemination of information, but also through the creation of a space in which women feel able to ask questions, understand what is happening to them, and recognise when their rights are not being respected,” she added.

However, even in places where there is more awareness, serious problems with OV remain.

The study found that awareness of OV is higher in Eastern European countries, in part because advocacy initiatives regarding women’s rights during childbirth have contributed to increased visibility of the issue. Yet OV is widespread in some of these states.

In the survey the highest dissatisfaction rates with their childbirth experience were recorded among respondents from the Western Balkans (Albania, Serbia and Kosovo).

In 2022, a study by lawyers in Serbia found that women in the country are regularly subjected to various forms of violence at maternity clinics and hospitals, including not just verbal abuse and humiliation at the hands of staff, but violent physical examinations and invasive procedures without consent.

In January 2024, Marica Mihajlovic, a Roma woman, claimed that during labour her doctor jumped on her stomach, slapped her and racially abused her. Her baby died soon after birth.

A 2023 report on OV in Moldova included testimony from scores of OV victims, some of whom were left with serious physical and mental health issues afterwards.

As well as having to deal with the physical and mental damage of their experiences, victims of OV in the region also often face significant barriers to any redress for their suffering.

“Women who are aware of obstetric violence and would like to take action encounter, in reality, a form of distance—not only physical, but also emotional and institutional. In theory, reporting mechanisms should be ‘within reach’: easy to understand, accessible, and safe. In practice, in many countries this distance is far too great,” explained Andronache.

She said many women who want to report OV struggle with difficult and bureaucratic systems for doing so. Many are also put off by feelings that reporting what happened to them will not change anything or, worse, “that they would be placed in a position of having to prove their suffering, of being questioned, or even invalidated”.

“In the absence of clear and credible accountability mechanisms, reporting is not perceived as a solution, but as a long, uncertain, and emotionally draining process,” Andronache said.

Some also find that after a difficult or traumatic experience, they simply do not have the emotional resources to engage in a formal process. “They seek calm, recovery, and the ability to care for their child. The question ‘is it worth going through this?’ becomes very real,” said Andronache.

While the report identifies the scale of the OV crisis in the region and changes needed to reverse, or at least lessen it, fundamental improvement is not expected to come overnight, regardless of how enthusiastically governments embrace the UNFPA’s recommendations.

“Some changes can be implemented relatively quickly—for example, establishing clear and accessible reporting mechanisms, informing women, introducing more transparent procedures, or providing basic training for medical staff. These depend largely on political will and organisational capacity and can be achieved within a relatively short timeframe.

“However, the more difficult aspect is the transformation of mindsets—both within the medical system and in society at large. A deeper transformation to a system in which women feel safe to speak out and which responds with accountability and respect is a long-term process that may take a decade or more. At its core, this is a cultural shift, not merely a regulatory one,” said Andronache.

Khomasuridze agreed.

“We and our partners have a long way to go. Progress depends on action at the national level and we are very well positioned in [EECA] countries to accelerate progress, working with government, professional societies, civil societies, women’s groups, and patients’ groups to make sure that this transformative agenda is implemented,” she said.

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Credit: Sanjit Pariyar/NurPhoto via AFP

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Mar 25 2026 (IPS)

Less than six months after Nepal’s Generation Z rose up in protest, the country has a new prime minister. A 35-year-old former rapper who soundtracked the protests swept to power in a landslide in the 5 March election.

Balendra Shah defeated former prime minister KP Sharma Oli, whose third stint as prime minister was cut short by the protests, beating him in his own turf. After years of fragile coalition governments, in which Sharma Oli and two other men of advancing age repeatedly swapped the role of prime minister, Nepal has chosen to change direction.

Gen Z-led protests

The September 2025 protests were triggered by the government’s banning of 26 social media platforms in an evident response to the ‘nepokids’ trend, in which people used social media to satirise the ostentatiously wealthy lifestyles of politicians’ family members, while most young people experienced daily economic struggles amid high inflation and youth unemployment. In a country where the median age is just 25, the ban was the final straw, activating long-simmering anger about corruption, poor public services and a political system that refused to listen to young people.

When young people took to the streets, the state unleashed violence. The deadliest day was 8 September, when some protesters broke into the parliamentary complex and police fired live military-grade ammunition, shooting many victims in the head. Nineteen people died that day, and overall at least 76 people died in the protests.

Rather than silence the protests, the state’s lethal crackdown swelled them, making clear this was about more than the social media ban; it was a struggle for Nepal’s future. Even more people took to the streets. On 9 September, Sharma Oli resigned. Some protesters turned to violence, while the army took over security and imposed a nationwide curfew. But events soon took a decisive turn. Chief Justice Sushila Karki was sworn in as interim prime minister on 12 September, kickstarting a process that led to the election. The interim government agreed to establish a Gen Z Council, a formal body designed to bridge the gap between the government and young people and enable them to hold it accountable and monitor implementation of reforms.

As the latest State of Civil Society Report sets out, Nepal’s movement inspired many of the year’s other Gen Z-led mobilisations. Nepali activists used the gaming platform Discord, including for a radical exercise in democracy that saw 10,000 people take part in online discussions that put forward Karki as interim prime minister. Morocco’s protesters also used Discord to coordinate their actions, while the Gen Z movement in Madagascar, where the army ultimately forced the government to quit, connected with Nepal’s Discord communities to learn from their organising. Movements in several countries adopted Nepal’s protest symbol, the skull-and-straw-hat flag from the One Piece manga, identifying themselves as part of the same global movement.

Around the world, Gen Z-led protests have commonly faced violent state repression but have forced real concessions: Bulgaria’s government quit, while politicians dropped unpopular policies in Indonesia and Timor-Leste. In Bangladesh, where a Gen Z-led protest movement ousted an authoritarian government in 2024, the country recently held its first credible election in almost two decades.

Time for change

The new energy unleashed by Nepal’s Gen Z-led protests was reflected in the registration of over 800,000 new voters, more parties standing than ever before, a profusion of younger candidates and an election campaign focused on corruption and good governance.

The result was a shock. Coalition governments are the norm in Nepal, but the centrist Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) won an outright majority, taking 182 of 275 House of Representatives seats after a campaign that made intensive use of social media. The three established parties all sustained heavy losses.

Shah used his music to attack corruption and inequality, resonating with the Gen Z movement during the protests, when one of his songs was viewed over 10 million times on YouTube. But he isn’t a completely new political figure, having become mayor of the capital, Kathmandu, in a surprise result when he ran as an independent in 2022. His track record there suggests grounds for concern. He’s rarely made himself available for media questioning, preferring to communicate directly via social media, where he’s known for making controversial outbursts. He also received criticism for deploying police against street vendors and launching ‘demolition drives’ to clear illegally built structures with minimal notice, leading to clashes between police and locals.

Shah now has a mandate to deliver change, and expectations are high. But he faces the challenge of reforming a typically resistant bureaucracy while delivering on his economic promises amid difficult global conditions worsened by the Israeli-US war on Iran, which threatens the remittances sent by the many Nepali workers based in Gulf countries, which constitute one quarter of the country’s GDP. He’ll need to navigate the difficult foreign policy balance between Nepal’s two powerful and often antagonistic neighbours, China and India. The new government must also ensure accountability for human rights violations during the 2025 protests, starting with releasing the report of a commission set up to investigate protest deaths, which hasn’t yet been made public.

The obvious danger, given these challenges and an outsized mandate, is that the government will adopt a heavy-handed approach, pushing through change while failing to listen. This is precisely when civil society is needed, to step in to hold the new government to account and ensure it respects human rights, including the right to keep expressing dissent.

Nepal’s Gen Z movement must guard against co-option by the new administration. The new government must acknowledge the vital role of Nepal’s outspoken young generation by moving quickly to form and resource the Gen Z Council and fully respecting its autonomy. The movement that helped bring Shah to power must stay engaged.

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

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

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

Anusha Khanal

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

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

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

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

How did civil society organisations engage with the movement?

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

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

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

How have election candidates addressed the movement’s demands?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What obstacles stand in the way of reform?

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

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

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

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

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

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The Sindh government has started distributing solar home systems to 200,000 low-income households under the Sindh Solar Energy Project to improve electricity access. Credit: Sindh People’s Housing for Flood Affectees

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Pakistan, Mar 20 2026 (IPS)

Energy expert Vaqar Zakaria believes solar power makes “excellent economic sense” – and he lives by it. For over five years, his rooftop panels have slashed his bills, sometimes to zero, even allowing him to sell surplus electricity back through net metering.

Last month, he took it further. After buying two electric vehicles, he has almost “declared independence” from the national grid. With more panels and doubled batteries, even his cars run on sunshine. “I am moving away from their fuel, and I don’t need their power,” said the CEO of Hagler Bailly, Pakistan, an Islamabad-based environmental consultancy firm, over the phone from Islamabad.

“I call it the hand of God driving my car,” Zakaria said.

He is already seeing economic gains from his investment. “The electricity I generate, including battery costs, comes to about Rs 12 (USD 0.043) per unit, while it can be sold to the Islamabad Electric Supply Company at around Rs 26 (USD 0.092) per unit.” However, he adds that he does not currently claim this benefit, as it requires considerable follow-up.

Doing some quick back-of-the-envelope calculations, he compared the petrol-run vehicles he used until a few months back to the EV he purchased a month ago. “The total cost of operating the EV comes to about Rs 2 (USD 0.0071) per km using power generated at home, compared to the Rs 27 (USD 0.096) per km I was paying earlier for running vehicles on the fossil fuel.”

This figure does not include the regular maintenance costs his earlier cars required—lubricating oils, oil and air filters, and brakes.

“An EV requires near-zero maintenance,” he added.

Vaqar Zakaria’s white EV charges under rooftop solar panels at his home — powered by the sun. Credit: Vaqar Zakaria

While Zakaria can afford a full shift off the grid, most households cannot.

“The solar landscape will remain unchanged unless power companies introduce profit-sharing models that turn consumers into ‘prosumers’ – both producers and users of energy – supported by microfinance to help cover upfront costs,” he said. Achieving this would require the privatisation of utilities.”

For now, with or without batteries, solar energy has become a popular alternative for many households. “What’s happening in Pakistan is quite significant, as electricity consumers’ dependence on the national grid is falling,” explained Rabia Babar, data manager at Renewables First, an Islamabad-based think-and-do tank for energy and environment.

Grid-based electricity demand, she pointed out, dropped 11 percent in FY25 compared to FY22 levels, largely because more people and businesses are switching to solar.

“During the day, far less electricity is being drawn from the grid, which means gas-fired power plants are being used much less than before.”

More than 100 young Pakistani women from across the country have been trained in and certified in solar roof installation by LADIESFUND Energy Pvt Ltd through Dawood Global Foundation’s Educate a Girl programme. They have solarised a women’s shelter, a church and an orphanage. Credit: LADIESFUND Energy (Pvt.) Ltd

The Turning Point

Haneea Isaad, an energy finance specialist at the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis, recalled the time in 2022, as the turning point when people realised they needed a cheaper alternative. “The prices of liquefied natural gas shot up after Russian forces entered Ukraine and the country faced a gas shortage, resulting in widespread power outages. Electricity prices almost tripled in just a couple of years.”

Those who could afford to, Isaad said, opted for a one-time investment in installing solar panels instead of paying for expensive and unreliable electricity.

According to EMBER,  an independent clean energy think tank, solar’s share in the energy mix has risen from 2.9 percent in 2020 to 32.3 percent by the end of 2025.

It is this quiet solar revolution that may help ride out the current energy crisis triggered by the United States-Israel war on Iran, which led to the shutting of the Strait of Hormuz, according to a report by Renewables First and the Centre for Research on Energy and Clean Air, published earlier this week.

“Pakistan’s solar revolution is quietly redrawing the country’s energy map, cutting grid dependence, reducing LNG exposure, and building a buffer against global market shocks that most of its neighbours are yet to find,” said Babar, one of the co-authors of the report.

A house in rural Gilgit with solar panels. Credit: SHAMA Solar.

In fact, the report says that Pakistan has avoided over USD 12 billion in oil and gas imports since 2020 due to its rapid solar growth – and could save another USD 6.3 billion in 2026 alone at current prices.

Lead analyst Lauri Myllyvirta, co-founder of CREA, said the solar boom has cut import bills and now acts “like an insurance policy” against oil and LNG shocks from the Gulf.

Industries are also turning to solar, significantly reducing their need for LNG significantly.

“This shift has had a direct impact on government policy. Pakistan has gone back to its LNG suppliers to renegotiate long-term contracts for the diversion of surplus cargoes to international markets, which are now oversupplied due to the sharp reduction in gas consumption,” said Babar.

Pakistan has been importing LNG since 2015, after domestic reserves declined. It has been mainly used in the power sector – accounting for nearly a quarter of Pakistan’s electricity supply – followed by the industrial sector.

Supplied from Qatar via the Strait of Hormuz, LNG has become less attractive due to high prices for industry and the growing shift to solar in homes. With some LNG landing in Pakistan before the conflict began and domestic gas filling the gap from affected cargoes, supplies may be enough to last until mid-April.

“Pakistan has historically been vulnerable to volatile global LNG prices, which strain on foreign exchange reserves when prices spike,” Babar said.

Isaad agreed. “Solar has provided a buffer. With the power sector also relying on coal imports from Indonesia and South Africa, supply pressures are unlikely to pose a problem in the near term. Seasonal hydropower and mild weather are also likely to prevent an immediate spike in LNG based power demand. For now, Pakistan has been spared – unlike Bangladesh and India, which have been hit the hardest in South Asia.”

Not Out of the Woods Yet

But the solar panels have not shielded Pakistanis from the rising oil prices. The country saw a 20 percent jump – the highest in its history – with petrol and diesel costing USD 1.15 and USD 1.20 per litre, respectively. As transport drives the economy, higher oil prices quickly pushed up fares and the cost of groceries.

In response, Zakaria said the crisis highlights a clear path forward: embrace EVs, reduce diesel dependence, and expand renewables. “Begin with two-wheelers,” he suggested, though a full EV mass transit system would be ideal for Pakistan. He added that shifting freight from trucks to rail could significantly cut fuel costs.

He said he supports the oil rationing and austerity measures taken by the government.

Last week, addressing the nation, Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif announced these measures on television.

“The entire region is currently in a state of war,” he said, outlining steps, including a four-day workweek for government employees and spring holidays for schools from March 16 to the end of the month. He also said 50 percent of government staff would work from home on a rotating basis and recommended similar arrangements for the private sector.

Higher education institutions have shifted to online classes to save fuel, as have meetings across federal and provincial governments. Fuel allowances for government offices have also been reduced.

Under the government’s austerity measures, federal and provincial cabinet members will forgo two months’ salaries and allowances, while lawmakers’ pay will be reduced by 25 percent. Ministers, parliamentarians, and officials may travel abroad only when essential — and must fly economy. Weddings will be capped at 200 guests, served with a single-dish meal.

The Human Cost

But these measures have brought little relief to Saba Nasreen’s household finances. The 52-year-old mother of two, who works as a domestic help, said, “Rising fuel prices have literally crippled us; when fuel costs go up, food prices follow. We hardly buy fruit or meat; now even milk and vegetables are beyond our range,” she said.

With Eid ul-Fitr—the Muslim festival marking the end of Ramadan—just days away, she said, “This will be the first Eid in as long as I can remember that I won’t be making sheer khurma for my daughters,” referring to the traditional sweet vermicelli dish prepared in many Muslim households across the subcontinent. “The price of a box of vermicelli has doubled this year, from Rs 150 (USD 0.53) to Rs 300 (USD 1.07),” she said, adding, “In any case, the attack on Iran has already dimmed our festivities; I’m not happy inside, my heart feels heavy.”

For many, the solar revolution offers hope — but for households like Nasreen’s, the struggle continues.

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Sudhi Kumar (51) is a fisher from Kovalam, India, who has been harpoon-fishing for over 30 years. Credit: Bharath Thampi/IPS

By Bharath Thampi
THIRUVANANTHAPURAM, India, Mar 20 2026 (IPS)

Sudhi Kumar animatedly moves his hands, resembling a graceful dance performance, as he demonstrates how a fishing harpoon is used. He has been on a brief hiatus from harpooning, owing to the recent rough nature of the sea, and doesn’t have the tool with him as we speak. But more than three decades of experience using harpoons is apparent in how vividly he uses his body to mimic the process.

Sudhi, 51, is a fisher belonging to the globally sought-after tourist beach village, Kovalam, in Thiruvananthapuram – the southernmost district of Kerala, India. Sudhi has a unique distinction among the fishing communities of Thiruvananthapuram, which has a significant coastal population. He was the first one among the natives to learn and employ the method of ‘harpoon fishing’. Moreover, Sudhi belongs to a minuscule section of fishers in the whole of Kerala itself, who practise this uncommon, albeit highly sustainable and ecologically friendly, method of fishing.

“Harpooning and spear fishing may look very similar to an outsider but are vastly different,” Sudhi says. “Our ancestors have been known to have used spears built of tough wood or other materials. But a harpoon was a totally foreign object to the fishers here.”

Kovalam was a thriving beach tourism spot by the 1990s. Sudhi, barely out of his teens but an expert swimmer and diver by then, used to accompany his father for fishing, as well as act as a snorkelling guide for foreign tourists.

“One time, a Frenchman came to me with a harpoon, and he told me he needed my help in fishing with it in the sea. I was seeing the equipment for the first time in my life,” Sudhi recollects the event from nearly 35 years ago.

After the man was done fishing, Sudhi requested him to let him try the harpoon once. The foreigner was quite impressed by Sudhi’s deep-sea skills and handling of the harpoon despite being a debutant. Sudhi even caught a large Vela Paara (Silver Mooney fish) that day.

“Before he left Kovalam, he handed me the harpoon as a gift, to my pleasant surprise. I was so thrilled – I was the only one here who owned it,” says Sudhi.

Sudhi Kumar catching fish using harpooning. Credit: PC || FML/Robert Panipilla

He started harpooning quite frequently since then, an amusing sight for the other fishers in Kovalam. “I also realised that I could earn a lot more through harpooning than accompanying my father in his boat.”

But Sudhi was also aware that a harpoon was still a rare commodity to procure, not just in Kerala, but across the country, at the time. For one, it was costly, and most fishers couldn’t afford it. He held himself back from using it on significantly large fish because he was afraid of damaging or losing the harpoon.

Dr Shobha Joe Kizhakudan, head of the Finfish Fisheries Division at ICAR-CMFRI (Central Marine Fisheries Research Institute), agrees that harpooning is considered one of the most sustainable fishing methods by scientific experts as well. But there had been a bit of stigma attached to it in earlier years, she says, because of how “cruel” the method of killing could be.

“For example, harpooning was once a main technique used to catch whale sharks and other shark species, before the ban came into effect. Once harpooned, the fish would be dragged alive, fighting for its life, until the shore,” Kizhakudan says.

Sustainable Development Goal 14 (SDG 14: Life Below Water) aims to conserve oceans and sustainably use marine resources, with a core target of ending overfishing and illegal and destructive fishing practices by 2020. The way Sudhi uses it could fit with this definition.

However, Sudhi also acknowledges that he avoids shooting larger fish, which may survive a single harpoon shot, because it’s a merciless and amoral act. But he hadn’t always been so conscientious, he reminisces.

“Many years ago, as a young man, I once accompanied a tourist called Paul to the sea, who was capturing on video underwater marine habitat as well as my harpooning. Paul had been fixated on a pair of Bluefin Trevally, which clearly seemed to be doing a mating ritual. After waiting for a while, I grew impatient and killed one with a harpoon shot. Paul looked back at me with a heartbroken expression and nodded his head sadly. I felt awfully guilty. That feeling has stayed with me since.”

Harpooning is no easy feat, Sudhi points out, a key reason why there are very few practising it. For one, it’s a waiting game: you need to hold your breath and stay underwater for minutes at a time before a fish comes close enough, and you have the measure of its movements to harpoon it.

Friends of Marine Life (FML), a coastal indigenous civil society organisation based in Thiruvananthapuram, has been video-documenting the marine biodiversity of the region, especially the natural reef ecosystems, for quite some time now. Robert Panippilla, the founder of FML and a certified scuba diver, had extensively documented the harpooning method with Sudhi.

“Harpooning can only be practised in regions with rocky habitats. Hence, Kovalam is an ideal location for that,” Panippilla says. Having covered diverse fishing practices as part of his documentation, he says that harpooning is one of the most unique and toughest skills.

“Not only do they have remarkable underwater stamina and manoeuvrability, but it’s also imperative that they possess adequate geomorphological understanding of the sea and the behaviour of the fish. Just because someone comes to possess a harpoon, they may not be able to use it effectively.”

To Robert’s knowledge, barring the harpooners in Kovalam and a scattered few in Vizhinjam, there’s nowhere else in Kerala that harpooning is practised. He considers harpooning a great sustainable fishing method because it’s very selective in practice. “There’s no risk of overfishing, juvenile fish being caught alongside others, or the ecological issue of ghost nets being abandoned at the bottom of the ocean, like in net-fishing.”

Unlike the early years, when Sudhi was the only one who sported a harpoon, others have now gotten into the trade in the region. Most of them got the harpoons from abroad, particularly through those returning from the Middle East. Many of them were trained by Sudhi himself before they started doing it independently. At present, in and around Kovalam, there must be around 25 fishers engaged in harpoon fishing, he reckons. As far as Sudhi knows, harpooning is a rarity across India itself, most likely practised in islands.

The Southwest monsoon phase in Kerala, especially in the month of August, is the best time for harpoon fishing, in Sudhi’s experience. Groupers (fish) are aplenty on the Thiruvananthapuram coast, and some seasons have earned him catches worth lakhs of rupees. Rays and Barracudas are a couple of other common harpooning targets for him. Besides harpoon fishing, Sudhi frequently goes diving for mussels and cage fishing for lobsters.

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

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By Mohammad Rakibul Hasan
DHAKA, Bangladesh, Mar 20 2026 (IPS)

My Name is Dhaka is a one-minute experimental film portraying Dhaka as a living, breathing entity with a 400-year history. Through a reflective voice, the city recounts its transformations, crises, and resilience. It captures contrasts between pollution and celebration, hardship and hope, revealing a megacity shaped by climate change, migration, and human survival.

I am also one of the world’s climate hotspots. My rivers swell, my heat rises, and my air grows heavier each year. I often rank among the most polluted cities in the world.

I remember the silence of the coronavirus pandemic when my streets suddenly emptied. I remember the fear and chaos of bus bombings during the political unrest of 2013 – 14. And I remember the fall of a fascist regime in 2024.

But I am not only a city of crisis. I am a city of contrasts. I hold stories of child labor and deep social injustice, where many struggle just to survive. At the same time, I celebrate life my streets burst into color during Holi, and my people find joy even in hardship.

Credit: Mohammad Rakibul Hasan

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A number of households are settling along the bank of a river in West Java, Indonesia. Geospatial data are critical in improving the management of water resources. Credit: Pexels/Tom Fisk

By Kareff Rafisura, Orbita Roswintiarti and Huang Qi
BANGKOK, Thailand, Mar 20 2026 (IPS)

Across Asia, new initiatives are showing how satellite Earth observation data and AI-powered technologies can turn fragmented water-related data into actionable insights for managers and policymakers in line ministries and local governments.

Only about 3% of global water quality measurements (around 60,000 out of 2 million) come from the world’s poorest regions, according to the United Nations, highlighting a persistent water data gap. Even where data exist, they are often scattered across agencies, with monitoring stations sparse and datasets rarely analysed together.

Integrating satellite observations with cognitive digital technologies, including artificial intelligence, can bring these fragmented sources into a single data and analytical pipeline, turning environmental data into timely insights that strengthen water governance and accelerate progress toward SDG 6.

Guiding smarter water infrastructure investments

One example is from Cimanuk–Cisanggarung River Basin in West Java, Indonesia. Rapid urban growth, land-use change and climate variability are increasing flood risks during the rainy season and water shortages during the dry season.

Retention ponds or small reservoirs designed to capture and store excess rainwater are widely recognized as effective solutions because they can hold excess runoff during heavy rains and provide water for irrigation and communities during dry periods.

The main policy challenge, however, is optimizing investments in retention ponds: quickly identifying the best locations and making site selection more systematic and less subjective. Conventionally, planning relies heavily on field surveys and fragmented datasets, making the process slow, costly and hard to scale.

An AI-powered tool developed by Indonesia’s National Research and Innovation Agency (BRIN) and the West Java Department of Water Resources demonstrates how a single data and analytical pipeline can guide infrastructure investment decisions.

The tool combines satellite Earth observation data, including digital elevation maps, land cover maps and rainfall data, with georeferenced drainage networks and soil type information to identify locations where retention ponds can provide the most benefits for flood control and drought resilience. Socio-environmental filters exclude protected areas or sites that might cause social or legal conflicts.

To ensure the tool supports operational decision-making, the results were validated through field assessments and consultations with local stakeholders. Additionally, a mobile-based application is being developed to enable field technicians to access the outputs directly on site, improving the speed and practicality of retention pond planning.

Applying this tool shifts infrastructure planning from subjective judgment to transparent and evidence-based prioritization. Supported by capacity-building activities for local institutions, this approach enables governments to allocate resources more efficiently while enhancing the long-term resilience of water systems.

Monitoring lake ecosystems from space

While the Indonesia example shows how digital technologies can guide infrastructure investments, similar approaches are also transforming how water ecosystems are monitored and protected.

Water quality monitoring in Songkhla Lake, Thailand’s largest lagoon system and a critical resource for fisheries and aquaculture, has traditionally relied on periodic sampling at fixed stations. Expanding the coverage and frequency of monitoring data could improve early warning for ecosystem management and aquaculture.

A project, implemented by Prince of Songkla University in collaboration with local authorities, is exploring this potential on Ko Yor Island in Songkhla Lake. The initiative combines multi-source satellite remote sensing data, historical monitoring records and machine learning models to estimate key water quality parameters, such as turbidity and biochemical oxygen demand.

Satellite-based remote sensing expands the coverage and frequency of water-quality monitoring, enabling near-monthly maps rather than quarterly point measurements.

This effort draws on more than a decade of operational experience from Poyang Lake, the largest freshwater lake in China. There, Jiangxi Normal University developed a comprehensive monitoring and early warning platform integrating satellite Earth observation, drone, ground and lake-surface sources, combined with ecological data simulated by models to track the lake’s dynamic ecological security issues and overall health.

The system supports water management and the conservation of flagship species and their habitats, including migratory birds and the Yangtze finless porpoise.

From pilots to regional transformation

These pilots highlight an important trend: many of the innovative technologies needed to address water data gaps are already available. Earth observation satellite-derived data can complement ground-based observations by expanding environmental monitoring, while cognitive technologies integrate datasets into decision-ready insights.

Scaling these innovations is not only a technological challenge. As emphasized in ESCAP’s report Seizing the Opportunity: Digital Innovation for a Sustainable Future, digital innovation is a socio-technical transformation that requires the skills, institutions and partnerships to integrate technology into governance systems.

Experiences from Indonesia and Thailand illustrate how integrating satellite-derived data, geospatial analysis and artificial intelligence can simultaneously strengthen climate resilience, livelihoods and water governance. With supportive policies, stronger digital capacities and sustained regional cooperation, such approaches could be adapted and replicated in suitable contexts.

These pilots, along with exchanges of technical experience, including lessons from the Poyang Lake monitoring system, are supported through the Asia-Pacific Plan of Action on Space Applications for Sustainable Development (2018–2030).

The Asia-Pacific SDG Progress Report 2026 warns that progress across many Sustainable Development Goals remains off track, while data gaps continue to constrain effective policymaking. Strengthening water governance will depend not only on building infrastructure, but also on building the data systems and analytical capacities that guide where and how those investments are made.

Scaling proven digital innovations could therefore help turn fragmented water data into the actionable intelligence needed to accelerate progress toward SDG 6 and the broader 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development.

Kareff Rafisura is Economic Affairs Officer (Space Applications), ESCAP; Orbita Roswintiarti is Senior Scientist, BRIN; Huang Qi is Associate Research Fellow, School of Geography and Environment, Key Laboratory of Poyang Lake Wetland and Watershed Research (Ministry of Education), Jiangxi Normal University, and Director of Nanji Wetland Field Research Station, Poyang Lake

Chaoyang Fang, Distinguished Professor, School of Geography and Environment and Chief Engineer, Key Laboratory of Poyang Lake Wetland and Watershed Research (Ministry of Education) of Jiangxi Normal University, also contributed insights to this piece.

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Street scen of Herat province.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Excerpt:

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

Fergus Ryan

What AI systems is China developing?

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

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

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

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

How does China use AI for censorship and policing?

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

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

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

What are the human rights impacts?

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

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

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

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

Which groups are most affected?

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

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

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

How can activists in China protect themselves?

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

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

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

Is China exporting these technologies?

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

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

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

What should the international community do?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Iranian protesters demonstrate in the centre of Manchester. Backed by Israel, Reza Pahlavi, the son of the king overthrown in Iran in 1979, has become the most visible face of the fragmented Iranian opposition. Credit: Karlos Zurutuza/IPS

By Karlos Zurutuza
MANCHESTER, United Kingdom, Mar 17 2026 (IPS)

Iranian and Israeli flags fill the centre of Manchester, in northern England. There are also portraits of a king overthrown almost half a century ago and of his son, now a claimant to the throne from exile. It is yet another march of Iranians calling for Reza Pahlavi as an alternative to the regime of the ayatollahs.

“The regime will not last much longer and Reza Pahlavi is the only one who can steer a transition and keep the country united,” Nazanin, a young woman who prefers not to give her full name or be photographed for fear of reprisals against her family in Iran, tells IPS.

The regime will die killing; then we will face a Libyan-style scenario in which everyone tries to extend as much control as possible over the territory. Civil war will be inevitable - Mehrab Sarjov
In fact, she does not know them either. Born in England, she has never visited the country her parents fled in 1982. It was three years after a revolution hijacked by clerics brought an end to almost four decades of an autocracy backed by the West.

Since then, Iran has been ruled by a Shiite Islamic theocracy that harshly punishes dissent. At the beginning of January, a wave of repression left a death toll that varies widely: about 3,000 according to government sources, but tens of thousands according to internal reports cited by doctors and journalists.

From the centre of Manchester, Nazanin says she has placed all her hopes in the bombing campaign launched by Israel and the United States against Iran on February 28.

So far, the bombs have claimed the lives of more than a thousand Iranians, including the Supreme Leader, Ali Khamenei. The fact that his son is taking over the role reflects the regime’s determination to resist. Military targets and key infrastructure on which a population of more than 90 million people depends have also been struck.

“The clerics have always responded to peaceful protests and legitimate demands with violence. It is sad, but there is probably no other way to end the regime,” the young woman says.

Remains of a bombed residence in Tehran, allegedly belonging to a nuclear scientist. The joint bombing campaign by Washington and Tel Aviv has resulted in over a thousand deaths, the vast majority of them civilians. Credit: Mirza Reza/IPS

Fragmentation

In a report published on February 24 titled “Tsunami of arbitrary arrests and enforced disappearances,” Human Rights Watch denounced tens of thousands of arrests following what it described as massacres across the country on January 8 and 9.

Opposition to the clerical regime has in fact been growing for almost a decade. In 2017 and 2019, massive protests erupted over the country’s precarious economic situation, eventually turning into calls for the government’s downfall.

Between 2022 and 2023, the Woman, Life, Freedom movement shook the country for months after the killing of a young Kurdish woman by security forces for not wearing the Islamic veil.

Although portraits of Reza Pahlavi have become a recurring feature of protests both inside and outside Iran, fragmentation remains the word that best describes the Iranian opposition.

Monarchists, republicans, federalists and reformists all share a common enemy, yet they have been unable to coordinate among themselves.

“Yemen is a hero,” reads this mural in central Tehran. Despite the ongoing conflict in the Strait of Hormuz, Iran has yet to activate its Houthi allies. Credit: Mirza Reza/IPS

“There are several self-proclaimed leaders in exile, but they have no real roots in the country. Pahlavi is Israel’s preferred option, and it is true that he has attracted some well-known reformists who have abandoned the regime, but it is not enough,” Mehrab Sarjov, an analyst originally from Iran’s Baluch southeast, tells IPS from his residence in London.

Sarjov also points to the People’s Mojahedin Organization of Iran (MEK), an organization founded in 1965 that helped bring down Mohammad Reza Pahlavi in 1979.

“They are highly organized inside the country, run intelligence networks and have the capacity to carry out sabotage operations, but Washington and Tel Aviv appear to have ruled them out,” the analyst says.

The situation is far more complex. Although the Persian majority makes up roughly half the population, Iran is a mosaic of peoples that includes Azerbaijani Turks, Kurds, Baloch and Arabs, among other ethnic groups.

Sarjov points to what he calls the “diversity of the periphery versus the Persian centre,” noting that many advocate decentralization toward a kind of federal model. Neither the ayatollahs, nor Pahlavi, nor the MEK, nor most of the Persian political core are willing to consider such an option.

How would the borders of those new federal entities be drawn? Along ethnic lines, historical ones or geographic ones? The lack of consensus leads the analyst to outline a scenario in which violence drags on over time.

“The regime will die killing; then we will face a Libyan-style scenario in which everyone tries to extend as much control as possible over the territory. Civil war will be inevitable.”

A daily scene in Iranshar, in southeastern Baluchistan, Iran. Sistan and Baluchestan is the most underdeveloped province, as well as the most affected by violence in the entire country. Credit: Karlos Zurutuza/IPS

Uncertainty

At the moment, Washington and Tel Aviv seem focused on the short term, with their strategy revolving around toppling the regime through a bombing campaign. Analysts worldwide have noted that this approach has never succeeded in achieving such a goal.

The US-Israeli offensive is now concentrating on clearing the Strait of Hormuz to restore the flow of oil from the Arabian Peninsula. Washington is keen to mitigate the impact on energy prices caused by the conflict in this crucial oil transit route.

American outlets such as CNN and The New York Times have reported that the CIA may be working to arm Kurdish guerrillas with a view to taking part in a possible ground offensive.

Recently formed amid growing instability in the country, the Coalition of Political Forces of Iranian Kurdistan brings together five clandestine political parties with military capabilities.

So far, they have not explicitly endorsed Washington’s alleged plan. However, they have reiterated their goal of overthrowing the regime and fighting for democratic rights that include the right to self-determination.

They have also expressed willingness to cooperate with other actors inside the country, including Azerbaijani Turks, with whom they maintain historical territorial disputes in places such as Urmia and Tabriz, in the northwest of Iran.

Dünya Başol is a researcher who holds a PhD in Middle Eastern Studies from Bar-Ilan University in Israel with a dissertation on Iran’s Kurds. He admits he finds it difficult to feel optimistic.

“Turkish nationalism in Iran feeds not only on the aggression of Persian nationalism but also on ethnic ties with neighbouring Azerbaijan and Turkey, as well as on the complex Kurdish-Turkish dynamics in Iraq’s Kurdistan Region,” the Turkish analyst tells IPS by phone from Ankara.

“Both Azerbaijani Turks and Kurds are beginning to draw their internal borders in maximalist terms, so all those calls for dialogue and coexistence will not prevent conflict from erupting between them,” he adds.

Başol warns that ethnic conflict could spread across the rest of the country and recalls that it already flared up after the revolution that brought the clerics to power in 1979. That episode, he says, was only contained by the war with Iraq between 1980 and 1988.

“There will be ethnic borders within the country, but what will happen in the large cities where the population is mixed?” the expert asks.

He points to an “unpredictable scenario.”

“If the regime collapses, only a strong government in Tehran will be able to avoid chaos. For now, nothing suggests that either Pahlavi or any of the other options will be capable of achieving that.”

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

By Ed Holt
BRATISLAVA, Mar 17 2026 (IPS)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*Identity protected for their safety.
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A woman looking at the flooding and landslides in Panauti Muncipality of central Nepal in October 2024. Housing resilience is essential in preventing urban loss and saving lives. Credit: UNICEF/ Rabik Upadhayay

By Sanjeevani Singh and Enid Madarcos
BANGKOK, Thailand, Mar 16 2026 (IPS)

Access to adequate housing is a foundation of resilient cities. Safe and affordable homes provide stability, allow residents to access essential services, and enhance the capacity for communities to withstand and recover from shocks. Yet housing is often treated as a downstream outcome of urban development or disaster recovery rather than as a strategic investment in resilience.

The Asia and the Pacific SDG Progress Report 2026 delivers a stark warning. The region is not on track to achieve the Sustainable Development Goals, and 88 per cent of measurable targets are projected to be missed by 2030 at the current pace. Progress across SDG 11 indicators reflects mixed trends. While some indicators show improvement, disaster losses and infrastructure damage continue to rise.

This widening gap between policy commitments and real-world outcomes exposes a growing resilience deficit in urban systems. Accelerating progress on SDG Target 11.1, which calls for access to adequate, safe and affordable housing and the upgrading of informal settlements, will be critical to reducing urban vulnerability across Asia and the Pacific.

Regional dialogue increasingly reflects this shift toward translating policy commitments into concrete action that reduces urban vulnerability. Discussions at the 13th Asia-Pacific Forum on Sustainable Development in 2026 and statements at the eighty-first session of the Economic and Social Commission for Asia and the Pacific, held under the theme resilient and sustainable urban development for regional cooperation, highlighted housing affordability, informal settlements and climate-resilient housing as growing policy priorities requiring stronger action at the city level.

Across Asia and the Pacific, around 700 million people, nearly one-third of the region’s urban population, live in informal settlements – many located in hazard-prone areas exposed to flooding, extreme heat, landslides and sea-level rise.

Urban informality reflects deeper structural weaknesses in urban systems, such as gaps in land governance, planning frameworks and service delivery, concentrating climate risks in the same neighbourhoods where housing conditions are most fragile.

Urban vulnerability is shaped by the way cities are built and governed. Unplanned development, weak land-use systems and inadequate housing expose millions of urban residents to climate hazards and disaster risks. In informal settlements, these risks intensify through substandard construction, overcrowding, and limited access to water and sanitation.

Climate change further amplifies these vulnerabilities as flooding, extreme heat, water insecurity, land subsidence and air pollution interact through fragile urban systems.

Evidence also shows that improving housing conditions generates broad development gains. Habitat for Humanity’s research indicates that large-scale upgrading of informal settlements could raise GDP per capita by up to 10 per cent and increase life expectancy by four percent.

Within just one year, housing improvements could prevent more than 20 million illnesses, avert nearly 43 million incidents of gender-based violence, and avoid around 80,000 deaths. These findings highlight that expanding affordable housing and upgrading informal settlements are critical investments in climate adaptation, public health and inclusive development.

A shared but differentiated responsibility

To realign SDG trajectories and move the region closer to a resilient urban future, housing must be understood as a core component of the urban system. Achieving this requires coordinated action across governments, the private sector and civil society.

Governments: From pilot projects to systemic guarantees

Governments must anchor climate-resilient and adequate housing as a national priority, embedding secure tenure, resilient housing and informal settlement upgrading within urban development, climate adaptation and disaster risk reduction strategies. Regulatory frameworks should enable participatory and in-situ upgrading and community-led tenure solutions that allow residents to invest in climate-resilient housing improvements.

Private sector: From speculative value to resilient value

The private sector can help scale resilient housing solutions by mobilizing blended finance that combines guarantees, concessional capital and private investment. These mechanisms can support incremental home improvements, affordable rental supply and climate-resilient retrofits. Companies can also prioritize locally sourced, low-carbon materials and passive design solutions such as cool roofs, insulation and cross-ventilation suited to tropical cities.

Civil society and academia: From isolated initiatives to knowledge-powered coalitions

Civil society and academic institutions play an essential role in co-producing evidence and solutions with communities. This includes exploring nature-based approaches in informal settlements and ensuring policies reflect lived realities on the ground. They also help hold institutions accountable to SDG 11 and climate justice by tracking progress on Target 11.1 and ensuring policies and investments prioritize the most vulnerable.

Housing will shape the region’s urban resilience

The future of urban resilience in Asia and the Pacific will largely be determined in its informal neighbourhoods. If current trends continue, millions more families will be pushed into precarious and hazard-exposed housing. Aligning housing policy with climate adaptation, disaster risk reduction and inclusive urban governance therefore offers one of the most powerful pathways to accelerate SDG 11 and strengthen resilience across the region.

Sanjeevani Singh is Economic Affairs Officer, ESCAP; Enid Madarcos is Associate Director for Urban, Land and Policy, Habitat for Humanity International (Asia-Pacific)

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A street scene in Kabul.

By External Source
KABUL, Mar 12 2026 (IPS)

In the bone-chilling Afghanistan winter, a woman was dragged into a public square early this year and publicly lashed for a crime she may or not have committed. According to the ruling handed by the Taliban Supreme Court, the woman and the male culprit who was jointly accused of extra-marital affair received 30 lashes each and a one-year suspended prison sentence. The sentence was carried out in the presence of several local officials and residents in a province whose name is left out to protect the victim.

For Roya, (not her real name), a woman whose life has already been scarred by years of psychological and emotional distress, 30 blows of lashes in corporeal punishment amounts to an extra dose of salt into her wound. She lost her husband six years ago, in a traffic accident, leaving her to raise five children as a single mother.

Faced with crushing poverty Roya has worked as a farm laborer on other people’s land, but with the onset of the winter and agricultural work drying up, she migrated to the city where she cleaned houses, washed clothes and hand-stitched embroidered men’s collars under the dim light of a lamp at night. Naqeeba (also not her real name), a neighbor who has known Roya for years, speaks approvingly of her great sense of dignity. The money she earned through this work was little, but Roya never asked anyone for help, says Naqueeba.

She tried to cover the costs of living in whatever way she could and it was the constant need to create job-seeking opportunities by frequent daily travels, which rather became labeled as improper marital relations, bringing on her punishment rather than reward.

“She became a victim of circumstances, not a criminal,” Naqeeba, says, adding, “the charge was false.”

According to Naqeeba, Roya didn’t even get a chance to defend herself. She was on her way home and nearby her own house when she was seized “like a dangerous criminal,” thrown into a vehicle, and taken away without anyone knowing where she was taken to or what she had been accused of.

A Charge She Did Not Deserve

“This was not a simple blow. It was a strike that, as long as she lives, she will never be able to hold her head high again in this neighborhood”, Naqueeba explains further with her voice filled with anger and sorrow. She pauses and continues: “For a week, no one knew whether she was alive or what had happened to her until news of her public flogging emerged”.

The repeated public corporal punishments, especially against women, have not only instilled fear in society but also raised serious questions about justice, human dignity, and the status of women in today’s Afghanistan.

Roya’s story is not just the story of one individual; it reflects the suffering of thousands of women who live in silence under the weight of poverty, loneliness, and restrictions, and who are punished simply for being women. The day she was flogged marked the fourth public corporal punishment of women in that province in less than two months, during December and January a trend that has fueled waves of fear, anxiety, and silence, particularly among women in the region.

According to a report by Hasht e Subh Daily Media, in 2025, the Taliban publicly flogged 225 people in Kabul alone. This means that people were flogged at least every other day in the capital. Several other provinces carried out dozens of public floggings each.

The report reveals that confessions were often extracted under pressure. The accused were denied legal assistance and a fair trial. The Taliban rely on corporal punishment and public displays of force, which violate human rights and cause severe social and psychological consequences for the victims.

The Taliban abolished the Attorney General’s Office and shut down the Independent Bar Association of Afghanistan in November 2021, thus effectively blocking the path to legal defense.

In 2025, Richard Bennett, the UN Special Rapporteur along with other UN experts, on the situation of human rights in Afghanistan, consistently condemned the Taliban’s increased use of public flogging and other forms of corporal punishment, describing them as “inhuman and cruel”. Throughout the year, he highlighted the alarming rise in these practices, noting that they often occur without due process or fair trial standards.

“The Taliban must immediately end the death penalty and all corporal punishment that amounts to torture or other cruel and inhuman treatment, and respect the rights and dignity of all detainees,” Bennett and other experts stressed.

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An old rusty tsunami warning sign in Bali Indonesia. After the tsunami, countries in Asia have improved their early warning system and signs to save lives. Credit: Unsplash/Bernard Hermant

By Temily Baker and Sofia Bilmes
BANGKOK, Thailand, Mar 11 2026 (IPS)

On 11 March 2011, the powerful 9.0 magnitude Tōhoku earthquake struck off the northeastern coast of Japan, triggering a 40-meter Tsunami. Many coastal towns along Japan’s Pacific coast were devastated. Approximately 20,000 people lost their lives and around 470,000 were evacuated from their homes.

Beyond the immense human tragedy, the estimated economic losses ranged between US$154 billion to US$235 billion with severely damaged critical infrastructure, including transportation, energy systems, water supply and communications networks. The cascading impacts led to the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant accident, which intensified both hardship and environmental challenges.

Despite the devastation, the world witnessed extraordinary resilience

15 years later, we continue to honour those lost and the communities that were forever changed. Families rebuilt their homes, local governments restored services and the country prioritized recovery and disaster prevention. These experiences taught important lessons that have influenced global approaches to disaster risk reduction:

1. Early warning must be paired with community preparedness.
Japan’s rapid early warning alerts in 2011 gave people precious seconds and minutes to act. What truly saved lives, however, was the country’s deeply rooted Bōsai Bunka – a culture of preparedness built on regular drills, community networks and shared responsibility. The event also showed that preparedness cannot remain static; systems, training and risk assumptions must continually evolve as science advances and hazards intensify.

2. Recovery should build long-term resilience, not just restore what was lost.
The scale of destruction forced communities and policymakers to rethink land use, coastal defenses, urban planning and future-oriented disaster response and recovery strategies. The idea of “Build Back Better” became a key part of rebuilding after the disaster. Reconstruction became an opportunity to reduce exposure, strengthen protective infrastructure, and re design communities with resilience at their core.

3. Disaster risks cross borders and so must our solutions.
Tsunami waves travel across oceans and supply chains which link economies around the world. Furthermore, climate change does not know boundaries. The Tōhoku disaster underscored that no country can face such risks alone. Now 61 years in operation, the Pacific Tsunami Warning System represents multilateral early warning system in the world (see Figure 1). International cooperation, shared data and coordinated preparedness are essential to reducing global disaster risk.

Source: International Tsunami Information Center (ITIC)

Together, these lessons highlight Japan as a global leader in tsunami preparedness and multi hazard risk management, strengthened by its longstanding commitment to sharing knowledge worldwide.

Scaling Japan’s preparedness culture globally

The lessons of Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami played a significant role in shaping the Sendai Framework for Disaster Risk Reduction 2015-2030, later reinforced in Asia and the Pacific through ESCAP Resolution 71/12 on strengthening regional mechanisms for its implementation.

This framework helped move the world’s focus from reacting to disasters to managing risks before they happen. Since then, the culture of preparedness has grown to focus more on inclusion, better risk communication and solutions led by local communities, with 131 countries now reporting having national disaster risk reduction strategies in place.

Moreover, Sustainable Development Goal 11 calls for making cities inclusive, safe, resilient and sustainable, and specifically, target 11.5 aims to reduce disaster-related deaths and economic losses. Unfortunately, Asia and the Pacific represent the most disaster impacted region in the world, with rising losses from disasters recorded in the 2026 SDG Progress Report.

However, hope prevails: Japan’s post-2011 approach to reconstruction is an example of SDG 11 in practice: risk-informed urban planning, stricter building codes, ecosystem-based coastal protection, and community-based emergency preparedness. Today, 81 per cent of Pacific Ocean basin countries now have tsunami hazard assessments – the first step to understanding and preparing for the risk. This proves that, even though hazard events are inevitable, we can take measures to ensure they do not become disasters.

Japan’s commitment to transboundary resilience building is also evident through the country’s longstanding membership within the ESCAP multi-donor Trust Fund for Tsunami, Disaster and Climate Preparedness.

Through this regional funding mechanism, Japan and fellow donors from the region and worldwide translate accumulated experience into practical cooperation – reinforcing systems that enable early hazard detection, faster community notification, and the saving of lives.

Most recently, the Trust Fund has supported a comprehensive tsunami preparedness capacity assessment across the region, helping countries identify gaps in early warning, coordination and last-mile communication to strengthen basin-wide resilience.

In an era of intensifying climate risks and cascading crises, remembrance must be reinforced by collective actions.

Temily Baker is Programme Management Officer, Disaster Risk Reduction Section, ESCAP and Sofia Bilmes is Intern, Disaster Risk Reduction Section, ESCAP

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Bula Central School in Bula, Camarines Sur, Philippines, remain flooded a week after Tropical Storm Trami brought heavy rains and strong winds to much of the country in 2024. Extreme weather patterns such as this illustrate the type of intensified climate risks associated with warming oceans and shifting climate patterns. Credit: UNICEF/Martin San Diego.

By Oritro Karim
UNITED NATIONS, Mar 6 2026 (IPS)

Earlier this week World Meteorological Organization (WMO) announced that the weakening conditions of La Niña conditions are beginning to fade, with climate conditions transitioning toward ENSO-neutral —a phase in which neither El Niño nor La Niña is present and oceanic and atmospheric conditions in the tropical Pacific remain near average. The agency noted that this shift could lead to the development of El Niño later in the year, a pattern typically associated with rising global temperatures and an increased risk of extreme weather events worldwide.

Although these forecasts carry a degree of uncertainty— particularly during the boreal spring, when the well-known “spring predictability barrier” temporarily reduces the accuracy of ENSO predictions — they remain crucial for global climate preparedness measures. Early warnings of shifts between El Niño, La Niña, and neutral conditions give governments, industries, and humanitarian organizations essential time to prepare for disasters.

By informing disaster planning, protecting critical infrastructure, and guiding responses for climate-sensitive communities, these forecasts can help reduce damage, strengthen resilience, and potentially save millions of dollars in economic losses from extreme weather patterns.

“The WMO community will be carefully monitoring conditions in the coming months to inform decision-making,” said WMO Secretary-General Celeste Saulo, noting that the most recent El Niño event in 2023-2024 was one of the five strongest on record, contributing to the record-breaking global temperatures observed in 2024.

“Seasonal forecasts for El Niño and La Niña help us avert millions of dollars in economic losses and are essential planning tools for climate-sensitive sectors like agriculture, health, energy, and water management,” Saulo added. “They are also a key part of the climate intelligence provided by WMO to support humanitarian operations and disaster risk management, and thus save lives.”

According to forecasts from the WMO Global Producing Centres, there is a 60 percent chance that ENSO-neutral conditions will persist from March through May. From April to June, the likelihood of El Niño developing increases to approximately 70 percent. By May through July, the likelihood of ENSO-neutral conditions drops to around 60 percent, while the chance of El Niño rises to roughly 40 percent.

These projections suggest that global ocean temperatures will likely continue to rise as the year progresses, signaling a need for resilient climate-monitoring and preparatory efforts, particularly for the highly vulnerable populations in coastal regions in the Asia-Pacific.

“When El Niño develops, we’re likely to set a new global temperature record,” said climate scientist Jennifer Francis of the Woodwell Climate Research Center. “‘Normal” was left in the dust decades ago. And with this much heat in the system, everyone should buckle up for the extreme weather it will fuel.”

El Niño and La Niña are primarily driven by fluctuations in ocean and surrounding atmospheric conditions in the tropical Pacific region, with their impacts being exacerbated by human-induced climate change. Rising global temperatures have been found to amplify the frequency and severity of extreme weather events associated with these oscillations, including extensive droughts, prolonged monsoons, devastating floods, stronger tropical cyclones, heatwaves, and wildfires.

These shifts disrupt seasonal rainfall and temperature patterns, leading to biodiversity loss and widespread ecosystem degradation. Immediate consequences include growing food insecurity driven by declining crop yields and collapsing fisheries, along with heightened risks to human health, livelihoods, water security, and broader economic stability.

“El Niño is typically associated with increased rainfall triggering flooding in the Horn of Africa and the southern United States of America, and unusually dry and warm conditions in South East Asia, Australia and southern Africa,” explained José Álvaro Silva, a climate expert for WMO.

“In the past, it has exacerbated drought in northern South America and has also contributed to drier and warmer conditions in parts of southern Africa. Each El Niño event is unique in terms of magnitude, spatial pattern, temporal evolution and impacts,” Silvo told an IPS correspondent. “The impacts of the 2023-2024 El Nino combined with human-induced climate change, have largely contributed to the extreme heat across the planet…Sea surface temperatures and ocean heat were at record levels – even in areas not typically affected by El Niño. There were widespread marine heatwaves and coral bleaching.”

A joint study led by Professor Benjamin Horton, Dean of the School of Energy and Environment at City University of Hong Kong, in collaboration with researchers from Nanyang Technological University in Singapore, published in January, examined the long-term impacts of El Niño on human health. Titled Enduring Impacts of El Niño on Life Expectancy in Past and Future Climates, the study drew upon roughly six decades of findings from ten Pacific Rim countries, including the United States, Japan, Hong Kong, Singapore, and Australia.

The study found that intensifying El Niño periods are having increasingly detrimental effects on human mortality rates and life expectancy, having notably increased over the past several years. Researchers found a strong correlation between gradually hotter El Niño events and infectious diseases, cardiovascular and respiratory illnesses, with children and the elderly facing heightened risks. The study also found a direct correlation between hotter El Niño periods and disruptions to healthcare systems as a result of infrastructure damage, which greatly compounds public health challenges.

Historically, the two strongest El Niño events on record — 1982-1983 and 1997-1998 — were linked with lowered life expectancy of approximately a year and one-third of a year, respectively, equivalent to economic losses of roughly USD 2.6 trillion and USD 4.7 trillion. In Hong Kong alone, the 1982-83 event resulted in an estimated 0.6 year decline in life expectancy and economic losses of nearly USD 15 billion, while the 1997-98 event resulted in a 0.4 year reduction and losses exceeding USD 5.8 billion.

Horton warned that intensifying El Niño events could reduce life expectancy across these regions by up to 2.8 years and generate cumulative losses of approximately $35 trillion by 2100. While the study does not provide region-level projections, current trends suggest that Hong Kong alone could face economic losses between USD 250 billion and USD 300 billion over the course of the century.

“El Niño is predictable,” Professor Horton said. “So, with the right planning, we can reduce its impacts. To mitigate El Niño events, countries and regions need strong early-warning systems, heat-health action plans, better water management, and protection for workers exposed to extreme heat. They also need resilient infrastructure, smarter agriculture that can cope with heatwaves, droughts, and heavy rainfall, and public health systems that are prepared for spikes in disease and pollution.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We began locally, but with shared purpose.

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

Different materials.

One shared goal.

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

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

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

Japanese students created handmade soaps using discarded citrus peels.

Handmade soaps using discarded citrus peels. Credit: Karuta Yamamoto

The soaps ready for sale. Credit: Karuta Yamamoto

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But our collaboration did not stop in Japan and Korea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Edited by Dr Hanna Yoon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Campers help with cooking. Credit: Ippei Takemura

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Edited by Dr Hanna Yoon

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The photo shows an all-girls cricket team from Dir that made it to the finals of the inter-regional games, all without coaching, back in 2023. "Imagine what they can achieve with the right facilities and proper training," said Noorena Shams, also from Dir. Courtesy: Noorena Shams

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KARACHI, Pakistan, Mar 4 2026 (IPS)

“I was very happy to see the way Aina Wazir was playing cricket,” says 28-year-old Noorena Shams, a professional squash player, when she saw the seven-year-old’s video. The clip, which spread rapidly across social media, drew widespread praise for the young girl’s remarkable talent.

But the events that unfolded were like reliving her past.

“It was like watching my younger self,” said Shams, who belongs to Dir, in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP), bordering Afghanistan, close to where Aina lives in North Waziristan. Both are part of Pakistan’s tribal region.

“Aina, like me, does not have a father to fight the world for her,” she said quietly.

The video also caught the attention of Javed Afridi, CEO of Peshawar Zalmi, who expressed interest in inducting Aina into the upcoming Zalmi Women League. In a post on X, he requested her contact details, promising her cricket equipment and training facilities.

“We couldn’t have imagined the video would get so much attention,” said her cousin, requesting anonymity, speaking to IPS by phone from Shiga Zalwel Khel, a village along the Pakistan-Afghanistan border in North Waziristan. “We were overjoyed; it meant new opportunities and a brighter future for her.”

But the joy was short-lived.

Caught Between Militancy and Military

The video caught the attention of local militants.

Angered by the public display of a girl playing sport, the militants abducted Zafran Wazir—a local teacher who had filmed and uploaded the video with the family’s consent—and forced him to issue a public apology for violating “Islamic values and Pashtun traditions”. It has been reported that he was tortured.

The militants have warned the family that Aina cannot leave the village and that the girl must not accept any offers from anyone. “They said she can play cricket,” said her cousin, “But there should be no videos.”

“Ordinary people in the region are caught between a rock and a hard place—trapped between militant groups and the Pakistan army’s ongoing armed operations,” said Razia Mehsood, 36, a journalist from South Waziristan. “The Taliban tolerate no dissent, and our once-peaceful region is now scarred by landmines on the ground and quadcopters and drones overhead. People are living under constant psychological strain,” she added.

Noorena Shams, a professional squash player, has shown her support for Aina Wazir. Courtesy: Noorena Shams

Defying the Odds

“I hope she [Aina] can leave the place,” said Maria Toorpakai, 35, the first tribal Pakistani woman who went to play in international squash tournaments, turning professional in 2007.

“Whenever there is a talented girl, every effort should be made to remove her from the toxic environment—even if it means a huge sacrifice from the family,” she said, who belongs to neighbouring South Waziristan but was speaking to IPS from Toronto, where she now resides.

Both Toorpakai and Shams had to leave their homes to escape relentless scrutiny. Belonging to a conservative and patriarchal region, they had to disguise themselves as boys to pursue sports.

Toorpakai cut her hair short, dressed like a boy, and renamed herself “Genghis Khan” to participate in competitive sports.

Shams, meanwhile, was hesitantly allowed to play badminton because it was deemed “more appropriate for young women”.

Despite her parents’ support, she watched boys playing in the only cricket club in Dir, founded by her father.

But theirs is not the only journey fraught with hurdles because of a patriarchal mindset and a rigid tribal background where women’s visibility itself is contested.

“The greatest tragedy is that women’s voices are silenced and excluded from representation, while traditions disguised as religion persist, tying honour and dishonour to women,” said Mehsood. Both Toorpakai and Shams know all this too well. Their families faced constant social rebuke and accusations for bringing dishonour to their villages and tribes, all for playing a sport.

They are not alone.

Athletes like Sadia Gul (former Pakistan No. 1 in squash), Tameen Khan (who in 2022 was Pakistan’s fastest female sprinter), and Salma Faiz (cricketer) relocated from districts including Bannu, D.I. Khan, and Karak to Peshawar, the provincial capital—not just for better opportunities but to escape constant scrutiny.

“If you’re lucky enough that your grandfather, father, or brother doesn’t put a stop to your dreams, then it will be your uncles,” said Salma Faiz, the only sister among six brothers. “And if not them, the neighbours will start counting the minutes you take to get home. They’ll question why you train under male coaches, who watches your matches, and even what you wear beneath your chador. And if it’s still not them, then the villagers will whisper behind your back or land at your doorstep, convincing your parents that girls shouldn’t play sports at all.”

Faiz endured opposition from her elder brother but never gave up cricket. She eventually got selected for the national women’s cricket team.

“Aina is fortunate to receive such overwhelming applause,” said Faiz, now 40, living in Peshawar and working as a lecturer in health and physical education at Shaheed Benazir Bhutto Women University.

“I urge her parents not to surrender to social pressure; they should stand by her and encourage her. She has extraordinary talent—I’ve seen the way she plays,” Faiz pointed out.

Safe Spaces for Women Athletes

Each of these women is now creating ways for their younger counterpart to access the opportunity they lacked.

Faiz has opened her home to girls from tribal regions pursuing sport. When space runs out, she arranges hostel accommodation to ensure they get a shot at opportunities that would likely never reach their village.

Toorpakai, through the Maria Toorpakai Foundation, has, over the years, built a strong network, providing safe spaces for young sportswomen from her region.

But now she wants to go beyond providing temporary support. Her vision to build a state-of-the-art Toorpakai Sports School—a residential facility where girls like Aina Wazir can train seriously, study properly, and live without fear—remains a dream.

“All I want from the state is six acres of land near Islamabad,” she said. “Far enough from tribal hostility but accessible to girls from across Pakistan and international coaches I intend to rope in. I can manage the rest. I can raise funds.”

For over two years, her proposal has been stalled by bureaucratic red tape. “It tells you everything,” she said. “The state simply isn’t interested.”

Shams, too, like Toorpakai, runs the Noorena Shams Foundation, currently supporting four women athletes by giving them a monthly stipend for their training, transport and rent. But if anyone else needs equipment, tuition fees, or house rent, her foundation is able to furnish those needs. She even helped construct two cricket pitches for Faiz’s university.

As the first female athlete elected to the executive committees of the Provincial Squash Association, the Sports Management Committee, the Olympic Association, and the Pakistan Cycling Federation, she has championed young athletes—especially sportswomen— ensuring their concerns are heard.

“I continue to bring to the table issues of athletes’ mental and physical health, the need for international-level coaching, the safety and harassment women face, and the importance of integrating competitive sports into school curricula.”

Using Religion to Quash Dreams

Social media may have provided Aina Wazir with a platform to showcase her talent, but it has also exposed her to hostility.

“We are not against a child playing cricket,” said 27-year-old Mufti Ijaz Ahmed, a religious scholar from South Waziristan. “But she must stop once she becomes a woman. It is against our traditions for women to run around in pants and shirts in public. It is vulgar. If Aina is allowed to do this, every girl will want to follow—and we cannot accept that.”

“The mera jism, meri marzi (my body, my choice) slogan will not work here,” Ahmed went on, referring to a popular slogan that has been chanted since March 8, 2018, and which came under heavy criticism for being a rebellion against the cultural values and Islam.

“Who is he to declare that Aina can’t play?” retorted an incensed Maria Toorpakai, who also serves on the International Olympic Committee’s (IOC) Women in Sport Commission. “Whenever a girl picks up a bat or a ball, Islam is said to be endangered,” she added.

“I would respect them if they confronted and condemned the real ills in my region—drug abuse, child marriage, bacha bazi (the exploitation of adolescent boys coerced into cross-dressing, dancing, and sexual abuse), and the spread of HIV and AIDS. Instead, they obsess over distorted ideas of honour and dishonour. They neither understand the world we live in nor the true essence of Islam. Moreover, they have done nothing for our people.”

National responsibility

Ultimately, she argued, the responsibility lies with the state. It cannot afford to look away while intimidation silences young girls with talent and ambition. It is not only a personal tragedy but also a national loss when talent in remote villages is stifled before it can surface.

“It is the government’s duty to deal firmly with such elements,” she said. “And if it cannot protect its daughters, then it must ask itself why it is in power at all.”

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

By Ria Shibata
Mar 3 2026 (IPS)

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

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

A New Phase of Digital Politics in Japan

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

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

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

The Politics of Strength in an Age of Uncertainty

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

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

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

A Global Pattern: Virtual Branding, a Democratic Crossroads

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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The effects of Typhoon Odette in Lapu-Lapu City, Cebu, Philippines, 2021. Credit: Unsplash/Carl Kho

By Anne Cortez
MANILA, Philippines, Mar 3 2026 (IPS)

Communities globally are increasingly exposed to overlapping threats. Extreme weather, health emergencies and cyberattacks are occurring more frequently and simultaneously, often interacting in ways that amplify risks and strain response systems.

Experts describe this as a polycrisis, where threats converge, creating a complex pressure point for governments, businesses and communities.

Today, a polycrisis is brewing at the intersection of climate change and cybersecurity. The latest Global Risks Report by the World Economic Forum ranks extreme weather and natural disasters among the top global threats, while risks linked to digital and artificial intelligence have climbed up the list.

Over the next decade, these environmental and technological dangers are expected to dominate, underscoring how deeply intertwined they have become.

Asia and the Pacific is increasingly becoming a hotspot for these twin threats. The world’s most disaster-prone region, it faced the highest number of disasters and deaths in 2023, with 66 million people affected and annual losses reaching an estimated US$780 billion. At the same time, the region has become the new ground zero for cybercrime, fuelled by rapid digital transformation during and after the pandemic.

In 2024, it accounted for over one-third of all global cyber incidents, including roughly 135,000 ransomware attacks in Southeast Asia alone, costing the region an average of US$3.05 million per attack. The Philippines, Indonesia and Vietnam were among the most affected.

Asia’s geographic exposure and rapid digital growth have turned its climate vulnerability into a growing cyber vulnerability, especially across critical infrastructure and information systems.

As essential services including health, communications and energy depend on digital networks, climate-driven disruptions such as typhoons and floods can force systems into manual workarounds or less secure channels, creating openings for digital breaches at the worst possible moment.

The 9.1 magnitude earthquake and tsunami in Japan in 2011 provided an early glimpse into the interconnected climate-cyber risks. In weeks following the earthquake, cyber criminals exploited the chaos with phishing and malware schemes disguised as disaster relief efforts, stealing data and hindering recovery.

So far, cases in the region have largely involved natural hazards, but climate change is intensifying these events, increasing their frequency and severity and placing sustained stress on digital infrastructure, which in turn creates more openings for cyber attacks.

Some researchers suggest that, contrary to prevailing beliefs, climate change is expected to increase the frequency and severity of earthquakes and volcanic eruptions in addition to other extreme weather events, and all of these events have been linked to spikes in cyber incidents.

Research shows that the likelihood of cyberattacks increases dramatically during natural disasters, as defensive systems and attention are compromised. In the United States, for instance, government agencies and researchers have warned the public of heightened digital threats including scams following hurricanes and wildfires, demonstrating how climate hazards can create openings for malicious actors.

When these vulnerabilities are exploited, response and recovery efforts can be paralysed at the very moment they are most needed.

This convergence of vulnerabilities changes the nature of disaster risk. The UN Office for Disaster Risk Reduction now includes cyber threats in its hazard taxonomies because losses of connectivity and cyber incidents reshape exposure and coping capacity. Treating these threats separately leaves significant gaps in preparedness and response.

Across the Caribbean, interest in the climate-cyber convergence has grown, with governments and partners conducting assessments, dialogues and scenario planning to strengthen shared resilience and ensure that physical and digital systems can withstand compounded shocks. In Europe, researchers are drawing lessons from environmental law to inform and strengthen cybersecurity policies.

Given these global developments, it is concerning that the recent COP30 focused heavily on how technology can support climate adaptation, yet paid less attention to how the same systems become vulnerable during climate-driven disruptions.

Even more worrying is that Asia and the Pacific, despite being highly exposed to both disaster and cyber risk, has not yet shown the same level of integrated response or public alarm seen elsewhere.

The region has robust frameworks for disaster and climate resilience under the Sendai Framework for Disaster Risk Reduction, implemented through regional action plans, financing facility and cooperation programs.

At the same time, ASEAN and its partners have cybersecurity policy guidelines that cover digital governance, data management and response to transboundary cyber threats. However, these tracks largely operate in parallel, missing opportunities for integration.

Reports highlight gaps in how climate and cyber risks are managed and financed. Agencies still work in silos, with little joint analysis or shared data, and insufficient tools, financing and capacity to manage combined climate-cyber risks.

Asia and the Pacific has the institutions and expertise to respond, but what is missing is a mindset that treats climate and cyber threats as interconnected. As climate extremes and cyberattacks accelerate, the region cannot continue fighting on two fronts with divided defences.

Building climate-cyber resilience in the region requires integrated planning, strengthened continuity systems and regional cooperation.

First, joint climate-cyber assessments and exercises are needed to map interdependent failures and strengthen coordinated response.

Second, critical services need strong backups, diversified connectivity and tested recovery plans that anticipate physical damage to digital infrastructure, ensuring continuity even during disasters.

Third, financing and cooperation should harmonise reporting for compound events, require safeguards and build pooled insurance, supported by development banks and donors.

The convergence of climate and cyber risks is changing the nature of crises worldwide. Future disasters are likely to involve multiple, interacting shocks rather than isolated events. As this reality enters discussions in platforms such as Davos and ASEAN 2026, attention is turning to the Asia and Pacific region to advance integrated resilience as a policy priority. Delaying action will only compound impacts and put far more lives and futures at risk.

This article was originally published online at Devpolicy Blog. The Blog is run out of the Development Policy Centre housed in the Crawford School of Public Policy at The Australian National University.

Anne Cortez is a knowledge and communications consultant for the Asian Development Bank’s climate and health portfolio. She also advises the APAC Cybersecurity Fund, an initiative of The Asia Foundation, on strategic communications and policy priorities. Learn more about her work here.

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Secretary-General António Guterres attends the Security Council meeting on the situation in the Middle East. Credit: UN Photo/Eskinder Debebe.

By Naureen Hossain
UNITED NATIONS, Mar 2 2026 (IPS)

The United States and Israel launched a joint military strike on Iran on February 28. Iran followed with military strikes on Israeli bases and on Arab Gulf states, including Bahrain, Oman, and the United Arab Emirates. The realized threat of a new war has caused alarm for the security situation in the Middle East and its impact on civilian populations.

While the latest outbreak of fighting unfolded in the Middle East, the UN Security Council in New York convened an emergency meeting to deliberate over the military attacks in Iran. The session was convened at the request of Iran and members of the Security Council.

UN Secretary-General António Guterres briefed the Council on the situation up to that point and condemned the escalating hostilities. “We are witnessing a grave threat to international peace and security. Military action carries the risk of igniting a chain of events that no one can control in the most volatile region of the world,” he warned.

Under Article 2 of the UN Charter, all member states shall “refrain in their international relations from the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any state,” Guterres reminded the Council. He reiterated that there would be no “viable alternative to the peaceful settlement of international disputes” and that “lasting peace” could only be accomplished through diplomatic negotiations.

Guterres also noted that the U.S.-Israeli strikes took place following the latest round of indirect negotiations between the U.S. and Iran mediated by Oman, which were expected to lead into further political talks. “I deeply regret that this opportunity of diplomacy has been squandered.”

According to Iran, the U.S.-Israeli strikes constituted a clear violation of the UN Charter and a threat to international peace and security. Sayed Abbas Araghchi, Iran’s Foreign Minister, said in a letter addressed to Guterres that in response to the aggression, Iran was invoking its right to self-defense under Article 51 of the Charter. This outlines that the Charter shall not “impair the inherent right of individual or collective self-defense,” and that any actions taken by member states to exercise their right to self-defense must be “immediately reported to the Security Council and shall not in any way affect the authority and the responsibility” of the Council to take actions as it “deems necessary in order to maintain or restore international peace and security.”

“The United States and the Israeli regime shall bear full and direct responsibility for all ensuing consequences, including any escalation arising from their unlawful actions,” Aragchi said. Noting the “grave and far-reaching consequences” of a regional conflict, Aragchi wrote of the collective responsibility of the UN and the Security Council to take immediate action and to “discharge their duties without delay.”

Ambassador Amir Saeid Iravani of Iran reiterated the point before the Security Council, remarking on the threat to the country’s sovereignty and that actions taken by the U.S. and Israel were in violation of the UN Charter. There is also the added context that the first round of U.S.-Israeli strikes killed Iran’s supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei.

Some members of the Council spoke against Iran’s military actions on Saturday and against the regime under Khanmenei as it related to its nuclear program and its “appalling violence and repression against its own people.” The U.K., France and Germany jointly condemned the regime and its attacks on countries in the region.

Acting Permanent Representative of the United Kingdom James Kariuki remarked that the present was a “fragile moment for the Middle East.” As the president of the Security Council for the month of February, Kariuki noted that Iran “repeatedly ignored calls” for a solution to its nuclear program and the seeming lack of cooperation with the IAEA. He stated that Iran “must refrain from further strikes, and its appalling behavior, to allow a path back to diplomacy. ”

“My country, which is a champion of peace and coexistence, never expected to be targeted by wanton aggressions without any justification,” said Bahrain Ambassador Jamal Al Rowaiei. Bahrain was one of the Gulf states targeted by Iranian military forces and currently sits on the Security Council as an elected member. Al Rowaiei condemned Iran for its attacks on residential areas and vital facilities—including a U.S. Navy base—and called for all in “containing this crisis” to protect the stability of the region.

Other member states remarked on the threats to international peace and security. In condemning the military attacks on Iran and the Arab Gulf states, Pakistan Ambassador Asim Ahmad regretted that “diplomacy has once again been derailed,” referring to the negotiations between the U.S. and Iran. “These military actions undermine dialogue and further erode trust that was already in short supply,” said Ahmad.

Echoing Guterres’ sentiments, other UN entities and leaders reiterated calls to continue negotiations and to respect international law. Dr. Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, Director-General of the World Health Organization (WHO), said that he was “deeply troubled” by the situation in the Middle East and expressed that world leaders should choose the “challenging path of dialogue” over the “senseless route of destruction.”

“My heart goes out to the civilians trapped in the crossfire. Regardless of borders, everyone deserves to live without the threat of violence around them,” he said.

Across Iran, civilian infrastructures have been destroyed, leading to scores of casualties. Of note, schools have been bombed by Israeli airstrikes, including a girls’ elementary school in Minab in Hormozgan province in southern Iran. As of March 1, the death toll from this strike has risen to 165, according to state sources.

UNICEF issued a statement shortly after the school bombings, warning that the “weekend’s military escalation in the Middle East marks a dangerous moment for millions of children in the region.” They called for an immediate end to the hostilities and for all parties to uphold their obligations to international humanitarian and human rights law, including the protection of children. “Targeting civilians and civilian objects, including schools, is a violation of international law.”

“Bombs and missiles are not the way to resolve differences but only result in death, destruction and human misery,” said Volker Türk, the UN Human Rights Chief. He added that all parties must de-escalate and return to the negotiating table and warned that failing to do so would only lead to further “senseless civilian deaths” and “destruction on a potentially unimaginable scale.”

The International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) has said that they were “closely monitoring” developments, urging restraint to “avoid any nuclear safety risks.”

The U.S. will take over as president of the Security Council in March. It will be a matter of waiting to see the role that this institution will play in protecting the principles of international law and preventing further loss of civilian lives.

IPS UN Bureau Report

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

Kyle A Domequil

What were the circumstances of the arrests?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who celebrated their conviction, and what does that reveal?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What happens next?

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

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

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

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

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