Parliamentarians from Africa, Asia, and the Arab world gathered to assess pledges made at last year’s TICAD9 summit in Yokohama. Credit: APDA

By Hisham Allam
CAIRO, May 14 2026 (IPS)

The word heard most often at a two-day parliamentary forum in Cairo last week was not “commitment”; it was “follow-up.” And the difference mattered.

Parliamentarians from Africa, Asia, and the Arab world gathered 28–29 April not to renew pledges made at last year’s TICAD9 summit in Yokohama, but to ask what had actually been done. The answer was uneven, and delegates said so plainly.

The meeting, organised by the Asian Population and Development Association (APDA) and the Forum of Arab Parliamentarians on Population and Development (FAPPD) with support from UNFPA, the Japan Trust Fund, and IPPF, focused on sexual and reproductive health, universal health coverage, youth investment, and gender equality. It convened against a difficult backdrop: shrinking donor budgets, deepening demographic pressure across Africa, and a persistent gap between legislation and delivery.

Japan’s Makishima Karen, a member of the House of Representatives, Vice Chair of the Japan Parliamentarians Federation for Population, and former Minister for Digital Affairs, set the tone early. “Once a conference is finished, it’s no longer the finish – we should follow up the outcomes and the concrete actions,” she told IPS on the sidelines.

Makishima was direct about where progress begins. “Wherever you live or wherever you are born, the right to live healthily is a human right,” she said. “That is why I focus on the necessity of universal health coverage (UHC) for all.” She argued that UHC cannot be achieved without bringing finance ministries into the conversation: “The understanding of the Minister of Finance is necessary. We are encouraging ministries of finance to join the process.”

On what actually drives change at the community level, she was equally clear: “When mothers cannot read, it must be difficult for their communities to live healthily and safely. Education of women and girls is essential to protect the next generation.”

She also raised a dimension of the agenda that often goes unstated: the role of digital tools. Drawing on her background in digital governance, she argued that technology is not a separate track but integral to delivery: “With one smartphone, every person can access information, check their own data, and have the ability to control it. That is part of democracy.”

Meeting chairs set the tone, demanding asking for action, not new pledges, at a recent two-day forum in Cairo. Credit: APDA

On the wave of aid cuts hitting development programmes globally, she did not deflect. “I believe in the necessity of multilateral organisational frameworks; otherwise, it is very difficult to continue the necessary programmes in each region.” The longer-term answer, she said, is not to wait for donors to return. “Within five or ten years, each government should take on the responsibility to continue these programmes. We must have a very long-term perspective.”

Tanzania’s Jackson Kiswaga, MP, offered the clearest example of what domestic ownership can look like. His country, with 71.5 million people, 60 percent under 24, growing at nearly three percent a year, has been moving fast. In 2023, Tanzania passed the Universal Health Insurance Act, integrating reproductive health services into mandatory coverage spanning formal and informal sectors. A dedicated Youth Ministry was established under the President’s Office. A national scholarship programme has since supported over 400 girls in science education, with measurable reductions in early marriage and pregnancy.

“Institutional innovations are models for other countries,” Kiswaga said. “Strong partnerships in the health sector are key to ensuring sustainability.”

Morocco’s Soukaina Lahmouch, MP, offered a sharper warning. Her country enacted landmark legislation against gender-based violence in 2018, but seven years on, implementation has stalled. Procedural complexity, weak enforcement, and cultural resistance, particularly in domestic violence cases, have blunted the law’s impact.

“Women in Morocco still suffer discrimination and exclusion,” she said, “despite the progress made.” She called on TICAD to support not just the drafting of laws but their enforcement through court reform, rural health infrastructure, and access to financing for women.

Parliamentarians were reminded that the outcomes from Cairo would be reported to the Global Conference of Parliamentarians on Population and Development in Tokyo 2027. Credit: APDA

Two other delegates raised pressures that seldom receive equal billing. Tunisia’s Ezzeddine Tayeb, MP warned that his country’s rapidly ageing population is straining its pension system and called for a comprehensive law guaranteeing the rights of elderly citizens, including enforceable standards for long-term care. Algeria’s MP Khaled Bourenane placed the forum’s agenda inside Africa’s continental trajectory: a population heading toward 2.5 billion by 2050, with over 20 million people displaced by climate events annually. Demographic challenges at this scale, he argued, cannot be addressed in silos.

JICA representative Yo Ebisawa pointed to Egypt as a live test case. In 2017, Egypt ranked the third globally in out-of-pocket health spending as a share of household budgets.

Since passing its Universal Health Insurance Law, the country has been rolling out coverage across all 27 governorates, targeting completion by 2030. So far, six million people across six governorates have been enrolled. In Port Said, the share of households facing catastrophic health expenditure has fallen by 40 percent. Japan has backed the rollout with a $400 million development policy loan and an $8 million joint JICA-WHO project providing equipment and training, including for facilities serving Sudanese refugees and medical evacuees from Gaza.

APDA Vice Chair Prof. Kiyoko Ikegami closed the first day with a pointed reminder: the outcomes from Cairo will be reported to the Global Conference of Parliamentarians on Population and Development in Tokyo 2027. The chain of accountability, she said, must hold.

Whether the commitments made in Cairo translate into budget lines, legislation, and services – that is the only measure that counts.

Note: The meeting was organised by the Asian Population and Development Association (APDA) and the Forum of Arab Parliamentarians on Population and Development (FAPPD). It was supported by the Japan Trust Fund (JTF), the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA) Arab States Regional Office (ASRO),  and the International Planned Parenthood Federation (IPPF), in collaboration with the African Parliamentary Forum on Population and Development (FPA).

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The Republic of Korea (Korea), Vietnam and Bangladesh are on three different rungs of the development ladder. While Korea is a member of the rich nations’ club, i.e., the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD), Bangladesh is still a least developed country (LDC); and Vietnam is in the middle.

Anis Chowdhury

But relative policy independence vis-à-vis donors, among other factors, played a crucial role in separating their development trajectory. Development succeeded in countries that maintained policy independence despite their heavy aid dependence.

Aid dependence and policy independence

Being among the world’s poorest countries, all three had to depend heavily on foreign aid. For example, foreign aid financed around 74% of Korea’s imports on average during 1953-1960, and proceeds from the sales of aid goods (e.g., food aid under the PL480 programme of the US, packaged as “Food for Peace”) constituted on average 38.4% of government revenue.

US aid to Korea was “huge”, contributing about 80% of foreign aid during 1945-1975. Korea received nearly as much economic aid from the US as ALL of Africa during 1946-1978. Excluding military aid, the US economic at its peak was 21% of Korea’s GDP, and financed about 50% of government expenditure.

Source: The World Bank

Yet, the Korean government maintained considerable policy independence regarding the use of aid funds. While the US aid agency insisted on providing non-project assistance for macroeconomic stabilisation rather than growth, the Korean government used non-project aid to rebuild the manufacturing sector for accelerating growth, and demanded more project assistance. The policy conflict was negotiated and coordinated by the Combined Economic Board (CEB, established in 1952). Although CEB was jointly chaired by the representatives of the US aid mission in Korea and the Korean government, Korea prevailed.

The Korean government also maintained its policy independence from the World Bank (WB). For example, when in 1967 the WB rejected Korea’s funding request for the Seoul-Busan expressway, connecting the nation’s capital to its main sea-port, Korea completed the 428km expressway with domestic finance and resources in 1970 as other multilateral and bilateral donors also refused to finance it following the WB’s rejection.

The WB and donors believed the expressway was an excessively grandiose project for a country so poor. Proving them wrong, the expressway not only spurred economic activities along the corridor of two major population centres, its construction was a critical learning opportunity for the Koreans. With the gained capacity, Korean construction companies were able to win major infrastructure projects in the Middle-East, which was a critical source of foreign exchange. Korea is now regarded as a leader in infrastructure construction.

The WB also was very critical of Korea’s Heavy and Chemical Industry (HCI) drive (1973-1979). Ignoring the WB, Korea pushed ahead, and proved the WB and other critics wrong. By the early 1980s, HCI became the nation’s leading export industries. The HCI drive was greatly successful in boosting investment, leading to the rapid growth of the manufacturing sector and its structure change. The manufacturing sector grew 16.2% per annum from 1971 to 1980, much higher than the GDP growth of 9.1% during the same period, while the share of HCIs in manufacturing value added rose to 58.3% in 1980.

No wonder, Korea broke away from the poverty trap in the early 1970s, leaving its “poor cousins” – Bangladesh and Vietnam – behind to become a full member of the OECD in little over two decades in 1996.

Vietnam’s story is not so different from that of Korea. Since initiating reforms in 1986, Vietnam quickly became WB’s one of the top loan recipient countries. But the WB’s influence over Vietnam’s development path has been limited, as the government has always refused to adopt policies imposed by foreign organisations. With strong enough institutions Vietnam achieved “ownership” of public policies.

Here is an interesting story of Vietnam’s determination to pursue its own development strategies. When in 1997, the WB approached Vietnam with an offer of US$300 million in credit in exchange for structural adjustment, à la the Washington Consensus model, including faster privatisation and financial liberalisation, the Vietnamese government declined. The WB returned with a higher offer in 1998, and Vietnam declined again. When the WB came again in 1999 with an even higher offer, the government issued a stern rebuke. The minister of planning and investment, Tran Xua Gia, told WB representatives, “You cannot buy reforms with money . . . no one is going to bombard Vietnam into acting.”

By then the Vietnamese government knew from the experience of Indonesia the risks of yielding too much sovereignty to international markets and institutions. The International Monetary Fund (IMF) had to wind up its last programme in 2004 as Vietnam refused the IMF’s demand for an independent audit of its central bank and disagreed over privatisations of state-owned enterprises.

Vietnam charted its own path of reforms – Đổi Mới, learning from successes and failures of neighbouring East Asian countries, including China as well as its former patron and role model, former Soviet Union.

Vietnam posted remarkable macroeconomic performances following the launch of Đổi Mới, with GDP growing at close to 8% per annum. Since the beginning of the 2000s, it also recorded Asia’s highest rate of growth in exports, half of which were made up of manufactured products, prompting The Economist to hail Vietnam as “Asia’s other miracle”.

Starting in 1975 with a per capita GDP of about US$85 after successfully defeating the US that waged a devastating war on Vietnam for more than two decades, Vietnam became a lower middle-income country in 2009. “Desperately seeking model countries”, unsurprisingly the first country Robert Zoellick visited after becoming President of the WB in 2009 was Vietnam, a country governed by its Communist Party, constructing a ‘socialist-oriented market economy’. One could almost say, “Vietnam is more important for the WB than the WB is for Vietnam”!

Poor Bangladesh lacks self confidence

Bangladesh, in search of development, joined the club of LDCs in 1975 when its GDP per capita was US$230, and still remains a LDC after more than five decades maximising LDC related facilities. Bangladesh is scheduled to graduate out of the LDC category in November this year; but it is asking for a deferment, lacking self-confidence.

On the other hand, self-confident Vietnam with its per capita GDP of only US$82 in 1975 decided not to join the LDC club, despite having to face the challenges of reconstruction and reunification in the most difficult global economic situation – stagflation. It received aid (mostly from the former Soviet Union); but did not blindly follow either its former patron USSR’s reform package or that of the WB/IMF. Its former enemy, the US, which pressured the WB to halt all funding, made a U-turn in the early 1990s, and signed the US-Vietnam Bilateral Trade Agreement in 2000.

Korea could have also joined the LDC club in 1971 when the UN created the LDC category for the world’s poorest countries; but it did not. Heavily dependent on US foreign aid for food, fuel and other raw materials, Korea was not seen as a promising place for major investments until the late 1960s. So, the State took the lead to break the vicious circle of low income and low investment.

Of course, Bangladesh is no longer a “basket case”; it is now a lower middle-income country. It also showed some courage to stand on its own feet when the WB declined to finance the Padma Bridge project, citing corruption.

However, Bangladesh could have done better had it not surrendered its policy independence to the donors, as the experiences of RoK and Vietnam demonstrate. Like successful marriages, there are many factors for successful development. Failure in any one of those essential elements can be damning according to Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina principle, even if it has all the other ingredients of success.

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. Anis has written extensively on East and Southeast Asian economies, including The Newly Industrialising Economies of East Asia (Routledge) and The Political Economy of East Asia (Oxford University Press). E-mail: anis.z.chowdhury@gmail.com

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CIVICUS discusses Gen Z-led protests in the Philippines with Charles Zander, a 17-year-old climate justice activist from Bohol and youth campaigner for Greenpeace Philippines.

Charles Zander

What brought you to activism?

I grew up in Bohol, an island province in the Philippines where the climate crisis knocks on our doors every week. When I was younger, politics felt distant, but that changed in 2021, when Typhoon Odette hit our province. My home was severely damaged, but others suffered a lot more. I knew people who lost everything. Coastal communities were flattened and some villages were so cut off that it took weeks for supplies to reach them. In my case, it took two years before we had electricity again, and a year before we had water or I could access education.

My two childhood best friends died in the aftermath, and losing them changed me. At first, I didn’t think I was doing activism. It started with relief work: distributing food, organising community support, listening to people who had lost everything. I realised people needed to be heard. But the more you listen, the more questions appear. Why were some communities still waiting for aid?

Eventually, I realised if you grow up in a place where disasters are routine, silence feels like complicity. I joined local groups working on climate justice, community education and disaster response. And I saw protest as the moment when patience runs out.

What are young Filipinos demanding?

For many young Filipinos, the climate crisis is not a policy issue; it is the story of our lives. Climate injustice is therefore at the core of our struggle, but it connects to many other struggles. We live in a country hit by stronger typhoons every year, yet coal plants still get approved. We have coastal communities losing their homes to storm surges, yet development decisions rarely involve them. We have severe flooding everywhere in the country, and our government is pocketing climate adaptation funds.

When disaster hits, wealthy neighbourhoods rebuild quickly and sometimes are not damaged at all, while remote island communities wait for assistance for months, if not years. Disasters expose inequality, so climate protests are about fairness, about whose lives are considered worth protecting.

How were recent protests organised, and what role did social media play?

There are many active organisations, youth groups and community leaders, and when a major event such as a typhoon or a scandal creates urgency, conversations spread through networks and messaging groups. At some point someone proposes a date, which we often tie to a symbolic moment, such as the day of a national hero. The most recent one, in February, was on the 40th anniversary of the 1986 People Power Revolution. This has practical implications: on holidays, people don’t have school or work, so they can participate without worrying about their livelihoods. And because they’re home, people are paying more attention to social media, which increases our reach.

In this sense, nobody owns the protests. Movements grow because many people decide the moment has come. But organising involves logistics, including permits, safety planning, communication, outreach and coordination among groups with different priorities and strategies. That process can be messy, but it also reflects the democratic nature of grassroots movements. Eventually we all come together and get onto the streets.

Social media platforms, particularly Facebook and Instagram, allow young people to organise quickly across islands, cities and movements. Calls for protests can reach people within hours. Organisers can document events, share live updates and counter disinformation.

We use memes a lot. Older generations might respond to more technical explanations, but Gen Z and Gen Alpha are more reachable through humour and jokes. We also link issues to people’s actual lives so they feel compelled to act. But there needs to be more work on making sure people really know what they are fighting for when they join, not joining because it looks cool on social media.

Ultimately, technology is just a tool. A hashtag cannot replace a community. The underlying work is slower and happens when no one is watching. Protests are the visible tip of the iceberg, but below the surface there are community workshops, policy research meetings with local leaders, training of young volunteers and network-building across the country. A protest is just one day, but organising is the thousands of conversations that make that day possible. Without that groundwork, protests would fade quickly.

What risks have you faced?

For me personally, one of the most tangible dangers has been surveillance, online and offline. After participating in a major climate and social justice march, I noticed my online activity and messages being monitored more closely. It’s a subtle kind of pressure, but it makes you think twice about who you trust, how you communicate, what you post.

There’s also intimidation. At one protest, for instance, local authorities questioned volunteers about their involvement, contacts and affiliations. This is meant to create fear.

This has emotional and practical impacts. It can be exhausting and sometimes isolating. But it also shapes how you organise. You become strategic, deliberate, more protective of your peers. The fact that there are risks shows that those in power recognise the potential of youth movements to challenge the status quo. It is a reminder that our struggle matters.

What have the protests achieved, and where have they fallen short of ambition?

Change rarely arrives all at once. Sometimes protests produce policy progress, stronger commitments and greater attention to issues. Sometimes the impact is cultural. A protest can shift what people believe is possible, what people believe is right.

In the Philippines, the most visible achievement concerned the corruption around flood control projects. Although change is slow, we have seen some politicians arrested. A sitting senator is in hiding right now because of an arrest warrant. If we hadn’t spoken up, we would have lost so much more money from climate adaptation projects while our communities continued to suffer.

But movements also face setbacks. Governments delay action, hiding behind procedural issues, and public attention moves on quickly. This is discouraging. What failure teaches, though, is that we should communicate more effectively, build stronger alliances and sustain momentum beyond a single protest. A movement is not defined by the moment it wins, but by whether it continues after losing.

Is it right to call these Gen Z protests?

I have mixed feelings about it. I understand why the label appears. Many of the visible faces in recent movements are young people. The label captures something real: many young people feel the future they are inheriting was shaped by decisions made long before they had any political voice. The climate crisis is the clearest example. Policies that created the crisis were implemented decades ago, yet the consequences will unfold across the lifetimes of today’s young people. That creates a sense of urgency, and calling these protests Gen Z protests signals that a new generation is politically active and unwilling to remain passive.

But movements are rarely that simple. In almost every movement, people from many generations stand together, students marching alongside workers, community elders joining demonstrations, parents bringing their children, veteran organisers who have been fighting for decades showing up alongside people attending their first protest.

When protests are framed only as Gen Z movements, something important gets lost. It can unintentionally erase the contributions of older generations who built the foundation for these struggles. Every movement stands on ground that someone else cleared. Civil rights campaigns, climate movements and labour struggles didn’t start with Gen Z. These are long historical arcs that young people are entering and pushing forward.

The most powerful movements are intergenerational. Older organisers bring experience, historical memory and institutional knowledge. Younger generations bring new energy, new tools and new ways of communicating. One generation can ignite a movement, but lasting change requires many generations moving together.

It is also wrong to call us leaderless. We are not leaderless; we are leaderful. We just refuse to adopt some of the hierarchical ways of organising of previous generations, because sometimes leading collectively works much better than having someone dictate everything.

What keeps you going?

People, particularly young people, keep going because the problems are immediate and impossible to ignore. Protesting means refusing to accept the future we are being handed and making our voices matter.

Hope is not a passive feeling. It’s found in action, not in waiting. I see hope in the movement, because when young people, elders, students and communities stand together, there’s a shared strength, and the possibility of a world that values dignity, justice and sustainability becomes real. We keep moving because we are not alone. I also find hope in history, because it shows that while change is messy, people have always managed to push the boundaries of what is possible.

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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Residents in Phú Yên, Vietnam, relied on a small wooden boat during a flood. Climate change and El Niño disrupted the livelihood of millions of people in Asia and the Pacific. Credit: Pexels/Long Bà Mùi Source: ESCAP

By Kareff Rafisura
BANGKOK, Thailand, May 11 2026 (IPS)

Climate models are converging: El Niño is likely to return by mid-2026 and could be strong. According to the World Meteorological Organization, it could emerge as early as May–July 2026, with several national hydrometeorological agencies in Asia and the Pacific already issuing alerts.

El Niño makes headlines not because it is rare, but because it amplifies climate risks. Past events have triggered major humanitarian crises, driving drought, food insecurity and public health emergencies across Asia and the Pacific. While each Niño event differs, their impacts tend to follow recognizable regional patterns.

In countries such as Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines and Timor Leste, strong El Niño events have repeatedly brought drought, forest fires, agricultural losses and water stress, with patterns reinforced even during the weaker 2018–2019 El Niño. These impacts provide clear signals of risks concentrated across food, water, health and livelihood systems.

In practical terms, an El Niño event is only fully established when the atmosphere reinforces the warming of oceans. As not all warmings reach that stage, this is where uncertainty lies, including how strong the event will become. While forecasts will improve in the coming months, historical impacts already indicate where risks are likely to concentrate.

To understand the risks, it helps to look at how past events have unfolded in the region. Strong events in 1971–73, 1982–83 and 1997–98 triggered widespread droughts, forest fires and vector-borne diseases, such as dengue, across South and South-East Asia and the Pacific.

While impacts vary by location, the pattern is consistent: risk intensity is highest where exposure overlaps with underlying vulnerabilities caused by poverty, food insecurity and malnutrition, as well as heavy dependence on subsistence farming.

The 2015–2016 El Niño is the strongest of this century and can serve as a useful reference should current conditions develop into a comparable event, given similar early warming patterns. The joint ESCAP and ASEAN report, Ready for the Dry Years, states that during this event, more than 70% of South-East Asia’s land area experienced drought, exposing over 200 million people to severe drought at its peak.

While El Niño affects large areas, its impacts are most severe where climatic exposure overlaps with structural vulnerability. This year, these risks are unfolding in a more complex climate and socioeconomic context, with tighter fiscal space, higher debt levels and persistent global economic uncertainty, as highlighted in the ESCAP Economic and Social Survey of Asia and the Pacific 2026.

At the same time, remittances, an important source of income for countries such as Bangladesh, Nepal, Pakistan, the Philippines and Sri Lanka are being affected, weakening a key buffer that has historically helped households cope with shocks.

Together, these pressures leave governments and households less able to absorb climate shocks than during previous El Niño cycles.

Climate change is amplifying baseline risks. Higher temperatures increase evapotranspiration (process of heat making water evaporate faster), reduce soil moisture and intensify drought conditions. The Ready for the Dry Years report shows that droughts increasingly occur under warmer conditions, magnifying their impacts.

Climate variability is now interacting with long-term warming trends, increasing systemic risks.

The implication is clear: waiting for certainty can increase exposure to avoidable losses. Historical evidence and current signals already provide a sufficient basis for early, no-regret action.

Because the impacts of El Niño align with extremes expected to intensify under climate change, there is a strong case for investing in resilience across scenarios. Three priority areas stand out.

First, turn climate forecasts into actionable decisions on the ground. Seasonal forecasts provide valuable signals, but decisions require localized insight: where water stress will emerge, where crops are likely to fail and which communities are most at risk. Advances in satellite data and analytics now allow near-real-time monitoring of soil moisture, vegetation health and water availability, and should be used to guide targeted preparedness.

Second, early financing is a no-regret investment in resilience. The impacts of El Niño are cumulative and can outlast the event itself. Acting early through social protection, support to farmers and better water management reduces long-term costs and protects hard-won development gains. In a context of constrained fiscal space, anticipatory action limits downstream losses.

Third, strengthen coordination across sectors. El Niño affects multiple sectors simultaneously, including agriculture, water, energy and public health. Coordinated responses enable faster and more efficient actions with benefits that extend beyond a single event.

Even as uncertainty remains around the strength of the evolving event, historical experience makes a clear case for early action to strengthen long-term resilience.

Kareff Rafisura is Economic Affairs Officer, ESCAP

IPS UN Bureau

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Credit: UKBET (UK Bangladesh Education Trust)

By Mohammed A. Sayem
SYLHET, Bangladesh, May 8 2026 (IPS)

When catastrophic floods swept through the Haor wetlands of Sunamganj in 2022, they destroyed far more than homes and crops. They shattered childhoods.

Jannat was only nine years old when floodwater swallowed her family’s house, farmland, and livestock. Like thousands of displaced families in northeastern Bangladesh, they took shelter in a school building converted into an emergency flood centre. But when the water receded, there was nothing left to return to.

The family migrated to a slum in Sylhet city to survive. Her father, once a farmer in the fertile haor lands, began pulling a rented rickshaw. Her mother started working as a domestic worker. Jannat’s school life ended almost overnight. Instead of carrying books, she began washing dishes and cleaning clothes in another family’s home for food and a small income.

Her story reflects a growing reality across climate-vulnerable Bangladesh. The 2022 floods in Sylhet, Kanaighat, Companygonj and Sunamganj were among the worst in more than a century. United Nations agencies estimated that nearly 7.2 million people across northeastern Bangladesh were affected, including around 3.5 million children. Entire villages disappeared under water, electricity collapsed across districts, schools were turned into emergency shelters, and thousands of hectares of cropland were destroyed. UNICEF reported that 1.6 million children were stranded by the floods, while hundreds of educational institutions and community clinics were damaged or submerged.

Credit: UKBET (UK Bangladesh Education Trust)

The crisis did not end in 2022. In 2024, another devastating wave of flooding inundated nearly 75 per cent of Sylhet district, affecting more than two million people across northeastern Bangladesh and displacing thousands of families yet again. More than 800 schools were flooded and large areas of farmland went underwater, deepening poverty and food insecurity. This year again, heavy rainfall and upstream water flows submerged more than 46,000 hectares of standing Boro rice fields in the haor region during harvesting season, threatening livelihoods and increasing the risk of climate migration and child labour. Experts warn that repeated climate shocks are trapping vulnerable families in a cycle of disaster, displacement, and poverty.

Yet hope can still rise from disaster.

The Doorstep Learning Programme (DLP) of UKBET, a UK-based international NGO working in Bangladesh, was created to support children trapped in domestic labour and other vulnerable situations in urban slums. Rather than waiting for children to return to school on their own, the programme brings education, counselling, and rehabilitation support directly to their communities. Through flexible learning support and family livelihood assistance, it helps children return to education while reducing families’ dependence on child labour for survival.

Credit: UKBET (UK Bangladesh Education Trust)

DLP identified Jannat and supported her return to school alongside her younger brother. The programme also helped her father secure his own rickshaw, giving the family a more stable livelihood and a chance to rebuild their future.

As global leaders gather at the Eighth Assembly of the Global Environment Facility (GEF) in Samarkand, Uzbekistan in May–June 2026 to discuss climate financing and resilience, stories like Jannat’s must remain at the centre of international attention. (Global Environment Facility) Climate change is no longer only about rising temperatures or environmental loss. It is about children losing education, dignity, and hope.

Credit: UKBET (UK Bangladesh Education Trust)

Local community-led initiatives that protect vulnerable children and strengthen climate resilience deserve far greater global investment and support through mechanisms such as the GEF Trust Fund and international adaptation financing.

Because children like Jannat are not victims to be pitied. They are futures worth protecting.

Mohammed A Sayem is Executive Director, UKBET
Sylhet, Bangladesh
msayem@ukbet-bd.org

IPS UN Bureau

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Malawian Farmers harvest sweet potatoes in fields where no chemicals have been used. Credit: Albert Khumalo

By Benson Kunchezera and Tanka Dhakal
LILONGWE & VIENTIANE, May 7 2026 (IPS)

For decades, pesticides have been a quiet pillar of Malawi’s agriculture, guarding crops against pests, improving yields, and sustaining millions of livelihoods. But beneath this success story lay a troubling reality: weak regulation, unsafe handling practices, and growing threats to human health and the environment.

Between 2015 and 2023, USD 2.55 million by the Global Environment Facility (GEF) set out to confront these challenges head-on. Today, it is leaving behind a legacy that is transforming how Malawi manages pesticides from importation to disposal and reshaping the way farmers think about crop protection.

At the centre of this shift is a stronger institutional framework. The project supported a comprehensive review of national pesticide regulations, bringing them closer to international standards. It also invested in training regulatory staff in pesticide registration, monitoring, enforcement, and lifecycle management, areas that had long remained underdeveloped.

“We invested heavily in strengthening systems, not just solving immediate problems,” said Precious Chizonda, Registrar of the Pesticides Control Board of Malawi and former National Coordinator for the GEF project. “This has positioned Malawi to better manage pesticides across their entire lifecycle, from importation to disposal.”

A major milestone was the development of a strategic plan for the Pesticides Control Board (PCB), aimed at improving efficiency and aligning operations with global best practices. Collaboration played a crucial role. The Malawi Bureau of Standards provided laboratory services for pesticide quality testing, while the Ministry of Agriculture ensured policy coordination. Together, these institutions helped elevate the PCB’s effectiveness and national visibility.

Some examples of pesticide-free farming include bananas grown using manure and tomatoes grown using neem water to deter pests and a woman farmer is shown mixing ash with her pigeon peas for storage to protect them from weevils. Credit: Albert Khumalo

Obsolete Pesticides

The project also delivered concrete environmental results. Approximately 208 tonnes of obsolete pesticides — including highly hazardous persistent organic pollutants — were safely destroyed through high-temperature incineration. Another 40 tonnes of contaminated waste were secured in an engineered landfill. These efforts eliminated long-standing sources of soil and water pollution, protecting ecosystems and communities.

Equally significant was the introduction of a pilot system for managing empty pesticide containers. Initially constrained by regulatory challenges, the initiative has since gained traction and continues beyond the project’s lifespan. Supported by industry stakeholders such as CropLife, it now collects used containers from farms across the country, demonstrating a viable model for environmentally sound waste management.

A field of irish potatoes grown without using chemicals. Credit: Albert Khumalo

Farm Level Changes

But perhaps the most profound change is happening at the farm level.

In Lichenza, under Chiladzulu’s Thumbwe Extension Planning Area, 39-year-old farmer Emily Zuwedi recalls how deeply rooted pesticide use once was. “We used to believe in pesticides when growing our crops, but that is now a thing of the past,” she said.

Zuwedi joined a farmer training group in 2017, where she learned about integrated pest management (IPM) and alternative methods that reduce reliance on chemicals. Today, she grows onions and beans using these techniques, cutting costs while protecting her health and the environment.

“I am spending less money now, and my crops are still doing well,” she said.

Her experience reflects a broader shift among smallholder farmers. Albert Khumalo, an Extension Development Officer in Chiladzulu, said the transition was not immediate. “At first it was difficult for farmers to accept, but after the trials they get along,” he explained.

Since 2024, Khumalo and his team have trained at least 100 farmers in pesticide-free farming methods. The results are encouraging – farmers are reducing production costs, improving soil health, and becoming more environmentally conscious.

“This program is helping farmers conserve the environment while also saving money,” Khumalo said. “And those who learn are now able to share knowledge with others.”

The project has also strengthened Malawi’s compliance with international chemical conventions by building expertise in risk assessment and regulatory procedures, an area where the country previously faced challenges.

While gaps remain, particularly in scaling up initiatives to reach more smallholder farmers, the progress is undeniable. Malawi is demonstrating that agricultural productivity and environmental protection do not have to be at odds.

Across the country’s fields, a quiet transformation is underway – one in which safer practices, stronger systems, and informed farmers are cultivating not just crops but also a more sustainable future.

In Lao PDR, the UNDP and the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry lead a $4.2 million GEF-funded FARM project. Credit: Lao farmer network

Laos Sustainable Farming

However, GEF funding is being used in several parts of the world, including Asia.

In Lao PDR, GEF funding is helping farmers adopt and apply practices that promote sustainable agriculture.

Laos farmers are being trained and given extension support to “reduce dependence on hazardous pesticides while integrating environmentally friendly pest management approaches”, Saithong Phengboupha, project manager at the Department of Agriculture under the Ministry of Agriculture and Environment, said.

“This aligns their practices with good agricultural standards, translating upstream policy gains into tangible on-farm change.”

According to the Ministry, GEF funding has been helpful to create the foundation by strengthening the legislative and regulatory environment governing pesticide and agricultural input management.

“Key milestones include the promulgation of the Law on Crop Production and the development of decrees on fertiliser regulation and good agricultural practices (GAP), currently in the final stages. The instruments establish the legal basis for sustained enforcement and compliance beyond the project lifecycle,” Phengboupha said, explaining how FARM funding is being used to improve the agricultural future of the country.

The $4.2 million initiative through the FARM project is led by the UNDP and the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry.

The FARM project is establishing a pilot on agrochemical container and plastic waste management in Viengphoukha District, Luang Namtha Province.

Smallholder farmers have responded to the pesticide management training and promotion of alternatives to chemical pesticides. Credit: Marco J Haenssgen/Unsplash

Integrated Pest Management

According to the ministry, the pilot is designed to demonstrate the effectiveness of a structured approach for the collection, interim storage, and environmentally sound management of empty pesticide containers.

“It also aims to strengthen institutional coordination among relevant government agencies, local authorities, and private sector stakeholders, while enhancing farmer awareness and compliance with recommended practices, including triple rinsing, segregation, and safe return mechanisms,” he said.

The project has supported awareness-raising and capacity building among local authorities, extension workers, and farmers on the risks associated with obsolete and banned pesticides, as well as on safe handling, repackaging, and temporary storage practices. In selected locations, pilot measures have been introduced to improve containment, labelling, and secure storage to minimise environmental and health risks.

Phengboupha says smallholder farmers in Lao PDR have generally responded positively to Integrated Pest Management (IPM) training and the promotion of alternatives to chemical pesticides supported by the FARM project. He added “training interventions have contributed to improved understanding of pest ecology, safer pesticide use practices, and the benefits of adopting non-chemical and low-toxicity control methods, including biological control, cultural practices, and mechanical measures.”

However, adoption rates vary depending on access to extension services, market pressures, availability of alternative inputs, and perceived short-term effectiveness of chemical pesticides.

“Constraints remain, including limited access to certified biopesticides, weak input supply chains for IPM alternatives, and continued reliance on agrochemical vendors for technical advice in some areas,” he added.

Note: The Eighth Global Environment Facility Assembly will be held from May 30 to June 6, 2026, in Samarkand, Uzbekistan.

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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Irene Velez Torres, Director of the Colombian National Environmental Agency, during a panel discussion with policy experts at the Santa Marta Conference. Credit: Supplied

By Umar Manzoor Shah
SRINAGAR, India, May 6 2026 (IPS)

The First Conference on Transitioning Away from Fossil Fuels in Santa Marta, Colombia, may eventually be remembered as a defining moment in global climate politics, not because it produced a treaty or a formal negotiation outcome, but because it changed the tone, structure, and ambition of the conversation itself.

For decades, international climate diplomacy has been about managing emissions, not addressing the source of those emissions: fossil fuels. Governments continued to discuss carbon markets, offsets and adaptation funds but so too did the growth in oil, gas and coal production. Within the UN climate process itself, producer nations and powerful economic interests often blocked direct discussion of phasing out fossil fuels. However, there was no such case as Santa Marta.

The conference, co-hosted by Colombia and the Netherlands and attended by delegates from almost 60 nations, was not intended to be another COP-style negotiation. It was explicitly designed as a political and practical platform for those countries willing to move faster on the fossil fuel phase-out. That makes a difference.

“This was not a negotiating conference. This is about dialogue and looking together at what we can do and how we can apply our creativity, our collaboration, and the science to find new opportunities,” said Stientje van Veldhoven-van der Meer, Dutch Climate and Green Growth Minister.

The conference’s most important accomplishment might be the single transition from negotiation to problem-solving.

Traditional COP summits often descend into exercises in diplomatic survival, with countries fighting over language late into the night and protecting narrow interests. In Santa Marta, ministers repeatedly stressed that participants were not there to defend positions but to create solutions.

“The contrast was stark,” said Minina Talia, Tuvalu’s Minister for Home Affairs, Climate Change and Environment.

“I’ve been to a lot of COPs over the years and I’ve never felt like this. More chilled, ready to go home. We are not here to bargain. We’re here to find solutions,” he told reporters on the concluding day of the conference.

For small island states like Tuvalu, where climate change is an existential threat now rather than a future risk, this difference is significant. It is the politics of survival.

Several Concrete Results

Ireland and Tuvalu will co-host a second conference, ensuring continuity and signalling a conscious North-South partnership. A dedicated science panel will support countries and regions in their transition away from fossil fuels. Three work streams were established: pathways to transition away from fossil fuels; decarbonisation of trade balances; and new financial mechanisms to finance the transition.

These are not symbols for deliverables. They went to the core of the politics of dependence on fossil fuels.

The biggest challenge in climate politics is no longer to prove that climate change is real. It’s trying to work out how countries that rely on fossil fuel revenues can survive the transition without economic collapse, social unrest or widening inequality.

That means dealing with debt, subsidies, tax systems, labour transitions, industrial planning and trade balances. The focus on financial architecture in Santa Marta is a sign of awareness on the part of the participants.

The debate over fossil fuel subsidies was particularly important. Ministers emphasised the need for transparency on the location of fossil fuel incentives, revenues and dependencies within national economies. This is important because fossil fuels are not just an energy issue. They’re so entrenched in national budgets, banking systems, foreign policy and power structures.

The war in the Middle East, the disruption of oil supplies and the general insecurity of world energy have hastened the need for change. But unlike previous oil crises, this time renewable energy is getting cheaper and cheaper compared to fossil fuels, and electric vehicles are scaling up very fast.

Participants argued that the war has revealed not the need for more oil drilling, but the danger of fossil fuel dependence itself.

“The war really opened up peoples’ eyes to how fragile the fossil fuel system is,” a speaker said. “And this war comes at a time when renewables are cheaper than fossil fuels.

This shifts the transition from a strictly environmental imperative to a strategic economic and security priority.

Action on climate is no longer simply about saving the planet. It’s about stabilising economies, reducing geopolitical vulnerability and avoiding the financial risks of stranded fossil assets.

The reason this is a powerful shift is that finance ministers tend to move faster than environment ministers.

Another remarkable strength of Santa Marta was its insistence on being inclusive. Indigenous Peoples, parliamentarians, peasants, women, NGOs and even children were brought into the heart of the conversation.

“This is a new climate democracy, where governments are no longer the only actors making climate decisions,” said Irene Velez Torres, Director of the Colombian National Environmental Agency.

One of the strongest interventions at the conference came from Indigenous representatives, who warned that a clean energy transition without land justice would simply mean another wave of colonial extraction. Their declaration rejects a future where extraction of fossil fuels is replaced by mining for transition minerals, mega dams or industrial projects imposed on Indigenous lands without consent.

“If we are not part of building the just transition and the phase-out of fossil fuels, it will not be just,” they said in a joint declaration at the end of the conference on April 29.

This revealed one of the deepest contradictions in global climate policy: many governments speak of a green transition but continue with extractive models under a new name.

Indigenous leaders demanded free, prior and informed consent, legal recognition of the rights to their territories, direct access to climate finance and protection for land defenders at risk of criminalisation and violence.

The Fossil Fuel Non-Proliferation Treaty initiative continues to be central. Tuvalu has been one of its earliest supporters, demanding a legally binding international framework to stop expansion and ensure a fair phase-out of fossil fuels.

Talia welcomed the treaty for raising the bar in terms of moral pressure and providing governments with clearer information but warned against limiting the whole transition conversation to one mechanism.

He said: “The treaty is an initiative. We want to look at all other initiatives so that we have a fair, balanced outcome.”

That’s a sign of strategic maturity. One treaty will not kill the most profitable industry in modern history.

These include UNFCCC processes, national policy, fossil fuel treaty mechanisms, regional declarations, central bank reforms and the involvement of financial institutions.

Participants highlighted China’s green lending strategies and said banking systems need to stop rewarding fossil fuel dependence and instead finance transition at scale.

Likewise, Pacific island nations are advocating for regional “fossil fuel-free zones”, supported by new declarations and intergovernmental task forces. These efforts matter because regional leadership often moves quicker than global consensus.

Hence, the choice of Tuvalu as the venue for the next conference is very significant. It’s shifting the discussion from the diplomatic capitals to one of the world’s most climate-vulnerable countries. It forces political leaders to confront the human reality of rising seas, disappearing land and threatened sovereignty.

History in the Making

Santa Marta won’t solve the fossil fuel crisis. It doesn’t stop new drilling. It does not yet impose binding obligations.But it may have done something more important, which is to make fossil fuel phase-out politically discussable at scale. For years, people saw talking straight about ending oil, gas, and coal as too radical, too unrealistic, or too politically dangerous. In Santa Marta it became the focus of the room.

If this coalition grows from 60 to 100 countries, if its outcomes feed into COP31 and national climate plans, if the finance systems start to shift, and if the Pacific conference deepens the legal momentum, then Santa Marta could be remembered not as a one-off summit but as the moment when climate diplomacy finally stopped treating the symptoms and started tackling the disease. That would be history.

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A street scene in Herat, where calls to reopen schools and universities for girls have exposed activists and educators to Taliban detention. Credit: Learning Together.

By External Source
HERAT, Afghanistan, May 5 2026 (IPS)

Qadoos Khatibi, an Afghan university lecturer, and Fayaz Ghori, a civil society activist, also from Afghanistan, were detained by the Taliban’s Ministry for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice. Their crime? Advocating for girls’ right to education.

Their arrest came as Afghanistan began a new academic year in the last week of March. Schools reopened across the country, but girls above primary school level remain barred from classrooms for the fifth consecutive year.

Khatibi had posted a video urging the Taliban to reopen educational institutions for girls, emphasizing that a country cannot develop without girls’ education. Ghori, for his part, had written that, “We are looking forward to the day when the doors of education will be opened for the girls of this country.”

In Afghanistan today, even civic, non-political advocacy can carry extreme risk. Critics and activists risk arrest, forced disappearance and sometimes worse, simply for sharing a video, writing a post, or speaking out. Online spaces are closely monitored, and critical voices are swiftly suppressed

Nearly five years have passed since the Taliban returned to power in Afghanistan, a period marked by the closure of secondary schools and universities to girls and women. During this time, girls’ education has come to a complete halt, and anyone who dares to speak out in protest often faces swift and harsh punishment.

Sediq Yasinzada, a civil society activist in Herat province and friend of both men, said they had spoken out against the closure of schools and universities for girls. They had shared posts on Facebook calling for the reopening of schools beyond grade six, and for universities to once again re-admit female students.

More than 2.2 million girls in Afghanistan are currently denied access to education due to restrictions, according to the United Nations Children’s Fund (Unicef), highlighting the magnitude of the problem.

In March this year, both men were summoned by the Taliban’s Ministry for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice in Herat. After interrogating them, they were handed over to Taliban intelligence. They spent 24 hours in detention, a fate that has become all too familiar for critics of the Taliban regime in Afghanistan.

This time, however, the response was different. Because Khatibi and Ghori are well-known figures in Herat, their detention sparked a wave of support on social media. Ordinary citizens, activists, and local influencers called for their immediate release, bringing the issue to a wider public attention.

Alongside the social media outcry, several local elders and influential figures intervened directly with the Taliban, and after about 24 hours, both men were released.

Sarwar Khan, a prominent elder from Herat, says he has repeatedly urged the Taliban in meetings to reopen schools. He is the father of four daughters, all of whom are now denied access to education. “Send your sons to study”, was the Taliban’s mocking response, fully aware that Sarwar Khan has no sons.

When he pointed out that he has no sons, and that education is a right for both women and men, he was threatened with expulsion or even imprisonment if he continued to speak.

After his release from detention, Khatibi shared a statement on Facebook that underscored the core of their demand:

“What we asked for was a human, national, and Islamic request… Knowledge is the foundation of development and does not conflict with religious values. Knowledge does not have a gender. Our women and girls have the right to education.”

The arrests of Qadoos Khatibi and Fayaz Ghori are not isolated incidents. They reflect a broader pattern in Afghanistan, where even peaceful advocacy for girls’ education can be treated as a crime. Families like Sarwar Khan’s, as well as activists and ordinary citizens, face constant threats simply for demanding a basic human right.

In Afghanistan today, even civic, non-political advocacy can carry extreme risk. Critics and activists risk arrest, forced disappearance and sometimes worse, simply for sharing a video, writing a post, or speaking out. Online spaces are closely monitored, and critical voices are swiftly suppressed.

Many men avoid protest not out of indifference, but out of fear. In a situation whereby university professors and civil society activists can be scrutinized and ultimately criminalized simply for sharing a video or written text, many choose silence.

Yet despite this environment of repression, women, girls, and some men continue to protest. In recent years, dozens of women have been detained for weeks or even months without access to lawyers or contact with their families simply for demanding a fundamental right to education.

Since the Taliban returned to power in August 2021, Afghanistan has entered a harsh new era. Progress made over two decades, during which millions of girls entered schools and universities, has abruptly halted. The closure of schools beyond grade six and the suspension of higher education have created not only an educational crisis, but also a deep social and human challenge. In this climate, any form of civic protest is met with security crackdowns, shrinking the space for public expression.

Taliban authorities have repeatedly detained critics and civil society activists over the past several years, particularly those who have spoken out against their policies.

Excerpt:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charges, Judgment and Allegations

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sense of loss extends well beyond individual cases.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Muted Response

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

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

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

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

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

An Uncertain Path

But even there, justice has remained elusive.

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

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

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

One hundred days on, that hope remains uncertain.

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

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

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

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Excerpt:

In the low tide, an i-Taukei fisherwoman gathers cockles along the Nasese sea wall in Fiji, a tradition weathered by time and tide. The assessment Climate Change Implications for Fisheries and Aquaculture in the Pacific Island Region looks at women’s contributions across fisheries and aquaculture systems, from harvesting to trade. Credit: Josh Kuilamu/SPC

By Sera Sefeti
SUVA, Fiji, May 4 2026 (IPS)

For generations, Pacific people have understood the ocean not as a resource but as identity, sustenance, and survival. Today, that relationship is being tested in ways science is only just beginning to fully capture.

For the first time in the region’s history, every Pacific Island country now has a clear, data-driven picture of what climate change will mean for its waters and its own Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ).

This shift marks more than just a scientific milestone. It is a turning point in how the Pacific can understand, manage, and defend its ocean in a rapidly changing climate.

From Regional Averages to National realities

The updated assessment, “Climate Change Implications for Fisheries and Aquaculture in the Pacific Island Region”, builds on a 14-year-old vulnerability study. But unlike its predecessor, this version moves beyond broad regional trends.

It goes deeper into country-specific realities.

In a region where ocean territories dwarf landmass, this matters. The Pacific controls around 27 million square kilometres of ocean, yet only about 2 percent of that is land. Fisheries are not just an industry – they are the backbone of economies, cultures, and food systems.

“This is quite amazing,” says SPC Climate Change Project Development Specialist Marie Lecomte, referring to the ability to assess climate impacts at the EEZ level. “The ocean is so big, and land masses are so tiny… it has always been very difficult to downscale ocean models to something meaningful for countries.”

Now, that gap is beginning to close.

Rising ocean temperatures and changing chemistry are reshaping marine ecosystems, impacting people’s livelihoods and national economies. Credit: Douglas Picacha/IPS

Why This Science Matters Now

For Pacific leaders, the climate crisis is not abstract. It is negotiated in global forums, defended in policy rooms, and lived daily in coastal communities.

Yet one persistent challenge has been the lack of evidence.

This report begins to change that.

It provides:

• Updated scientific data on ocean conditions
• Country-level projections of fisheries decline
• A clearer understanding of how climate change cascades from ocean systems into economies and livelihoods

In doing so, it transforms science into something actionable:

• A diagnostic tool showing what lies ahead
• A planning guide for adaptation
• A negotiation tool for global advocacy

For a region often described as the moral voice of climate negotiations, this evidence adds weight to that voice.

The Pacific controls around 27 million square kilometres of ocean, yet only about 2 percent of that is land. Now each country in the region will have a data-driven picture of the effects of climate change in its waters. Credit: Francisco Blaha/SPC

What the Science Reveals

The findings are sobering.

Rising ocean temperatures and changing chemistry are already reshaping marine ecosystems. The report maps, with unprecedented clarity, a chain reaction: warming waters alter fish biology, leading to fish stocks’ decline, which will ultimately result in the impact on people’s livelihoods and national economies.

At the centre of this crisis are coastal ecosystems, i.e. coral reefs, mangroves, and seagrass beds, the ecological foundations of Pacific fisheries.

These systems are under intense pressure from both climate change and human activity.

“For mangroves, they are also constrained by infrastructure development,” Lecomte explains. “If you build a new hotel, then you get rid of the mangrove.”

For scientists, the assessment Climate Change Implications for Fisheries and Aquaculture in the Pacific Island Region offers the most comprehensive dataset for policymakers and communities. Credit: John Nihahuasi/SPC

Across the Pacific, the risks are not evenly distributed.

Low-lying island nations, already facing sea-level rise and extreme weather, are doubly exposed. Their dependence on fisheries for food and income leaves little buffer against decline.

The consequences are stark:

• Reduced food security
• Declining incomes
• Increased vulnerability of coastal communities

Yet even in this “doom and gloom” narrative, the report resists fatalism. Instead, it offers a framework for adaptation and resilience.

However, in the Pacific, the situation is not starting from zero.

For centuries, communities have managed fisheries through customary practices like tabu areas, seasonal closures, and community governance.

The report reinforces these approaches while introducing new strategies:

• Climate-smart aquaculture
• Diversifying target species
• Improving value chains (earning more from less catch)
• Protecting and restoring coastal/blue ecosystems

It also highlights a critical but often overlooked dimension, which is women’s contributions across fisheries and aquaculture systems, from harvesting to trade work that remain under-recognised despite their central role.

Science, Power, and the Politics of Survival

Perhaps the most powerful implication of the report lies beyond science — in politics.

Despite being one of the most climate-impacted sectors, fisheries are largely absent from global climate negotiations.

This is where the findings become more than a report. It becomes leverage.

With pre-COP discussions and COP31 on the horizon, Pacific countries now have something they have long needed.

“If Pacific delegations can come to pre-COP saying we have the latest science… and we all agree on how we want to act with the regional climate change strategy for coastal fisheries being pre-endorsed,” Lecomte says, “it’s a unique chance to showcase fisheries as part of the ocean–climate nexus.”

Beyond the Data: A Call to Act

This report does not just document change but also demands a response.

It bridges worlds:

• Between science and storytelling
• Between policy and lived experience
• Between global negotiations and village shorelines

For scientists, it offers the most comprehensive dataset yet when it comes to the Pacific and its EEZ; for policymakers, it is a roadmap; for communities, it is a validation of what they already know.

That the ocean is changing and so must we.

But in that change lies something powerful. For the first time, the Pacific is not just speaking from experience. It is speaking with scientific evidence.

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Coastal villages throughout the Solomon Islands rely on selling fish for household incomes. Selling fish in Auki, Malaita Province, Solomon Islands. Credit: Catherine Wilson/IPS

By Catherine Wilson
SYDNEY, Australia, Apr 29 2026 (IPS)

It is an invisible contaminant that has been found in fisheries, an essential part of the food chain for many Pacific Islanders. Mercury, emitted from fossil fuel power generation and other industrial processes around the world, has now penetrated marine ecosystems in the Pacific Islands with detrimental consequences for people’s health and wellbeing.

But island states, supported by scientific expertise at the Secretariat of the Pacific Regional Environment Program (SPREP), the United Nations Environment Program (UNEP) and funding by the Global Environment Facility (GEF), the world’s largest multilateral fund  for the environment, are implementing the action needed. The Mercury Free Pacific campaign is forging progress to protect islanders and their natural habitats from poisoning.

“Our communities face mercury risks from two main sources: what we eat, fish, and what we use in our homes and workplaces,” Emelipelesa Sam Panapa, Chemical Management Officer at the Department of Environment in the Polynesian atoll island nation of Tuvalu, told IPS. “Fish is the most widespread and challenging risk. It is not just food; it is central to our culture, livelihood and food security.”

The Mercury Free Pacific Campaign has brought together Pacific Island nations and the expertise of the SPREP and UNEP and been made possible with funding by the GEF. Credit: GEF

Mercury is a natural element in the Earth that has been released into the atmosphere for millennia through volcanic events and rock erosion. But human-generated, mostly industrial, processes have accelerated the build-up of mercury emissions. Metal processing facilities, cement works, the production of vinyl monomer and coal-fired power stations are the biggest contributors to the high levels of mercury in the atmosphere today.

From 2010 to 2015 alone, global anthropogenic mercury emissions rose by 20 percent, reports the UNEP. Coal-burning processes account for about 21 percent of all emissions. And this is projected to increase if a further 1,600 planned coal-driven power stations, on top of the existing 3,700 worldwide, are built. Already mercury in the atmosphere is about 450 percent above natural levels, reports UNEP.

After travelling long distances, mercury emissions then deposit in oceans. And toxicity begins when natural bacteria in aquatic environments mix with mercury, transforming it into Methylmercury, which is a neurotoxin. In the Pacific region, Methylmercury has contaminated beaches, coral reefs and fisheries, including swordfish, shark, tuna and mackerel, that are commonly consumed daily. Seafood is an important source of protein for up to 90 percent of Pacific Islanders and contributes to cash-based livelihoods for about 50 percent, reports the Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO).

Today mercury is named one of the top ten chemicals of concern to public health by the World Health Organization (WHO) and the danger is especially acute in women and children. It can, in higher doses, inflict damage on cardiovascular organs, kidneys and the nervous systems of pregnant women and subsequently affect organ development of the foetus.

A fisherman on the coast of Funafuti, Tuvalu, throwing a weighted net out into the seawater, a traditional form of fishing. Credit: Rodney Dekker / Climate Visuals

The results of a medical study conducted by the Biodiversity Research Institute (BRI) confirmed health concerns.  Testing for traces of mercury in 757 women, aged 18-44 years, in the developing island states of the Caribbean, Indian and Pacific Oceans, including the Cook Islands, Tuvalu, Kiribati, Tonga and Marshall Islands, revealed that 58 percent possessed a level in their bodies that exceeded the safe threshold of 1ppm Hg. Researchers concluded the most likely cause was the high consumption of contaminated fish. In comparison, women who consumed lower amounts of fish and seafood recorded the lowest levels of mercury.

However, islanders also encounter toxicity in their households. Mercury is used in the production of common imported consumer products, such as fluorescent light tubes, electrical switches, dental amalgam fillings and skin lightening cosmetics. But it is when these products reach the end of their lives and are discarded that mercury is at risk of lingering indefinitely in the environment.

“The core of the problem is that mercury-added products are not being separated from municipal solid waste, and there are no local facilities for the environmentally sound disposal of mercury waste,” Soseala Tinilau, SPREP’s Hazardous Waste Management Advisor, told IPS. Also, “medical waste incineration sites are identified as potential sources of mercury emissions to the air.” And in some locations, raw sewerage flows have contributed mercury waste due to affected products being washed down drains into waterways and the sea.

A challenge is that waste management systems in many Pacific Island countries are constrained by lack of capacity, technology, resources and infrastructure. “There are no local facilities for the environmentally sound disposal of mercury waste. Therefore, a system for packing, exporting and disposing of this waste in an approved facility abroad is a critical need,” Tinilau specified.

Fisheries, susceptible to mercury contamination, are a major source of food and protein for Pacific Islanders. Fish market, Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea. Credit: Catherine Wilson/IPS

Several years ago, numerous Pacific Island states, including Kiribati, Palau, Tonga, Tuvalu and Vanuatu, joined the Minamata Convention. The first global agreement to reform the ways in which mercury is used, phase it out in industries and develop better waste management practices, among other measures, came into effect in 2017.

Now governments in the region are drawing further on the power of multilateral collaboration in the Mercury Free Pacific initiative. The expansive mandate of the GEF-funded project includes conducting national surveys of mercury contamination, educating local communities about the risks, reviewing exposure to mercury-added consumer products, reforming waste management practices and assisting governments to develop relevant legislation.

The GEF is funding US$12.6 billion in environmental projects currently underway globally, which are expected to generate a further US$80.5 billion in co-financing. And it has a long view of its commitment to the Mercury Free Pacific project through its GEF Islands program, with goals outlined until at least 2030.

Anil Bruce Sookdeo, the GEF’s coordinator for Chemicals and Waste, elaborated that in the Pacific the GEF has provided US$1.5 million for gathering mapping data, its analysis and developing action and remedial plans in eleven Pacific Island nations, including the Federated States of Micronesia, Samoa, Kiribati, Tuvalu and Vanuatu.

A further US$2 million is allocated to supporting national responses, such as devising effective legislation, community awareness programs and improving waste management processes. The campaign “represents a long-term regional objective, rather than a time-based project and requires sustained commitment and coordinated action by Pacific countries, regional institutions and partners,” he emphasised.

GEF funding has empowered Tuvalu, a country comprising nine coral islands and 11,800 people in the South Pacific, to make strides in its whole-of-society response to the issue.  The government has been able to strengthen its capacity and expertise, organise media awareness campaigns and oversee consultation with industries, communities and civil society organisations.

“For the first time, we have a national estimate of where mercury is coming from…we are beginning to understand the risks to our people and we have a roadmap for future action,” Panapa said in outlining the benefits of the Mercury Free Pacific initiative. At the same time, “these efforts represent the beginning of a longer journey to build community understanding and change behaviours related to mercury-added products, waste disposal and dietary choices.”

But a mitigation goal at the top of the list is to prevent mercury from reaching the islands. “Making marine life safe from mercury contamination is not about eliminating mercury already present in the ocean, but about preventing further contamination and managing the risk of exposure,” Tinilau said.

This means, among other measures, restricting the importation of mercury-added consumer products and galvanising global action to halt mercury emissions. Global consensus on phasing out coal-fired power stations and reforming industrial processes would be a start.

Pacific Island countries are demonstrating the political will and action with “regional coherence, national ownership and sustained momentum toward reducing mercury risks to human health, the environment and food systems in the Pacific,” emphasised Sookdeo from the GEF. Now, big emitters need to heed the urgency of reducing emissions at their source.

Notes: The Eighth Global Environment Facility Assembly will be held from May 30 to June 6, 2026, in Samarkand, Uzbekistan.
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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Bangladesh remains one of the most corrupt countries in the world. Its corruption perception index (CPI) score, 24, is 18 points below the global average score of 42, and 21 points lower than the Asia-Pacific region’s average of 45. One of the main sources of corruption is over-priced aid-funded projects as they lack competitive bidding. Projects funded through Government-to-Government deals drive up costs by more than 400% compared to more transparent alternatives, and around 35% of project costs are lost to corruption and inefficiency.

Anis Chowdhury

Complicity

Development partners – traditional and non-traditional – cannot deny their complicity. The most culpable is the World Bank, followed by the Asian Development Bank (ADB) and Japan International Cooperation Agency (JICA). The shares of Bangladesh’s external debt liabilities to them are around 29%, 23% and 18%, respectively, totalling 70% of total external debt. Russia and China are Bangladesh’s main non-traditional development partners, with their respective shares of total external debt at 11% and 7%. All donors offered loans rampantly to the fascist regime to achieve their strategic and business interest, ignoring its extensive corruption and wide-spread human rights violations.

The World Bank briefly demonstrated its adherence to responsible lending principles when it cancelled $1.2 billion IDA credit for the Padma Bridge project in 2012, citing high-level corruption allegations. But its lending subsequently increased as if to expiate itself for the cancellation of the Padma Bridge loan. Mr. Hasan, one of the most corrupt ministers in the deposed Hasina Government, boasted, “once the World Bank cancelled its credit to finance Padma Bridge but now [in 2023] it has proposed to provide $2.25 billion”. To embarrass (or absolve?) the Bank, Sheikh Hasina presented a picture of the Padma Multipurpose Bridge to World Bank President David Malpass at the loan signing ceremony.

While Dhaka boasted that the Padma Bridge project was “entirely funded” by the government, China Exim Bank in fact provided $2.67 billion preferential buyer’s credit. The project costed approximately $3.6-$3.9 billion, nearly 3 times the initial estimate of $1.2 billion (the amount sought from the World Bank), largely due to corruption. The cost over-run triggered crises in both the forex and local currency markets, leading to the erosion of the country’s foreign exchange reserves.

The International Monetary Fund (IMF) provided the lifeline at the dying hours of Hasina’s kleptocratic regime when it approved $4.7 billion in January 2023 with some vague conditionality, such as raising revenues, implementing structural reforms to create a conducive environment to expand trade and foreign direct investment, deepening the financial sector, and developing human capital.

The IMF chose to turn a blind eye to widespread corruption, including the looting of banks by the regime’s cronies, gross violations of human rights and election engineering to hold on to power. Can the IMF absolve itself of responsibility for enabling the survival of the collapsing repressive and corrupt regime to commit human rights violations and abuses during the mass uprising against it a year and half later?

Old habits die hard

Corruption in Bangladesh has deep roots; corruption’s tentacles have reached almost the entire body polity of the country to become a ‘social culture’. Nevertheless, the Interim Government, led by Nobel Laureate Professor Yunus, took some bold reform initiatives to strengthen the Anti-Corruption Commission (ACC) and the integrity of the financial sector.

Thus, it is deeply disappointing that the newly elected government replaced the highly professional central bank governor with a failed business person with no background in banking or international macroeconomics within the first week of assuming power. A loan defaulter himself, the new governor immediately relaxed the loan rules. The government also amended the Interim Government’s Bank Resolution Ordinance to allow the return of the restructured banks to previous owners who looted these banks.

These changes, together with the new government’s rejection of the Interim Government’s ordinances concerning the ACC, the independence of judiciary and the human rights commission, are clear signs of the old habits’ refusal to die and the persistence of corruption.

Another old habit, i.e., addiction to loans (so-called aid), denies to die. As of April 2026, the External Relations Division (ERD) of the Ministry of Finance has been instructed to look for up to $3 billion from development partners. Interestingly, the ERD’s main activity is foreign fund searching through its ‘fund searching committee’ which meets periodically to review (code name for naming and shaming section chiefs) its monthly loan signing targets. Instead, the ERD should have been focusing on fostering and strengthening economic relations – trade and investment – as its name implies.

One direct damage of aid addiction is the lethargy in mobilising domestic resources – Bangladesh’s tax-GDP ratio (around 7%) is not only low compared with the averages for low-income countries (13.5%) and middle-income countries (18.9%), but has also been declining from its peak of around 9% in 2012 since its borrowing from development partners accelerated.

Of course, the other collateral damage is the persistence of corruption. IMF research finds that countries with “voracious” and “fractious” politics divert large amounts of public resources to unproductive transfers to powerful interest groups.

Development partners’ responsible roles

All development partners – multilateral and OECD DAC members – ostensibly are in favour of “good governance”, meaning against corruption. The World Bank “considers corruption a major obstacle… to promoting shared prosperity”. The IMF views corruption as “a major obstacle to economic growth, stability, and development”. The ADB “maintains a zero-tolerance stance against corruption, viewing it as a major obstacle to development, poverty reduction, and economic growth”.

Unfortunately, the evidence of their complicity presented above tells a different story from their avowed anti-corruption posture. This casts doubt on their role as development partners. Global evidence shows that donors do not systematically allocate aid to less corrupt countries.

The citizens of the country expect that development partners remain true to their declared anti-corruption stance and advance concessional loans provided the government commits to strict monitorable anti-corruption measures and deep structural reforms. In particular, urgently needed funds should be considered if:

• Ordinances of the Interim Government designed to strengthen anti-corruption measures, protect human rights and ensure judicial independence are ratified by the Parliament;
• amendments to the Bank Resolution Ordinance are repealed; and
• a professionally competent and experienced person with high integrity is appointed as central bank governor.

To achieve deep structural reform, the focus should be on strengthening domestic revenue mobilisation and reorientation away from the aid-dependent development model to a trade and investment led development model. Therefore, development partners should open up their markets, encourage investment in productive sectors and help develop Bangladesh’s productive capacity.

On the other hand, if they remain complicit and advance loans in a highly corruption-prone environment, any future pro-people government will have the right to declare such loans as “odious” and to refuse repayment obligation.

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

IPS UN Bureau

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Credit: Phil Nijhuis/ANP via AFP

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Apr 27 2026 (IPS)

Yasmin Ullah, from Myanmar’s persecuted Rohingya minority, is determined to see justice. On 13 April, she filed a complaint alleging genocide against Myanmar’s president, Min Aung Hlaing, to Indonesia’s Attorney General’s Office. Min Aung Hlaing led the 2021 coup that ousted a democratically elected government and this month was named president following a sham election held amid intense repression, rubber stamping the army’s continuing grip on power. However secure he appears in his position, Yasmin Ullah’s legal action offers hope his impunity may not be guaranteed.

The complaint accuses Min Aung Hlaing of genocide against Rohingya people, a predominantly Muslim ethnic group denied citizenship despite being long established in Myanmar. He’s accused of being responsible for the burning of Rohingya villages, forced evictions, killings and mass rape in a 2017 military operation, during which around 24,000 Rohingya people were killed and over 700,000 forced to flee. The UN’s fact-finding mission and its Independent Investigative Mechanism for Myanmar have extensively documented atrocities. Civil society has played a key role in gathering testimonies from survivors and preserving evidence.

The case was made possible by changes to Indonesia’s criminal code that came into effect in January. While civil society has raised concerns about revisions to other parts of the code that restrict Indonesian people’s ability to speak out and protest, this particular change stands out as a positive development, enabling people to bring charges against alleged perpetrators of atrocities in other countries under the principle of universal jurisdiction.

Universal jurisdiction on the rise

Universal jurisdiction applies to crimes under international law, such as genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes, on the grounds that these crimes are an offence against humanity as a whole and as such aren’t bound by borders.

Some states, including France and Germany, have passed laws to enable universal jurisdiction prosecutions. Many powerful states however still refuse to recognise the principle, citing national sovereignty, the long-established doctrine of immunity for heads of state and the potential for prosecutions to be politically motivated.

Yet the question of whether government leaders should be immune from prosecution has increasingly been contested. Immunity wasn’t granted when leaders of Sierra Leone and former Yugoslavia were prosecuted for crimes committed during civil wars, and the Rome Statute, which established the International Criminal Court (ICC), removed the principle of immunity where it has jurisdiction. Ironically, the Trump administration, which resists international accountability over its officials, may have contributed to further eroding the doctrine of immunity by abducting Venezuela’s president Nicolás Maduro and placing him on trial for drug trafficking.

Universal jurisdiction cases have increased since the end of the Cold War. Belgium, Finland and Germany convicted people for their role in the Rwanda genocide. Switzerland secured the first guilty verdict for crimes committed in the Liberian civil war, while France convicted another Liberian war criminal in 2022. Germany convicted a Bosnian paramilitary soldier of genocide and, in 2021 and 2022, found two Syrian officials guilty of atrocity crimes.

Hopes of justice

Rohingya people have no hope of justice in a country that refuses even to recognise them as citizens, so diaspora civil society organisations are seeking it wherever they find opportunities. In 2025, an Argentinian court issued arrest warrants against Min Aung Hlaing and other senior Myanmar officials on crimes against humanity and genocide charges, in a case brought by a Rohingya organisation. Earlier this year, a human rights organisation filed a criminal case against the Myanmar regime in Timor-Leste. When authorities appointed a senior prosecutor to examine the case, Myanmar retaliated by expelling Timor-Leste’s ambassador.

These efforts complement proceedings in international courts. In 2024, the ICC issued an arrest warrant against Min Aung Hlaing for crimes against humanity, while in January, hearings began at the International Court of Justice in a case brought by the Gambian government accusing Myanmar of breaching the Genocide Convention. It isn’t a question of choosing between national jurisdictions and international courts, but rather of taking every avenue available to demand justice.

Universal jurisdiction has its limits. Those accused tend to be safe when they hold power; when states have successfully prosecuted perpetrators, it’s after they’ve lost the power that enabled their crimes. Currently, this means attempts to hold Israel’s leaders accountable for the genocide in Gaza, such as arrest warrants a Turkish court issued against 37 officials, only have symbolic value. Cases motivated by political point-scoring also risk discrediting the principle, as when a body created by Malaysia’s former prime minister Mahathir Mohamad found an array of US officials guilty in absentia, without legal basis or consequence.

Actions under universal jurisdiction, when targeted at evident offenders, can nonetheless help build moral pressure and signal that justice may eventually come. At a time when the brutal and illegitimate Myanmar regime is buttressed by China, India and Russia, and with the USA easing its pressure in pursuit of economic benefits, it matters that other countries keep holding the line, isolating the junta and exposing its atrocities.

It matters all the more when pressure comes from Southeast Asian countries, depriving the Myanmar regime of the excuse that human rights accountability is a western imposition. Two members of the Association of Southeast Asian nations, Indonesia and Timor-Leste, have now taken action against a fellow member. But other attempts in the region have faltered. Philippine authorities declined to proceed when five survivors of atrocities filed a case in 2023, while an investigation civil society filed with Indonesia’s national human rights commission that same year, alleging that Indonesian companies were supplying military equipment to Myanmar, has so far seen no progress.

As 2026 president of the UN Human Rights Council, Indonesia is uniquely placed to take the lead in the pursuit of justice for atrocity crimes. Indonesian authorities must treat this case as a priority and give it the attention and resources it needs.

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 Gen Z-led protests in Nepal with Abhijeet Adhikari (Abhi), a lawyer and political activist who took part in the protests.

Abhijeet Adhikari

What drove young people onto the streets, and what were their demands?

Since this protest was decentralised, there was no uniform agenda but rather a pile of frustrations with the workings of the political system.

A decade ago, Nepal introduced a new federal democratic constitution that people saw as a new beginning that would lead to development and better living conditions. But politicians didn’t live up to those aspirations and instead played a game of musical chairs with the post of prime minister, with a few politicians from the three biggest political parties taking turns and not allowing new parties or people in their own parties to rise against them. There was no clear separation between government and opposition, and five or six governments would rotate in quick succession during one parliamentary term. It was hard to hold anybody accountable.

Nepal’s economy is highly dependent on remittances sent by migrant workers, and following high school, every young person thinks about where to go to find a job or a better life. This went on for years, and frustration with politicians who only thought about their own benefit continued to accumulate.

The trigger was the government social media ban. Following a trend in Bangladesh and Sri Lanka, young people had started comparing their lives with those of politicians’ kids, and a trend called ‘nepokids’ exposing their lavish lifestyle went viral on TikTok. It seems that security agencies advised the then-prime minister that things might get out of control, so he decided to ban the platforms. He didn’t realise our generation was born with the internet and social media, meaning we know how to use VPNs to access the web. The ban only added another layer of frustration at not being able to express our frustration.

Once we were on the streets, we organised our demands. The first was the reversal of the social media ban. The second was an end to the musical chairs game between top-tier politicians. And the third was reform of the Commission for Investigation of Abuse of Authority, the institution that deals with corruption.

We tried to put all of this in language young people would connect with. We used AI tools to generate Gen Z-friendly slogans, such as ‘delete corruption’ and ‘stop putting filters on our democracy’. People also brought anime-inspired posters, particularly One Piece characters. The whole aesthetic was very uniquely Gen Z.

How did events unfold on 8 and 9 September?

We gathered at Maitighar Mandala, a symbolic monument located in the heart of Kathmandu, and planned to march to the Everest Hotel, which is the closest you could get to the parliament building, as the streets beyond the hotel were blocked. When we arrived, we were surprised there were very few security personnel there. We didn’t know that earlier, people had come towards parliament from various sides, with electric fence-cutting machines and kerosene. A few violent groups pushed the crowd towards restricted areas. The police, who weren’t prepared to handle the crowds, panicked and started shooting at protesters. Within four hours, they killed 19 people, including children, some of them in their school uniforms.

Before the protest, there had been rumours of international rules prohibiting shooting at people in school uniforms, and many people thought that if students marched in front, police wouldn’t shoot at them. That sadly wasn’t the case.

The next day, people took to the streets again, and some opportunist groups did too. Someone put up a website with politicians’ home addresses, and mobs marched to their homes and set them on fire. They also burned down government buildings, including parliament, executive offices and the Supreme Court.

The prime minister resigned and protesters pushed for the dissolution of parliament, which the president then did. Following further pressure on social media and in critical circles, a retired Supreme Court judge was brought in as transitional prime minister. Even though this was not the constitutional process, people accepted it as a temporary solution to regain political stability, and it was this prime minister who paved the way to a peaceful and fair election.

How were the protests organised, and what role did social media play?

Protests were decentralised. Two Discord channels were used, which no longer exist because all those violent plans, arson included, were discussed there. But only around 2,000 people were on Discord before the protest, and many more groups joined spontaneously. Those who were already activists posted about the protests on social media.

Some of us joined as a group, and thought we were at the centre of it, but when we reached Maitighar, we felt like drops in the ocean. It was a massive protest, and we didn’t know who was leading it.

The day before, we had got together and planned, and many other groups did the same. We shared the call through Instagram and TikTok. Some went to schools and asked school departments to give a half-day waiver so students could join.

After the protest, the Discord channel grew to around 10,000 people, who started voting on Discord for who should become prime minister. The person who received the most votes on Discord eventually became prime minister. It was a very Gen Z way of doing politics.

However, I think ‘youth-led’ would be a more appropriate label than Gen Z protest. Gen Z might be accurate from the perspective of social media driving it. But while people in the city who have access to the internet may have Gen Z characteristics, the same age group in rural Nepal may not fit the description.

What risks did you and other protesters face?

On the first day, when we reached the Everest Hotel and saw the crowd push further, I was aware I should not go beyond that point. But when we heard on social media that people were entering the parliament building, we ran through another alley. A special task force police officer, there to guard the parliament building, loaded his gun and pointed it directly at me. But he didn’t fire.

After the protest turned violent, the police searched every place where protesters could be hiding, taking people out and beating them. From around noon un late night, eight or nine of us hid in a cubicle. It was dangerous to go back home, because there were lots of police in civilian clothes on the streets. During those two or three days when the army had effectively taken over and there was no functioning government, we had reason to believe our phones were being monitored.

Now there are people in prison and facing criminal charges for throwing stones or making TikTok content while the parliament building was burning. But those who manipulated the crowds and instigated violence supposedly in the name of the movement do not seem to be facing consequences.

How has the movement organised since the protests?

After the protest, people from different circles started forming their own Gen Z groups. There are over 40 now. A few of them, including Gen Z Alliance, Gen Z Civic Forum and Gen Z Front, are still active. Some have remained informal, some have registered as non-governmental organisations and some have formed political parties, although they didn’t receive a significant share of the vote. These are the ones who positioned themselves as guardians of the Gen Z movement, but not in terms of the aspirations and values we actually had.

People continue to take to the streets because the Karki Commission, formed to investigate who is responsible for the 19 deaths on 8 September and for the arson and vandalism on 9 September, has submitted a huge report, but the government has not yet released it. This has happened before: in the 1990s, when democracy was restored, a similar committee, the Malik Commission, produced a similar report that was never made public. In the 2006 transition, the report by the Rayamajhi Commission wasn’t made public either. People won’t have it again and are demanding transparency.

What did the protests achieve, and what lessons have you taken from them?

I believe more in institutions and processes than in charismatic figures and results. So I think it would have been best not to dissolve parliament. By the second day of protests, we could have pushed for any law we wanted, because parliamentarians’ morale was so low that they would have agreed to almost anything protesters demanded. Instead, we demanded the dissolution of parliament.

Negotiations should have been held mostly by the president’s office as the only legitimate institution after the prime minister’s resignation, but instead, the army dominated negotiations. That was another blunder. The negotiation process itself should have been taken into public discussion. After that, the focus should have been on reforming the party system and making the system more accountable, but instead, we thought everything would change if new people were brought in. The problem is that the new will eventually become old, and any new party that doesn’t create radically different structures will end up like the old political parties.

I also think that when it comes to protest, organised leadership is best, because in decentralised structures no one can be held accountable if things go wrong. Also, they allow people to push their own agendas and the real demands of protests risk being lost.

Additionally, I am concerned that while bottom-up protests arising from rural areas may produce more inclusive and progressive results, urban-centred protests arising in reaction to governance failure and lack of economic opportunity may end up leading to polarisation and the rise of authoritarian figures. After this protest, political dynamics have shifted towards delivery. People have started demanding meritocracy, forgetting all about inclusion. Even if this government successfully delivers on people’s aspirations, it could be like the government in India, providing good infrastructure but dismantling political institutions, disrupting the social fabric and promoting religious extremism.

How do you see the future of Nepal’s democracy?

Right now, people have put their expectations and trust in a single person, while trust in institutions is shrinking by the day. Even civil society has lost credibility. Two decades ago, civil society was at the forefront of the change that took Nepal from monarchy to republic. But gradually, civil society leaders have been discredited. Civil society is mostly a launching pad for politics; people don’t remain there for long. Most prominent civil society leaders have become members of parliament for one party or another.

If this government fails, people will start thinking about bringing back the old monarch. Authoritarian nostalgia will take over. I am also concerned about political radicalisation taking on ethnic or religious dimensions, particularly given the fundamentalist elements active along the border with India.

As for the protests, I think the government will continue to allow people to come out in the street, but it won’t listen to our 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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Gen Z protests: new resistance rises CIVICUS | State of Civil Society Report 2026
Nepal’s Gen Z electoral revolution CIVICUS Lens 19.Mar.2026
Nepal’s Gen Z uprising: time for youth-led change CIVICUS Lens 10.Oct.2025

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The period after Armenia’s 2018 “Velvet Revolution” maintains a fragile status which presents both substantial democratic and feminist achievements and rising internal and external international pressures.

Gulnara Shahinian, Founder & Director, Democracy Today

The Women, Peace, and Security agenda in Armenia shows progress through its needs of bigger changes. According to Shahinian, the current National Action Plan of the country demonstrates its participatory approach because civil society members helped create it. Shahinian considers this moment to be the most important time, she said “this is the first time that NGOs have taken part in implementation work. The government accepted the action plan as it was without changes. People who create this method of ownership work together to establish their rights beyond permanent presence to full active involvement. NGOs have shifted from their previous role as side organizations to become key partners in developing public policy,” Shahinian said.

The national action plan, according to Shahinian, established its first dedicated section to address diaspora participation. “They are part of our independent statehood. The knowledge and experience of these people will help to build our future developments. The expanded participation model enables Armenia to handle its domestic and international issues more effectively.”

Women who previously faced restrictions now participate in law enforcement and diplomacy and governance roles. Shahinian explains this as a fundamental transformation, “we passed through not only quantitative changes, but qualitative changes, the quality of roles for women has been changed.” The most pronounced transformation in security concepts shows itself through the changing security definitions which Armenia has adopted. The 2020 conflict with Azerbaijan compelled the country to confront its national identity crisis which particularly affected displaced women who lost their loved ones. Shahinian explains that women began to understand the connection between human security and democracy development for their cities. This brought about new ways for society to approach decision making processes. “Security now extends beyond its previous definition which focused on military aspects to include human rights and protection and fundamental service delivery rights,” Shahinian states.

The increasing number of women who work in defense demonstrates the new trend that exists in society. Shahinian says that women join the military because they choose to do so instead of needing to fulfill any requirements: “Women go to the army because they speak about equality, and equality means responsibility.” She explains that their organization works to create a more compassionate military system which protects people through non-violent methods instead of using weapons.

Armenia’s democratic and feminist development path remains unpredictable, and both its internal factors and external forces will shape its progress. The ongoing Iranian war has created multiple dangers which include trade disruptions inflation and the possibility of people fleeing the country. Armenia stays mostly out of the conflict yet its location exposes the country to potential spillover effects.

The crisis coincides with the timing of Armenia’s scheduled political events. Armenia has made democratic advancements yet the country now experiences increasing difficulties within its own borders. Citizens face restrictions on their rights to protest as authorities use more legal methods against their opponents. Reports of journalist mistreatment and increased police activity during demonstrations.

Certain factors provide grounds for optimistic but careful expectations. A younger generation, Shahinian notes, is deeply committed to democratic values: “They are speaking the language of human rights, they know what freedom means. Women remain at the forefront of these efforts to maintain progress. Women actively participate in community organizing and national policymaking to redefine security and governance practices.”

Armenia’s experience shows a wider lesson because it demonstrates how democracy develops through different paths which cannot be predicted. The process of democracy requires public participation because different forces fight against it while dedicated individuals work to protect and reinvent democratic systems. The country faces a decisive political period which will determine its future based on its ability to build permanent strength through systems that include all people and through ongoing dedication to security based on human needs.

“The only way for Armenia to survive is democracy,” Shahinian emphasizes. “And that’s what we will be fighting for.”

Sania Farooqui is an independent journalist and host of The Peace Brief, a platform dedicated to amplifying the voices of women in peacebuilding and human rights.

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Safe cities cannot be built on a foundation of exclusion. They are built on trust, dignity, and the right to exist without fear. Credit: Shutterstock

By ElsaMarie D’Silva and Harish Iyer
MUMBAI, India, Apr 22 2026 (IPS)

On 30 March, the eve of Transgender Day of Visibility, the Transgender Persons Amendment Act, 2026 became law in India, narrowing who can be recognized as transgender and requiring individuals to have their identity verified by authorities. This bill risks placing already vulnerable people under deeper scrutiny while destabilizing the informal systems of care they rely on.

India’s earlier law – the Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act, 2019 – included provisions that criminalized abuse and explicitly prohibited forcing a transgender person to leave their home, recognizing the vulnerability many face within families.

The idea of a “safe home” is often tested at one’s own front door. Harish saw this first-hand. The family of Kamal (name changed), a young trans man, only recognised his sex assigned at birth, female, and forced him into a marriage with a man for “correction,” subjecting him to repeated sexual violence. He escaped to safety, Harish’s apartment in Mumbai. When his abusers tracked him down, pounding on the door and threatening to drag him back, Harish stood his ground. That cramped apartment did what the system would not: it kept a survivor alive.

When transgender individuals can feel safe in their identity, they are more likely to seek help, report abuse, and participate fully in public life. This is why we must urgently revisit the 2026 amendments, ensuring they uphold self-identification, protect chosen families, and strengthen, rather than undermine, the conditions for safety

The 2026 amendments risk weakening these protections. Consider this: a young transgender person leaves an unsafe home, as Kamal did, and finds shelter with a friend or within a community network. In practice, these arrangements often exist outside formal legal recognition. Under a system that prioritizes biological families and requires official validation of identity, such support can be treated as informal, illegitimate, or even suspect.

The consequence is chilling. The very act of offering refuge can come under scrutiny, creating fear for those who open their doors and uncertainty for those seeking safety. Instead of strengthening protection, the law risks reinforcing the power of those who cause harm. Many people, unlike Harish, might not want to take the risk.

This is not just a legal shift. It is a shift in who feels safe to survive.

For many LGBTQIA+ people, especially transgender youth, home is not where you are born. It is where you are accepted. The amendment destabilizes that sense of safety.

Another concern is how the amended law introduces certification processes that require transgender individuals to have their identity validated by authorities. Let us consider the implications. If a transgender person is assaulted, how do they approach a police station when the same system questions their identity? If your identity must be approved, your credibility is already compromised.

From experience, we know that when trust in institutions declines, reporting declines, and when reporting declines, perpetrators operate with greater impunity. This is how violence scales, not through dramatic acts, but through systemic silence.

Indeed, through Red Dot Foundation’s Safecity platform, we have mapped over 130,000 reports of sexual and gender-based violence, and one pattern is unmistakable: violence concentrates where protection is weakest.

In Haryana, for example, Safecity data revealed harassment hotspots near alcohol shops along highways, areas where women reported routine intimidated. When this data was shared with the police, it prompted discussions on restricting alcohol consumption zones and increasing oversight.

What this demonstrates is critical: when lived experiences are made visible, institutions are better positioned to respond. Safety improves not through individual vigilance alone, but through systemic awareness and action.

This is what prevention looks like.

On the other hand, when laws increase stigma or make identity harder to assert, they weaken the very systems that enable such responses. Policies that increase barriers do not reduce violence, instead they drive it underground. Safety must be understood as a public good, designed through inclusive laws, responsive institutions, and community trust.

India’s Constitution guarantees equality, dignity, and personal liberty. These are not abstract ideals – they are the operating conditions for safe societies. When the state introduces identity verification processes that undermine autonomy and dignity, it is not just limiting rights.

It is weakening the systems that prevent violence.

This is not only India’s story. From parts of the United States to Europe, we see increasing attempts to regulate gender identity and restrict bodily autonomy – whether through limits on healthcare access, increased scrutiny of identity, or complex legal recognition processes. These policies are often framed as administrative safeguards. But their impact is consistent – they erode trust, isolate communities, and increase exposure to harm.

To change this, governments must:

• uphold self-identification as a fundamental principle of dignity
• ensure that support systems, formal or informal, are protected, not penalized
• invest in data-driven approaches that surface, rather than suppress, lived experiences of violence

We have seen what works. When institutions listen, when communities are trusted, when dignity is non-negotiable – violence reduces. When transgender individuals can feel safe in their identity, they are more likely to seek help, report abuse, and participate fully in public life. This is why we must urgently revisit the 2026 amendments, ensuring they uphold self-identification, protect chosen families, and strengthen, rather than undermine, the conditions for safety.

Safe cities cannot be built on a foundation of exclusion. They are built on trust, dignity, and the right to exist without fear.

ElsaMarie D’Silva (she/her) is the founder of Red Dot Foundation and creator of Safecity, a global platform that crowdsources data on gender-based violence to inform safer cities. She is an Aspen New Voices Fellow, Yale World Fellow, and Visiting Fellow at the Centre for Protecting Women Online at the Open University, UK.

Harish Iyer (he/she) is a renowned equal rights activist and a gender fluid trans person. He is a veteran campaigner and moved Supreme Court in landmark cases, including the decriminalization of Section 377, Marriage Equality, and LGBTQIA+ blood donation rights. He works at the intersection of law and social justice to build a more equitable society.

A woman sits in a public space in Kabul. Under new Taliban laws, a wife who visits her relatives without her husband's permission faces up to three months in prison. Credit: Learning Together.

By External Source
KABUL, Apr 21 2026 (IPS)

The Taliban have announced new laws that effectively legalise domestic violence against women and children. Afghanistan’s supreme leader, Mullah Hibatullah Akhundzada, signed a decree introducing a new criminal code in January. It contains three parts, ten chapters, and 119 articles that legalise violence, codify social inequality, and introduce punitive measures widely condemned as a return to slavery.

“The laws are yet another attack on women and they blatantly violate human rights,” says Mitra (name changed for privacy), a women’s rights activist based in Afghanistan.

The laws, which were leaked to the public by various organizations and media outlets, have left people, especially women, in shock. Yet they are unable to act or even raise their voices. Under the new code, opposing or speaking negatively about Taliban rule is considered a crime and can lead to criminal punishment.

According to Article 32 of the Taliban’s penal code, husbands have the right to physically discipline their wives and children. As long as no bones are broken and no visible bleeding occurs, man’s actions are not considered a crime and carry no criminal punishment.

Even if it is proved in court that violence inflicted on a woman has caused visible injuries or broken bones, the man faces a maximum sentence of only 15 days in prison.

This Taliban law has effectively legalized domestic violence and blocked women’s access to justice.

According to Article 32 of the Taliban’s penal code, husbands have the right to physically discipline their wives and children. As long as no bones are broken and no visible bleeding occurs, man’s actions are not considered a crime and carry no criminal punishment

According to Article 34 of the Taliban’s penal code, if a woman repeatedly visits her father’s home or relatives without her husband’s permission and does not return to her husband’s house, this is considered a crime for both the woman and her family members. The punishment can be up to three months in prison.

A husband has the right to violently assault his wife if she disobeys, according to the new law.

This Taliban decree forces women to remain in their homes under all circumstances, even in the face of threats and domestic violence. Women can no longer seek protection or shelter in their own family homes.

According to documents from the human rights organization Rawadari, the Taliban’s penal code, was signed into law by Mullah Hibatullah Akhundzada on January 7, 2026, and subsequently distributed to provincial judicial institutions for implementation.

The decrees issued by the Taliban are usually kept secret within their judicial institutions and communicated to the public only through mosques and community elders. The public learns of them only when the media and rights organization gain access and publish them.

Taliban rule has effectively divided Afghan society into four classes, with punishment for a crime determined not by the nature of the crime but by the offender’s social status. At the top are religious scholars, who receive advice and caution rather than criminal punishment.

Next comes the elite, which includes those in the ruling class, such as village elders and wealthy merchants. They are subject to a lighter punishment scale and usually avoid prison sentences, for example.

The middle class faces more severe punishment. At the bottom of the ladder is the lower class whose punishment can include public flogging and harsh prison terms.

The new law also employs a term referring to slaves as distinct from free people. Slavery was officially abolished in Afghanistan in 1923. Under the new code, treating people as slaves is back to normal practice. For example, a master has the legal right to discipline his subordinate and a husband his wife. It effectively dismantles the principle of equality before the law.

Mitra says these Taliban laws are a clear attack on women and violate all their human rights. By enforcing these rules, the Taliban have confined women to the four walls of their homes, forcing them to endure any kind of abuse in silence.

“What the Taliban have stated in Articles 32 and 34 makes your hair stand on end. The Taliban see women only as sexual objects. These laws legitimise all forms of violence against women, and they cannot even seek justice or take refuge in their father’s or brother’s home. In effect, this officially imprisons women under the full weight of domestic violence,” she says.

All these provisions were drafted without discussion and have come into force with little discussion and no public input. Their existence only became known when the human rights organization Rawadari obtained the laws and published them on its Pashtun language website. Soon after being signed, they were immediately sent to the provinces to be processed by Taliban-run courts.

As Maryam, a resident of Ragh District in Badakhshan, points out, once the Taliban’s laws are announced in mosques by the local mullahs, they are immediately enforced in districts and villages, and all cases are judged under those rules.

“Most people in our village are illiterate, and even those who are educated or know about women’s rights cannot say anything out of fear. If they even utter one word, the local people turn against them, and trouble follows. Women are forced to accept whatever their husbands say because they have no other choice,” she says.

Since the Taliban took control of Afghanistan, they have been issuing and enforcing decrees and laws that have consistently violated human rights, confining women to the four walls of their homes. But this time, they have gone further, granting legal legitimacy to all forms of violence against women.

Mitra is calling on all human rights organizations and the international community to stand against the Taliban’s actions and not allow them to drag women into a system of slavery from the early centuries. She warns that if the world does not stand with Afghan women, they will be pushed toward destruction and face a major humanitarian catastrophe.

Excerpt:

A sea turtle is released from the hatchery in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh to begin its hazardous journey to the sea. Credit: UNDP Bangladesh

By Rafiqul Islam
COX'S BAZAR, Bangladesh, Apr 20 2026 (IPS)

Every winter thousands of sea turtles come ashore at Cox’s Bazar, in the Bay of Bengal, Bangladesh, to lay eggs.

Their path to their breeding grounds is hazardous – fishing nets, propellers, light pollution, coastal developments, stray dogs and other dangers conspire against their success.

The area is rich in biodiversity, with five out of seven ancient reptiles present in Bangladesh’s waters, with three – the Olive Ridley (Lepidochelys olivacea), the Green Turtle (Chelonia mydas), and the Hawksbill (Eretmochelys imbricata) – coming ashore for nesting.

Stefan Liller, UNDP Bangladesh representative, gently releases the young turtles from the hatchery. Credit: UNDP Bangladesh

Amid such unfavourable odds for the aquatic creatures, a group of young people volunteer to protect the turtles on the beach at Cox’s Bazar during the breeding season from November to March, contributing to their successful conservation.

“In the past, we did not know how sea turtles help conserve marine ecosystems. Now we know sea turtles play an important role in conserving biodiversity,” Rezaul Karim, a resident of Shafir Beel village in Cox’s Bazar, told Inter Press Service (IPS).

Karim is one of the youths trained for sea turtle conservation under a project run by the Arannayk Foundation, a non-profit conservation organisation in Bangladesh. The foundation established a sea turtle conservation group involving 25 local youths (11 women, 14 men) under its Ecosystem Awareness and Restoration Through Harmony (EARTH) project. EARTH is supported by the Forest Department, the Department of Environment (DoE), and the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) with funding from the Global Environment Facility (GEF).

A youth group performs a play designed to sensitise the community to conservation issues. Credit: Arannayk Foundation

The group is working to raise awareness about sea turtle conservation among fishermen, youth, and the local community. They are also aiming to encourage a shift in local attitudes by engaging community members.

Group leader Delwar Hossain, a resident of Sonarpara village under Ukhyia upazila, said sea turtles play a crucial role in maintaining marine ecosystems, as different species of sea turtles help sweep or clean the ocean by managing various food sources and habitats.

He said there is a superstition among the marine fishermen that if turtles are caught in their fishing gear, it will bring bad luck and that is why they kill turtles caught in their nets.

“We held meetings with the fishermen several times and made them aware of sea turtle conservation,” Delwar said.

Turtle conservation group leader Delwar Hossain with others on Cox’s Bazar Beach, Bangladesh. Credit: Rafiqul Islam/IPS

Gabriella Richardson Temm, Lead of the Small Grants Program at the GEF, says civil society, Indigenous Peoples, local communities, and youth and women groups around the world “play critical roles in shaping global development agendas. They deliver transformational solutions to global environmental problems, bring rights holders and marginalised voices into national policy dialogues, and elevate local priorities in international environmental negotiations and financing.”

The small grants program has served as a cornerstone of civil society engagement within the GEF partnership since its inception in 1992.

“Over three decades, the program has demonstrated remarkable reach and impact, administering over US$1.5 billion through nearly 30,000 grants to Indigenous Peoples, local communities, women, and youth across 136 countries. This extensive network has successfully secured US$990 million in co-financing, demonstrating the program’s effectiveness in mobilising additional resources for environmental action at the grassroots level,” says Temm.

Grassroots community protection has been acknowledged as contributing to the success of moving one of the sea turtles – the green turtle – to the International Union for Cons

ervation of Nature’s (IUCN) ‘Least Concern’ list. Other factors include international trade bans, reduced poaching, and improved fishing gear.

However, the species predominantly nesting in the Cox’s Bazar beaches, the Olive Ridley is classified as ‘Vulnerable’ on the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species, while the Hawksbill Turtle remains ‘Critically Endangered’ due to population declines.

Many sea turtles don’t survive the hazardous journey to the nesting grounds at Cox’s Bazar Beach, Bangladesh. Credit: Bangladesh Forest Department

Establishment of Turtle Hatchery

In Cox’s Bazar, with the help of the foundation, the youth group surveyed a 10 km stretch from Reju Khal to Balia Khali beach to identify sea turtle nesting sites. It also gathered insights from local communities on sea turtle breeding seasons, nesting frequency, preferred locations, and community perceptions regarding conservation.

Following the assessment, a sea turtle hatchery was established in Boro Inani, Cox’s Bazar. The hatchery is now playing a crucial conservation role, as these statistics show.

Between January and April 2024, 5,878 Olive Ridley eggs were collected from various nests at Swankhali, Ruppati, Imamer Deil, and Madarbunia sea beaches, resulting in 3,586 hatchlings hatching, with an average hatching success of 61 percent.

Also, from February to April 2025, a total of 3,199 eggs were collected, and by May 2025, 716 hatchlings had been released.

Stefan Liller, UNDP Bangladesh representative in the turtle hatchery. Credit: UNDP Bangladesh

Delwar said that stray dogs often eat the turtle eggs so the hatchery makes a significant contribution.

“We collect eggs that turtles release on the shore and bring those to the hatchery for hatching. Besides, we ask the community people to give turtle eggs to the hatchery. We, the group members, collect the turtle eggs from them too.”

Nurul Afsar, another TCG member, said many ethnic communities living in Cox’s Bazar consume turtles and their eggs – so the group plays a role in encouraging them not to consume but instead protect them.

ABM Sarowar Alam, program manager (species and habitats) at the IUCN in Bangladesh, said Cox’s Bazar Beach was once the ideal breeding ground for sea turtles, but it has dwindled due to habitat loss, poaching, and human disturbance.

He believes that several areas of the beach should be declared as “protected areas for sea turtles” to ensure safe breeding and that fishing should be restricted in the canals connecting to the sea so that turtles can move freely for nesting.

The group also addresses other hazards, such as the issue of stray dogs that kill the turtles and consume the eggs.

Firoz Al Amin, range officer of Inani Forest Range in Ukhiya, said the Forest Department has been working to control the stray dogs on the beach, aiming to protect the turtles.

A sea turtle moves toward the sea. Local conservationists are making a difference to the future of these ancient aquatic animals. Credit: UNDP Bangladesh

EARTH Project, More Than Turtle Conservation

Dr Mohammed Muzammel Hoque, national coordinator of the GEF Small Grants Program at UNDP Bangladesh, said the EARTH project’s role went beyond turtle conservation in the region.

It has elephant-response teams to mitigate conflicts between elephants and humans. The Five Crab Conservation Groups (CCG), comprising 25 youth members, and five sea Turtle Conservation Groups (TCG), also consisting of 25 youth members, remain active. The project was also working towards restoring habitats, with over 7,780 seedlings planted with support from the EARTH Project, with around 80% surviving.

However, Hoque said that the success is dependent on funding – and it’s hoped that once a Forest Trail becomes operational, it can generate revenue from tourists.

Abu Hena Mostafa Kamal, program coordinator of the Arannayk Foundation, said the project, by integrating livelihoods with conservation, “helped grow a sense of ownership among community members and youth, ensuring that environmental protection is not just a project outcome but a sustained, collective commitment.”

Note: The Eighth Global Environment Facility Assembly will be held from May 30 to June 6, 2026 in Samarkand, Uzbekistan.

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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Credit: Rajesh Jantilal/AFP

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Apr 20 2026 (IPS)

On 7 April, the government of Cameroon published a list of 16 of its citizens confirmed killed fighting for Russia against Ukraine. That means the number of Cameroon citizens killed in this distant war has likely surpassed a hundred, making the country the biggest victim of a Russian recruitment drive increasingly focused on Africa.

Conflict attrition

When Vladimir Putin launched Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, he probably assumed the war would be over in days. But now it has ground on past the four-year mark, and Russia’s tactics have brought horrendous loss of life on both sides. Putin treats his soldiers’ lives as disposable, throwing wave after wave of troops at Ukrainian lines in what have been called ‘meat grinder’ assaults. Amid pervasive disinformation, casualty estimates vary widely. A project to count confirmed deaths puts Russian military fatalities at over 206,000, while some estimates reach 1.3 million. Russia is reportedly losing soldiers faster than it can replace them.

Putin has turned to North Korean dictator Kim Jong Un: since 2024, North Korean forces have been fighting alongside Russian troops. Over 20,000 have been deployed, with a reported 6,000 casualties. Russia has also recruited from Central Asian countries and long-term allies such as Cuba. Ukraine too has brought in thousands of foreign fighters, including Colombian mercenaries. Now Russia is increasingly turning to Africa.

Russia’s African strategy

Putin has spent years cultivating relationships with African states, helping Russia resist international isolation and counter pressure from western states. The military relationship has been two-way: Russian mercenaries from the shadowy Wagner Group, now closely controlled by the government, have been deployed in as many as 18 African countries, including Burkina Faso, the Central African Republic and Mali. In some, they fight alongside government forces against insurgent groups; in others, including Libya, where two rival governments contest power, and Sudan, home to a brutal civil war, they’re backing one of two sides fighting for power. Wherever they operate, Russian mercenaries are accused of committing atrocities.

Russia’s arrival has come with some public support, cast as an alternative to the former colonial power France and promising more equal partnerships. When Wagner forces entered Mali in 2022, crowds lined the roads to greet them, waving Russian flags. Extensive pro-Russia disinformation campaigns typically precede Russia’s military involvement, laying the groundwork for such welcomes.

The relationship is extractive: in return for soldiers, Russia typically receives natural resources, including diamonds and gold, which help sustain a war that, despite Russia’s anti-imperialist posturing in Africa, is fundamentally imperial.

Repressive Central and West African governments, several run by military juntas or former army leaders who’ve traded their uniforms for civilian clothes, value a partner with no interest in scrutinising their human rights performance. Civil society organisations and media that try to expose human rights abuses by Russian forces come under attack.

From Africa to the frontlines

Russia is now exploiting the economic insecurity of many young African men, recruiting them to serve – and possibly die – on the Ukrainian front. Extensive recent civil society research has verified that Russia has so far recruited 1,417 African nationals, with the true figure almost certainly higher. The numbers have increased year on year, indicating a systematic plan. Egypt has supplied the most recruits, followed by Cameroon and Ghana. Of 1,417 verified recruits, 316, 22 per cent, have reportedly been killed.

Some recruits have expressed support for Russia online. Others are attracted by the promise of Russian citizenship and wages that far exceed anything they could earn at home. They may compare Russia’s apparent openness, signalled by its recent relaxation of visa requirements, with Europe’s increasing hostility towards migrants.

Others who’ve managed to escape report being conned. Fake job adverts made them believe they were signing up for civilian or support roles, including jobs as plumbers and security guards. On arrival, recruits are forced sign Russian-language contracts they can’t read, given minimal training and dispatched to the frontlines. The average service length of those killed is just six months, evidence that Russia treats them as expendable.

Intermediaries – including social media influencers who promote recruitment, travel agencies and people trafficking networks – are profiting from supplying recruits. In a bizarre political twist, Duduzile Zuma-Sambudla, a daughter of former South African president Jacob Zuma, is among those accused of recruiting Africans, including some falsely told they’d be trained as bodyguards for her father’s party. In December, South African police arrested five people on charges related to the recruitment of South Africans, including a journalist known for spreading pro-Russia propaganda.

Pressure for accountability

As evidence has accumulated, several African governments have taken action. The government of Togo warned its citizens about the dangers and, when several Togolese soldiers were captured in Ukraine, confirmed they’d been lured there by false promises of jobs and educational opportunities. Last year, the government of Botswana announced it was investigating the cases of two young men who believed they were signing up for a short-term military training programme but were forced to fight. In February, Ghana’s foreign minister confirmed that at least 55 of his country’s citizens had been killed and travelled to Ukraine to seek the release of Ghanaian prisoners of war. Police in Kenya and South African have arrested people trafficking gangs and closed down recruitment agencies. The Kenyan government recently announced Russia had agreed to stop recruiting Kenyan citizens, offering evidence that sustained bilateral pressure can produce results.

But many other African governments remain in denial, placing warm relations with Russia above the lives of their citizens. By doing so, they’re making clear that those lives are as disposable to them as they are to Russia.

Far more states must press Russia to end its abusive recruitment practices. And for international partners who claim to care about the welfare of young Africans, there’s a clear starting point: help address the economic conditions that create a ready pool of desperate recruits and drop the hostile migration policies that make Russia, of all places, look like a desirable destination.

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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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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The Global Environment Facility (GEF) announced that donor countries ​p​ledged an initial ​U​SD 3.9 billion to ​the facility for the ninth replenishment cycle​, indicating that nature remains a priority, as in this image, where a veterinary team applies a collar to a sedated elephant​ in KwaZulu-Natal​, South Africa, as part of an ambitious project aimed at conserving the animals. Credit: Dan Ingham/IPS

By Alison Kentish
SAINT LUCIA, Apr 9 2026 (IPS)

With just four years left to meet a series of global environmental targets, governments are committing to shore up one of the world’s main environmental funds, the Global Environment Facility (GEF), with a $3.9 billion pledge.

The funding will form the backbone of the GEF’s ninth replenishment cycle, known as GEF-9, a four-year financing round running from July 2026 to June 2030. Those years are widely seen as decisive for slowing biodiversity loss, tackling pollution and keeping climate goals within reach.

While the $3.9 billion pledge signals renewed momentum, it comes at a moment of deepening environmental strain. Ecosystems are continuing to decline, coral reefs are bleaching at scale and small island states are already grappling with the economic and social fallout of environmental change.

“This replenishment sends a clear message: the world is not giving up on nature,” said Claude Gascon, the GEF’s interim chief executive. He noted that donor countries had “risen to the challenge and made bold commitments towards a more positive future for the planet” despite competing global priorities.

“The coming four years of the GEF-9 cycle will reflect this high-ambition push to achieve the 2030 environmental goals,” he said.

The GEF, the world’s largest multilateral environmental fund, supports developing countries in meeting commitments under major global agreements on climate change, biodiversity, land degradation, chemicals, and ocean governance. Since its establishment, it has provided more than $27 billion in grants and mobilised a further $155 billion in co-financing.

GEF’s next funding round, its ninth replenishment cycle, aims to scale investment and mobilise private capital to close widening environmental financing gaps. Credit: Kea Mowat/Unsplash

Rewiring Economies Around Nature

At the centre of the new funding cycle is a push toward what the GEF calls “nature-positive development”. It is an effort to embed environmental value into economic decision-making rather than treating it as a secondary concern.

That includes reworking systems that drive environmental degradation, such as food production, energy, urban development and public health, so they operate within ecological limits.

The strategy also leans heavily on attracting private investment. Around 25% of GEF-9 resources are expected to be used to mobilise private capital, reflecting a growing recognition that public funding alone cannot close the global environmental financing gap.

Focus on the Most Vulnerable

The allocation of funds carries a clear political signal.

At least 35 percent of resources are expected to go to Least Developed Countries and Small Island Developing States (SIDS), countries that contribute least to environmental degradation but face some of its most severe impacts. A further 20% is earmarked for Indigenous Peoples and local communities.

For Caribbean nations, where coastal erosion, stronger storms and coral reef loss are already reshaping economies, the funding could prove significant if it translates quickly into action on the ground.

“We need multilateral cooperation more than ever to protect our planet for future generations,” said Niels Annen, describing the replenishment as a “joint effort” between countries in the Global North and South. “Environmental action and sustainable development have to go hand in hand. In GEF-9, we see Germany’s priorities very well reflected: innovative finance for nature and people, better cooperation with the private sector and stable resources for the most vulnerable countries.”

Support for the funding round has also come from Spain and Mexico, with Inés Carpio San Román emphasising the importance of “effective multilateralism” and Mexico backing “country-driven solutions” to global environmental challenges.

Calls to Deliver Results

Civil society groups have welcomed the increased emphasis on inclusion, particularly the allocation for Indigenous Peoples and local communities.

“This will strengthen a whole-of-society approach,” said Faizal Parish, Chair of the GEF’s Civil Society Organization Network, while Aliou Mustafa, of the GEF’s Indigenous Peoples Advisory Group, said the shift reflects efforts to place Indigenous groups “at the centre of decision-making.”

Still, expectations are high and time is short.

“The environmental crises we face are accelerating,” said Richard Bontjer. He described the  replenishment as “a vote of confidence” while stressing that “every dollar must count.”

“This replenishment will sharpen the GEF’s focus on impact, drive greater efficiency and mobilize private finance alongside public investment. It will also strengthen support to SIDS and LDCs and give recognition to the importance of supporting Indigenous Peoples and local communities.”

With the 2030 deadline fast approaching, the success of this funding round will ultimately be judged not by the size of the pledges but by how quickly they translate into measurable gains—restored ecosystems, protected coastlines and more resilient economies.

For countries on the frontlines, including those in the Caribbean, the $3.9 billion is not just another funding cycle.

It is a narrowing window of opportunity.

Additional pledges are expected before the end-of-May GEF Council meeting, when countries will lock in the final size and ambition of the four-year funding round.

The 71st GEF Council meeting will be held in Samarkand, Uzbekistan, from May 31 to June 3, 2026. The meeting will take place in advance of the Eighth GEF Assembly, when individual country pledges will be publicly announced.

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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Excerpt:

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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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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