A session titled Youth Movements and Democratic Futures in South Asia at International Civil Society Week, held at Bangkok’s Thammasat University. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

By Zofeen Ebrahim
BANGKOK, Nov 5 2025 (IPS)

The message is clear: today’s youth are not “wishy-washy.” They are not just the future—they are the present, full partners in shaping it, and “power-sharing” is the new mantra. The veterans of activism are being reminded not merely to listen but to hear and to leave their egos at the door.

These were among the many resonant takeaways from the five-day International Civil Society Week, held at Bangkok’s Thammasat University.

Yet beneath the optimistic rhetoric, a different mood lingered. Many young participants seemed despondent, feeling short-changed by their elders—empowered in words, but excluded in practice.

At a session titled “Youth Movements and Democratic Futures in South Asia,” young voices from Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, India, Pakistan, and Nepal shared their frustrations and fears for the future.

Student activist Ammad Talpur at the Youth Movements and Democratic Futures in South Asia session at International Civil Society Week, held at Bangkok’s Thammasat University. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

In Pakistan, said student activist Ammad Talpur, nepotism runs deep, inequality is horrific and brutal, and the powerful break laws with impunity. “We long for change, but fear silences us, as those in power will not brook dissent.”

A similar sense of frustration echoes beyond Pakistan.

“Though sometimes its exercise may come at a cost, youth in India are free to say anything and freedom of speech does exist,” Adrian D’ruz, another panelist, told IPS after the session. And journalists, academics, students, and comedians who questioned those in power, he said, reportedly faced legal action, online harassment, or institutional pressure.

To curb dissent, legal provisions are misapplied, resulting in people “leaning towards self-censorship rather than risking consequences,” said D’Cruz, a member of a network of NGOs in India called Wada Na Todo Abhiyan, which promotes governance accountability and inclusion of marginalized communities.

While Pakistan and India illustrate the pressures youth face under entrenched power, in Nepal the response has taken a more visible, street-level form, riding a wave of unrest that began in Sri Lanka and Bangladesh.

In Kathmandu, “rising unemployment, corruption, nepotism, and broken promises” fueled the unrest, said Tikashwari Rai, a young Nepali mother of two daughters, worried for their future.

Tikashwari Rai, a Nepali mother of two daughters, at the Youth Movements and Democratic Futures in South Asia session at International Civil Society Week, held at Bangkok’s Thammasat University. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

“We don’t want to work as domestic help in the Middle East; we want opportunities here, in our own country. But because there are none, many young people are forced to leave,” she explained.

Yet, she admitted, the protests came at a heavy cost—lives lost and infrastructure destroyed. “Our youth need guidance and stronger organization to lead social movements effectively,” she added.

Beyond the immediate triggers of street protests, some activists argue that deeper systemic issues fuel youth disenchantment.

Melani Gunathilaka, a climate and political activist from Sri Lanka, at the Youth Movements and Democratic Futures in South Asia session at International Civil Society Week, held at Bangkok’s Thammasat University. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

Melani Gunathilaka, a young climate and political activist from Sri Lanka, who was also on the panel, believed the roots of disenchantment ran deeper. “While these protests are often labeled as anti-government, at their core, they demand systemic change and true accountability from those in power.”

The immediate triggers seem to spread across corruption, authoritarian governments, repression, lack of access to basic needs and more,” she said.

A closer look at the situation in countries like Nepal, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and Kenya, however, exposed economic hardship, debt burdens, and deepening inequalities. And this trend is also observed globally, she pointed out.

Despite these frustrations, the conference also explored how young and older activists can work together, not just to protest, but to reshape movements constructively.

“Across civil society, there is growing recognition that youth must be meaningfully included in development and nation-building. While progress varies from group to group, the direction of change is unmistakably forward,” said D’cruz.

Talpur further fine-tuned D’Cruz’s sentiment. “It’s not about taking over; it’s about working together through collaboration.” He also found it “unfair for the boomers to create a mess and leave it to the millennials and Gen Z to fix it.”

Interestingly, the sentiment found an echo among the older generation itself. Founder of the Alternative ASEAN Network on Burma, Debbie Stothard, said it was unfair to leave the mess her generation had created to the young and then expect them to “fix it.”

Speaking at the closing plenary titled “Futures We’re Building: Youth, Climate and Intergenerational Justice, she noted that she had been talking about “intergenerational equity” for 40 years, yet many in her generation of activists still fail to “walk the talk” in how they live and lead. Still, she added, it is not too late: “We can still make space.”

That space, she explained, begins with a change in mindset. “It’s not our job to empower the youth; it’s recognizing that they have power,” she said—a reminder that true equity lies not in giving power away, but in acknowledging it already exists.

This shift in perspective is already reshaping how movements operate. Youth no longer need to “look up to” traditional authority figures for inspiration, said D’cruz. Many within their generation are already leading change.

Mihajlo Matkovic, a member of the Youth Action Team at CIVICUS, from Serbia, also at the closing, demonstrated how real change required innovation and persistence. “Because our generation did not have any great example of what a direct democracy looks like,” he said, adding, “We had to basically reinvent it.”

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Rajagopal P.V. at the International Civil Society Week (ICSW2025) in Bangkok. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

By Zofeen Ebrahim
BANGKOK, Nov 4 2025 (IPS)

“If nations can have defense ministries, why not peace ministries?” asks Rajagopal PV, the soft-spoken yet formidable founder of Ekta Parishad. “We are told to see issues through a gender lens—why not a peace lens? Why can’t we imagine a business model rooted in non-violence or an education system that teaches peace?”

Founded in 1989, Ekta Parishad—literally Forum for Unity—is a vast people’s movement of more than 250,000 landless poor, now recognized as one of India’s largest and most disciplined grassroots forces for justice.

To Rajagopal, these aren’t utopian dreams—they’re blueprints for a possible world.

Over the decades, Ekta Parishad has secured land rights for nearly half a million families, trained over 10,000 grassroots leaders, protected forests and water bodies, and helped shape key land reform laws and policies in India.

All this has been achieved not through anger, but through disciplined, nonviolent marches that stretch across hundreds of kilometers. Along the way, many leaders have walked beside him—among them, the current Prime Minister of Armenia.

In an age marked by deep disorder—where wealth concentrates in few hands, poverty spreads, and the planet itself trembles under human greed—the 77-year-old Gandhian remains unshaken in his belief that peace alone can redeem humanity.

“We must rescue peace from the clutches of poverty and all its evils,” he told IPS on the sidelines of the International Civil Society Week, standing on the football ground of Bangkok’s Thammasat University.

“And it can be done,” he insists—and his life is proof. In 1969, the centenary year of Mahatma Gandhi’s birth, the Government of India launched a unique exhibition on wheels, a ten-coach train carrying Gandhi’s life and message across the nation. Rajagopal was part of the team that curated and travelled with it.

“For an entire year, we journeyed from state to state. Thousands of schoolchildren would gather at railway platforms, their faces lit with curiosity, waiting to meet Gandhi through our displays,” he recalls.

Yet somewhere along those long railway tracks, Rajagopal began to feel that displaying Gandhi’s ideals wasn’t enough. “The exhibition was beautiful,” he says, “but what was the use of preaching non-violence if we couldn’t live it, breathe it, and bring it to life?”

That realization led him to one of the most daring experiments in peacebuilding India had ever seen—negotiating with the feared bandits of the Chambal valley. “It was 1970,” he recalls. “We moved cautiously, first meeting villagers on the periphery to build trust. Once we had their confidence, we sent word to the dacoits: we wanted to talk. With the government’s consent, we ventured into what we called a ‘peace zone’—often by night, walking for hours through deep ravines—to meet men the world only knew as outlaws.”

The dialogues continued for four years. Eventually, as many as 570 bandits laid down their arms before a photograph of Mahatma Gandhi—a sight India had never seen before. The government, in turn, promised they would not face the death penalty and would receive land and livestock to rebuild their lives. Rehabilitation took another four painstaking years, but it was a victory of conscience over fear.

“They didn’t just surrender their weapons—they surrendered their anger,” Rajagopal says quietly. “There was real repentance, and that takes time—but it lasts.” His commitment came at a cost. At his ashram—a spiritual retreat he had founded—he was threatened, beaten, and ordered to abandon his peace efforts. He talked them through to accepting his presence.

“Today that same region is heaven,” he smiles, his eyes crinkling with memory. “Fifty years ago, people trembled at sunset—terrified of the bandits. Today, you can travel at 2:00 pm in the night, where fear ruled once.”

The mass surrender may have looked like a triumph for the state, but Rajagopal urges people to look deeper. “It’s the invisible violence—poverty, injustice, and oppression—that breeds the visible one: dacoities, kidnappings, and killings,” he explains.

Though Rajagopal and his companions had ended one form of violence, the deeper, quieter kind—born of poverty and neglect—still festered. Until that was confronted, he knew, peace would remain incomplete.

Years of working alongside the poor had taught him one truth: non-violence needs structure. If India’s Indigenous and landless communities were to be heard, they had to be organized.

“We began training young people from dozens of villages,” he says. “They went door to door, teaching others not only about their rights—especially the right to land—but also how to claim them peacefully.”

With that foundation, a five-year plan took shape. Each village home chose one member to take part. Every day, the family set aside one rupee and a fistful of rice—a humble but powerful act of commitment.

They even created a “playbook” of possible scenarios—how to stay calm under provocation, how to respond to setbacks, and how to practice non-violence in thought and action. “In one of our marches, a truck ran over three of our people, killing them,” he recalls softly. “There was grief, but no retaliation. Instead, they sat in silence and meditated. That was our true test.”

In 2006, 500 marchers walked 350 kilometers from Gwalior to Delhi, demanding land rights. Nothing changed. But they didn’t stop.

A year later, in 2007, 25,000 people—many barefoot—set out again on the national highway. “Imagine that sight,” Rajagopal says, eyes gleaming. “Twenty-five thousand people walking for a month, powered only by hope.”

The march displayed not just India’s poverty but also its power—the quiet power of the poor united. It was among the most disciplined mobilizations the country had ever seen. “There was one leader for every hundred people,” Rajagopal explains. “We walked by day and slept on the highway by night. Those in charge of cooking went ahead each morning so that by sundown, a single meal was ready for all.”

In a later march, Rajagopal recalls, the government sent a large police force. “I was worried,” he admits. “I called the authorities to tell them this was a non-violent protest—we didn’t need protection. The officer replied, ‘They’re not there for you; they’re here to learn how disciplined movements should be.’”

Along the route, villages greeted them like family—offering bags of rice, water, and prayers. “There was never a shortage of food,” Rajagopal smiles. “When your cause is just, the world feeds you.”

By the time the march reached Delhi, the government announced a new land reform policy and housing rights and agreed to enact the Forest Rights Act.

The government dispersed the marchers with hollow promises and the reforms never happened.

So Ekta Parishad planned an even larger march—a Jan Satyagraha of 100,000 people in 2012.

“Halfway through, the government came running.”

Rajagopal’s face lights up as he recalls the event. “They agreed to our ten-point agenda and signed it in front of the people. That moment was historic—governments almost never do that; the Indian government certainly never does it!”

The agreement included land and housing rights, a national task force on land reform, the prime minister’s oversight of policy implementation, and fast-track courts to resolve land disputes.

Today, because of these long, barefoot marches, more than three million Indigenous people in India now have legal rights to land and housing. The struggle also gave birth to India’s Land Acquisition, Rehabilitation, and Resettlement Act—a landmark in people’s movements.

“The Act also safeguards fertile land,” Rajagopal explains. “Before the government can acquire any area, a social impact study must be done. And if farmland is taken, the owners receive four times its value in compensation.”

“The purpose of our marches,” Rajagopal says, “is not to fight the government, but to win it over. The government is not the enemy; injustice is. We must stand on the same side of the problem.”

For Rajagopal, peace is not a sentiment but a system—something that must be built, brick by brick, through dialogue and respect. “Non-violence,” he says, “isn’t passive. It’s active patience—listening, accepting differences, never policing thought.” The same principle, he believes, can heal families, neighborhoods, nations—and the world itself.

His next mission is to create a Youth Peace Force, ready to enter conflict zones and resolve disputes through dialogue. He has also launched the Peace Builders Forum, or Peace7, uniting seven countries—South Africa, Japan, Costa Rica, Switzerland, Canada, India, and Armenia. His dream is to expand it to Peace20, where, as he smiles, “wealth will never be a criterion for membership.”

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Amitabh Behar speaks to IPS at ICSW2025 in Bangkok, Thailand. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

By Zofeen Ebrahim
BANGKOK, Nov 2 2025 (IPS)

Speaking to IPS on the sidelines of the International Civil Society Week in Bangkok (November 1–5), Amitabh Behar, Executive Director of Oxfam International and a passionate human rights advocate, highlighted his concerns about rising inequality, growing authoritarianism, and the misuse of AI and surveillance. Yet, he expressed optimism that, even as civic spaces shrink, young people across Asia are driving meaningful change. He also shared his vision of a just society—one where power is shared, and grassroots movements lead the way.

Excerpts from the interview:

IPS: What does civil society (CS) mean to you personally in today’s global context?

Behar: In an age of grotesque and rising global inequality, civil society is ordinary people challenging elites and the governments that are elected to serve them. It’s the engine that keeps democracy from being just a mere formality that happens at a ballot box every four years.

IPS: What was the role of CS society in the past? How has it evolved? How do you see it in the next decade?

Behar: During Asia’s economic miracle, governments invested in public services while civil society worked alongside unions to defend workers’ rights and speak up for communities. Today, with austerity and rising authoritarianism around the world, civil society is stepping in where governments should be but are currently failing. It runs food banks, builds local support networks, and defends citizens and workers even as basic freedoms and the right to protest are increasingly under attack.

IPS: What do you see as the greatest challenge facing CS today?

Behar: A tiny elite not only controls politics, media, and resources but also dominates decisions in capitals around the world and rigs economic policies in their favor. Rising inequality, debt crises, and climate disasters make survival even harder for ordinary people, while repressive governments actively silence their voices.

IPS: What’s the most significant challenge activists face when it comes to democracy, human rights or inclusion? 

Behar: Authoritarian governments crush dissent and protests with laws, surveillance, and intimidation. AI and digital tools are now being weaponized to track and target and illegally detain protestors, deepen inequality, and accelerate climate breakdown, all while activists risk everything to defend democracy and human rights.

IPS: How can civil society remain resilient in the face of shrinking civic spaces or restrictive laws?

Behar: From protests in Kathmandu to Jakarta, from Dili to Manila, one encouraging theme is emerging: the courage, inspiration, and defiance of young people. Gen Z-led movements, community networks, and grassroots campaigns are winning real change, raising wages, defending workers’ rights, improving services, and forcing action on climate disasters. Despite the immense odds, we will not be silenced. This is our Arab Spring.

IPS: Can you give examples from recent days that indicate that the work of CS is making a difference? Has the outcome been (good or bad) surprising?

Behar: In cities across Asia, Gen Z-led protests are winning higher wages, defending workers’ rights, and forcing local authorities to respond to youth unemployment and climate threats.

IPS: In your experience, what makes partnerships between civil society actors most effective?

Behar: Partnerships work when civil society groups trust each other and put the people most affected at the center. When local networks, youth groups, and volunteers coordinate around community leadership, as in cyclone responses in Bangladesh, for example, decisions are faster, resources reach the right people, and the work actually makes a difference.

IPS: How can civil society collaborate with the government and the private sector without losing its independence?

Behar: Civil society can work with governments and businesses strategically when it genuinely strengthens people’s rights rather than erodes them. But the moment politicians or corporations try to co-opt, stage manage or greenwash their work, civil society can be compromised. Real change only happens when communities set the priorities, not politicians or CEOs.

IPS: What are the biggest strategic choices CSOs need to make now in this shrinking civic space or rising pushback?

Behar: When governments erode rights across the board, from reproductive freedom to climate action, to the right to protest, civil society can’t just stay on the back foot. It must fight strategically, defending civic space, backing grassroots movements, and focusing power, time, and resources where they matter most. The core struggle is inequality, the root of nearly every form of injustice. Striking at it directly is the most strategic way to advance justice across the board.

IPS: In your view, what kinds of alliances (across sectors or geographies) matter most for expanding citizen action in the coming years?

Behar: The alliances that matter are the ones that actually shift power and resources away from the elites. Young people, women, Indigenous communities, and workers linking across countries show governments and corporations they can’t ignore them. When those on the frontlines connect with the wider world, people’s movements stop being small and start changing the rules for everyone.

IPS: How can the marginalized voices be genuinely included in collective action?

Behar: Marginalized voices aren’t there to tick a box or make up the numbers. At spaces like COP in Brazil this year, they should be calling the shots. Indigenous people, women, and frontline communities live through the consequences of rampant inequality every day in every way conceivable. It’s time we pull them up a chair at the table and let them drive the decisions that affect their lives.

IPS: Are emerging technologies or digital tools shaping the work of CS? How? Please mention both opportunities and risks.

Behar: Across Asia, Gen-Z activists are leading protests against inequality and youth unemployment, using digital tools to mobilize, amplify, and organize. But AI and intrusive surveillance now track every post and monitor every march, giving governments even greater powers to violently clamp down on civil society.

IPS: How do you balance optimism and realism when facing today’s social and political challenges?

Behar: I’m optimistic because I see ordinary people, especially young people, refusing to accept injustice. They’re striking, protesting, and building communities that protect each other. But we have to be realistic about the challenge, too. Obscene levels of inequality, worsening climate disasters, and repressive governments make change hard. Yet, time and again, when people rise together, they start to bend the rules in their favor and force the powerful to act.

IPS: What advice would you give to young activists entering this space?

Behar: Keep your fire but pace yourself. Fighting for justice is exhausting, and the challenges can feel endless. Look after your mental health, lean on your community, and celebrate the small wins that can keep you energized for the next challenge. The fight is long, and staying strong, rested, and connected is how you’ll keep on making a difference.

IPS: If you could summarize your vision for a just and inclusive society in one sentence, what would it be?

Behar: A just and inclusive society is one where the powerful can’t rig the rules, the most vulnerable set the agenda, and fairness runs through every policy.

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