In a world increasingly divided by war, political distrust and competing ideologies, Kazakhstan has spent more than two decades pursuing an unusual diplomatic undertaking: keeping representatives of different religions in conversation.
“You’re living a life drained of joy,” is how Shehnaz Sher Ali describes her “perpetually wet and stinky” existence. “I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy,” says the 35-year-old, who travelled by bus for more than 12 hours with her husband from their village in Rahim Yar Khan, Punjab, changing diapers whenever possible to keep the smell from reaching the fellow passengers.
World leaders have warned that the most vulnerable people have been left behind as the right to development has promised more than it has delivered, with development seemingly the preserve of the superrich and powerful.
Twenty years after five Central Asian states signed a landmark treaty banning nuclear weapons across their region, their foreign ministers have used the anniversary to warn that faltering arms-control agreements, nuclear modernization and deepening international mistrust are placing global security under growing strain.
A symposium examining Japan’s death penalty through the lens of human dignity was held on September 5 at Joseph Hall of St. Ignatius Church in Yotsuya, Tokyo.
When the Malawian government announced the conclusion of the repatriation of its citizens trapped in anti-immigrant violence against foreign Africans in South Africa on August 12, 2026, it had brought home 56,723 nationals, according to data from the Department of Disaster Management Affairs.
After two days of debate at an international conference devoted to the challenges of artificial intelligence (AI), nuclear war and global security, Nobel laureates, former heads of state and government, scientists, human rights defenders, religious leaders and representatives of civil society adopted a joint declaration, calling for it to be based on human dignity.
When Roberto Savio begins talking about The Global Citizen Handbook, he does not begin with the book itself.
He begins with today’s young people.
It is barely noon, and a group of women sit near the beach on the outskirts of Djégbadji village, in West Africa’s Benin, sifting through mounds of salt harvested from the Gulf of Guinea’s ocean.
As the world enters the final years before the 2030 deadline for achieving the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), a latest United Nations report has revealed that economic uncertainty, climate change, conflict and growing geopolitical tensions are causing hurdles for the countries to meet the targets.
The protracted years of conflict in Syria have inflicted profound scars that transcend physical destruction, permeating the psychological well-being of millions.
In 2006, Amina Saida was only two years old when her parents moved to the Dadaab refugee camp in northern Kenya, near the border with Somalia.
Sudhi Kumar animatedly moves his hands, resembling a graceful dance performance, as he demonstrates how a fishing harpoon is used. He has been on a brief hiatus from harpooning, owing to the recent rough nature of the sea, and doesn’t have the tool with him as we speak. But more than three decades of experience using harpoons is apparent in how vividly he uses his body to mimic the process.
A cloud of steam rises from a giant aluminium pot as Maria Joseph, a middle-aged cook in a toque blanche and faded apron, plants her feet firmly on the tiled kitchen floor. With both hands clasped around a wooden paddle, she plunges deep into the mound of rice, threatening to burn at the bottom.
As wars drag on and the international order grows increasingly unstable, Abu Dhabi has been offering a different kind of narrative. It sought to recognize early efforts at reconciliation, bring religious leaders into the same space, and place former adversaries under the same spotlight. At the heart of the February 4, 2026 Zayed Award for Human Fraternity ceremony was an attempt to make visible, in a public setting, the choice of moving in the direction of easing conflict.
Every morning before sunrise, 10-year-old Amina Adan walks away from school and toward a shrinking water pan on the outskirts of Rhamu, Mandera County. By the time her classmates would be opening exercise books, Amina was already balancing a yellow jerrycan almost half her size.
Decades ago, a little girl was born in a place called Cleveland, Ohio, in the heart of the United States of America. Born to a woman from the deep South, the place of Martin Luther King, her mother left her ancestral lands for the economic opportunities in the north.
In the shadow of Rome’s Colosseum — once a monument to imperial violence — religious leaders from across the world gathered this week to deliver a message that felt both ancient and urgent: peace must once again become humanity’s sacred duty.
When Tsholofelo Msimango joined a small trial of a new drug regimen for tuberculosis (TB) treatment a decade ago, she had no idea whether the medicines she was about to be given would help her.
On a hot afternoon in Kariakoo, Dar es Salaam’s bustling commercial hub, the air is a swirling mix of diesel exhaust, charcoal smoke and dust kicked up by the shuffle of feet. Traders tie handkerchiefs over their noses to deter haze from drifting into their throats and lungs.
Peacebuilding, conflict prevention, and crime prevention are no longer niche security concerns—they are global imperatives for sustainable climate action. From the migration crisis in Venezuela to the deforestation-driven conflicts in the Amazon, to organised crime in Central America, the ripple effects of instability and environmental degradation are felt far beyond national borders. In 2025, nearly 80% of countries experiencing risks to peace remain off-track to meet the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). Addressing these challenges isn’t just about safeguarding peace, stability and development. It’s also about ensuring sustainable climate action.