GEBZE, Türkiye, Nov 14 2025 (IPS) – Artificial intelligence (AI) is rapidly changing our world. It has helped a few companies in developed countries set record-breaking profits. Last month, Nvidia, a leading US AI company, hit a market value of USD 5 trillion.
Nvidia, together with the other six technology companies known as the Magnificent Seven, reached a market capitalisation of USD22 trillion. This value easily eclipses the combined GDP of the world’s 44 Least Developed Countries (LDCs), Small Island Developing States and Landlocked Developing Countries.
These businesses continue to make massive investments in this transformational technology. Not only are investments being made in AI for the future, but benefits are also already being reaped as it accelerates global commerce and rapidly transforms markets.
According to the World Economic Forum, AI is streamlining supply chains, optimising production, and enabling data-driven trade decisions, giving companies a big competitive edge in global markets.
Thus far, the beneficiaries have been those living in the developed world, and a few developing countries with high technological capacities, like India.
By and large, developing countries have lagged far behind this technological revolution. The world’s 44 LDCs and the Small Island Developing States are those that have been almost completely left out.
According to UNCTAD, LDCs risk being excluded from the economic benefits or the AI revolution. Many LDCs and Small Island Developing States struggle with limited access to digital tools, relying on traditional methods for trade documentation, market analysis, and logistics. This is happening as others race ahead.
This widening gap threatens to marginalize these countries in international trade and underscores the urgency of ensuring they can participate fully in the AI-driven global economy.
AI holds transformative potential for developing countries across sectors critical to economic growth and trade. The World Bank has noted that in agriculture, AI-driven tools can improve crop yields, forecast market demand, and enhance supply chain efficiency. It can also strengthen food security and export earnings. In trade and logistics, AI can optimize operations, reduce transaction costs, and help local producers access new markets.
Beyond commercial applications, AI can bolster disaster preparedness, enabling governments and businesses to allocate resources efficiently and minimize losses. The use of AI can be a game changer in responding to massive natural disasters such as the one caused by Hurricane Melissa in Jamaica a few days ago.
Despite these opportunities, the poorest and most vulnerable countries face significant hurdles in accessing and benefiting from AI. The International Telecommunications Union has noted that many countries lack reliable electricity, broadband connectivity, and computing resources, impeding the deployment of AI technologies. This is compounded by human capacity constraints and limited fiscal space to make the requisite investments.
Given this, what is the best way forward for the world’s poorest and most vulnerable countries? Firstly, policy and governance frameworks for leveraging AI for development transformation are urgently, and we can learn from others.
For example, Rwanda, a leader in the field of using technology to drive transformation has developed a National Artificial Intelligence Policy. Another example is Trinidad and Tobago, which recently established a Ministry of Public Administration and Artificial Intelligence.
Secondly, capacity building, especially for policy leaders, is key. This must be augmented by making the requisite investments in universities and centers of excellence. Given the importance of low-cost and high-impact solutions, building partnerships with institutions in the global south is absolutely vital.
Finally, financing remains key. However, given the downward trends in overseas development assistance, accessing finance, especially grant and concessional resources from other sources will be important. Consequently, international financial institutions, especially the regional development banks, have a critical role to play.
Since the countries themselves are shareholders, every effort should be made to establish special purpose windows of grants and concessional financing to help accelerate adoption of relevant, low-cost, relevant and high-impact AI technological solutions.
In an adverse financing environment, achieving the above will be difficult. This is where Tech Diplomacy comes in and must be a central element of a country’s approach to foreign policy. This will be the subject of another piece.
In summary, AI is shaping and changing the world now. For the poorest and most vulnerable countries, all is not lost. With strategic investments, forward-looking and inclusive policies, and international cooperation via Tech Diplomacy, AI can become a powerful tool for their sustainable growth and development.
Deodat Maharaj, a national of Trinidad and Tobago, is presently the Managing Director of the United Nations Technology Bank for the Least Developed Countries. He can be contacted at: deodat.maharaj@un.org
As climate leaders gather in the Amazon, the world’s green transformation is speaking with a southern accent—powered by markets, technology, and a new economic logic.
Belém—30th Conference of the Parties (COP30). Credit: Antônio Scorza/COP30
OSLO, Norway, Nov 11 2025 (IPS) – When world leaders now gather in Belém, Brazil for the UN climate conference, expectations will be modest. Few believe the meeting will produce any breakthroughs. The United States is retreating from climate engagement. Europe is distracted. The UN is struggling to keep relevant in the 21st century.
But step outside the negotiation tents, and a different story unfolds—one of quiet revolutions, technological leaps, and a new geography of leadership. The green transformation of the world is no longer being designed in Western capitals. It is being built, at scale, in the Global South.
Ten years ago, anyone seeking inspiration on climate policy went to Brussels, Berlin or Paris. Today, you go to Beijing, Delhi or Jakarta. The center of gravity has shifted. China and India are now the twin engines of the global green economy, with Brazil, Vietnam and Indonesia closely behind.
Erik Solheim
This is not about rhetoric; it is about results. China accounts for roughly 60 percent of global capacity in solar, wind, and hydropower manufacturing. It dominates in electric vehicles, batteries, and high-speed rail. China’s 93 GW installation of solar in May 2025 is a historic high and exceeds the monthly or short‐term installation levels of any other country to date.
China has made the green transition its biggest business opportunity, turning green action into jobs, prosperity and global leadership. China is now making more money from exporting green technology than America makes from exporting fossil fuels.
India, too, is reshaping what green development looks like. I was in Andhra Pradesh last month, when I visited a wonderful six-gigawatt integrated energy park—solar, wind, and pumped storage. It delivers round-the-clock clean power. There is nothing like that in the West. In another state, Tamil Nadu, an ecotourism circuit is protecting mangroves and marine ecosystems while creating local jobs in tourism. The western state of Gujarat, long a laboratory for industrial innovation, has committed to 100 gigawatts of renewables by 2030, with the captains of Indian business – Adani and Reliance – driving large-scale solar and wind investments with the state government.
These are not pilot projects. They are national strategies. And they are succeeding because the economics have flipped.
The cost of solar power has fallen by over 90 percent in the last decade, largely thanks to the intense competition between Chinese solar companies. Battery storage is now competitive with fossil fuels. What was once an environmental aspiration has become a financial inevitability. In Indian Gujarat, solar-plus-storage projects are already cheaper than coal. Switching to clean energy is no longer a cost—it is a saving.
That is why climate action today is driven not by diplomacy, but by economics. The question is no longer if countries will go green, but who will own the technologies and industries that make it possible.
Europe, long the moral voice of the climate agenda, now risks losing the industrial race. After years of blocking imports from developing countries on grounds of “inferior” green quality, it now complains that Chinese electric vehicles are too good— too cheap and too efficient. Europe cannot have it both ways. The world cannot build a green transition behind protectionist walls. The markets must open to the best technologies, wherever they are made.
President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva of Brazil understands this new reality. That is why he chose Belém, deep in the Amazon, as the site for climate talks. The location itself is a statement: the future of climate policy lies in protecting the rainforests and empowering the people who live within them.
Forests are not just carbon sinks; they are living economies. When I was Norway’s environment minister, we partnered with Brazil and Indonesia to reward them for reducing deforestation. Later, Guyana joined our effort—a small South American nation where nearly the entire population is of Indian or African origin.
Guyana has since turned conservation into currency. Under its jurisdictional REDD+ programme, the country now sells verified carbon credits through the global aviation market known as CORSIA. In the third quarter of this year, these credits traded at USD 22.55 per tonne of CO₂ equivalent, with around one million credits sold through a procurement event led by IATA and Mercuria.
The proceeds go directly to forest communities—building schools, improving digital access, and funding small enterprises. It is proof that the carbon market can deliver real value when tied to real lives. You cannot protect nature against the will of local people. You can only protect it with them. Last year in Guyana, I watched children play soccer and cricket beneath the jungle canopy—a glimpse of life thriving in harmony with the forest, not at its expense.
That, ultimately, is what Belém should represent: not another round of procedural debates, but a vision for linking markets, nature and livelihoods.
The Global South has also sidestepped one of the West’s greatest political failures: climate denial. In India, there is no major political party—or public figure, cricket star or Bollywood artist—questioning the reality of climate change. Leaders may differ on ideology, but not on this. Across Asia, from China to Indonesia, climate action unites rather than divides. Because here, ecology and economy move together.
Prime Minister Narendra Modi of India puts it simply: by going green, we also go prosperous. President Xi Jinping of China and President Lula of Brazil share that same message—a vision that draws people in, instead of lecturing them. It is this integration of growth and sustainability that explains why the Global South is moving faster than most of the developed world.
None of this means diplomacy is irrelevant. The UN still matters. But its institutions must evolve to reflect the realities of the 21st century. The Security Council, frozen in 1945, still excludes India and Africa from permanent membership. Without reform, multilateralism risks losing its meaning.
Yet, while negotiations stall, transformation continues. From solar parks in Gujarat to high-speed rail across China, from mangrove tourism in Tamil Nadu to carbon markets in Guyana—climate leadership is happening in real economies, not in press releases.
Belém will not deliver a grand agreement. But it doesn’t need to. The world is already moving—faster than our diplomats.
The story of Belem will not be written in communiqués, but in kilowatts, credits, and communities.
The real climate leaders are no longer in Washington or Brussels.
They are in Beijing, Delhi, São Paulo, and Georgetown.
The future of climate action is already here.
It just speaks with a southern accent.
The author is the former Executive Director of the United Nations Environment Programme and Norway’s Minister for Environment and International Development.
As climate leaders gather in the Amazon, the world’s green transformation is speaking with a southern accent—powered by markets, technology, and a new economic logic.
Belém—30th Conference of the Parties (COP30). Credit: Antônio Scorza/COP30
OSLO, Norway, Nov 11 2025 (IPS) – When world leaders now gather in Belém, Brazil for the UN climate conference, expectations will be modest. Few believe the meeting will produce any breakthroughs. The United States is retreating from climate engagement. Europe is distracted. The UN is struggling to keep relevant in the 21st century.
But step outside the negotiation tents, and a different story unfolds—one of quiet revolutions, technological leaps, and a new geography of leadership. The green transformation of the world is no longer being designed in Western capitals. It is being built, at scale, in the Global South.
Ten years ago, anyone seeking inspiration on climate policy went to Brussels, Berlin or Paris. Today, you go to Beijing, Delhi or Jakarta. The center of gravity has shifted. China and India are now the twin engines of the global green economy, with Brazil, Vietnam and Indonesia closely behind.
Erik Solheim
This is not about rhetoric; it is about results. China accounts for roughly 60 percent of global capacity in solar, wind, and hydropower manufacturing. It dominates in electric vehicles, batteries, and high-speed rail. China’s 93 GW installation of solar in May 2025 is a historic high and exceeds the monthly or short‐term installation levels of any other country to date.
China has made the green transition its biggest business opportunity, turning green action into jobs, prosperity and global leadership. China is now making more money from exporting green technology than America makes from exporting fossil fuels.
India, too, is reshaping what green development looks like. I was in Andhra Pradesh last month, when I visited a wonderful six-gigawatt integrated energy park—solar, wind, and pumped storage. It delivers round-the-clock clean power. There is nothing like that in the West. In another state, Tamil Nadu, an ecotourism circuit is protecting mangroves and marine ecosystems while creating local jobs in tourism. The western state of Gujarat, long a laboratory for industrial innovation, has committed to 100 gigawatts of renewables by 2030, with the captains of Indian business – Adani and Reliance – driving large-scale solar and wind investments with the state government.
These are not pilot projects. They are national strategies. And they are succeeding because the economics have flipped.
The cost of solar power has fallen by over 90 percent in the last decade, largely thanks to the intense competition between Chinese solar companies. Battery storage is now competitive with fossil fuels. What was once an environmental aspiration has become a financial inevitability. In Indian Gujarat, solar-plus-storage projects are already cheaper than coal. Switching to clean energy is no longer a cost—it is a saving.
That is why climate action today is driven not by diplomacy, but by economics. The question is no longer if countries will go green, but who will own the technologies and industries that make it possible.
Europe, long the moral voice of the climate agenda, now risks losing the industrial race. After years of blocking imports from developing countries on grounds of “inferior” green quality, it now complains that Chinese electric vehicles are too good— too cheap and too efficient. Europe cannot have it both ways. The world cannot build a green transition behind protectionist walls. The markets must open to the best technologies, wherever they are made.
President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva of Brazil understands this new reality. That is why he chose Belém, deep in the Amazon, as the site for climate talks. The location itself is a statement: the future of climate policy lies in protecting the rainforests and empowering the people who live within them.
Forests are not just carbon sinks; they are living economies. When I was Norway’s environment minister, we partnered with Brazil and Indonesia to reward them for reducing deforestation. Later, Guyana joined our effort—a small South American nation where nearly the entire population is of Indian or African origin.
Guyana has since turned conservation into currency. Under its jurisdictional REDD+ programme, the country now sells verified carbon credits through the global aviation market known as CORSIA. In the third quarter of this year, these credits traded at USD 22.55 per tonne of CO₂ equivalent, with around one million credits sold through a procurement event led by IATA and Mercuria.
The proceeds go directly to forest communities—building schools, improving digital access, and funding small enterprises. It is proof that the carbon market can deliver real value when tied to real lives. You cannot protect nature against the will of local people. You can only protect it with them. Last year in Guyana, I watched children play soccer and cricket beneath the jungle canopy—a glimpse of life thriving in harmony with the forest, not at its expense.
That, ultimately, is what Belém should represent: not another round of procedural debates, but a vision for linking markets, nature and livelihoods.
The Global South has also sidestepped one of the West’s greatest political failures: climate denial. In India, there is no major political party—or public figure, cricket star or Bollywood artist—questioning the reality of climate change. Leaders may differ on ideology, but not on this. Across Asia, from China to Indonesia, climate action unites rather than divides. Because here, ecology and economy move together.
Prime Minister Narendra Modi of India puts it simply: by going green, we also go prosperous. President Xi Jinping of China and President Lula of Brazil share that same message—a vision that draws people in, instead of lecturing them. It is this integration of growth and sustainability that explains why the Global South is moving faster than most of the developed world.
None of this means diplomacy is irrelevant. The UN still matters. But its institutions must evolve to reflect the realities of the 21st century. The Security Council, frozen in 1945, still excludes India and Africa from permanent membership. Without reform, multilateralism risks losing its meaning.
Yet, while negotiations stall, transformation continues. From solar parks in Gujarat to high-speed rail across China, from mangrove tourism in Tamil Nadu to carbon markets in Guyana—climate leadership is happening in real economies, not in press releases.
Belém will not deliver a grand agreement. But it doesn’t need to. The world is already moving—faster than our diplomats.
The story of Belem will not be written in communiqués, but in kilowatts, credits, and communities.
The real climate leaders are no longer in Washington or Brussels.
They are in Beijing, Delhi, São Paulo, and Georgetown.
The future of climate action is already here.
It just speaks with a southern accent.
The author is the former Executive Director of the United Nations Environment Programme and Norway’s Minister for Environment and International Development.
On a humid morning in August 2025, two small environmental groups in Panama — Centro de Incidencia Ambiental and Adopta Bosque Panamá — found out through social media that they were being sued for “slander” and “crimes against the national economy.” Their offence? Criticising a port project on the country’s Pacific coast.
A few days later, across the border in Costa Rica, two environmental content creators woke up to find their bank accounts frozen and salaries withheld. Their “crime” was posting videos about a tourism project they said was damaging Playa Panamá’s fragile coastline.
In both cases, the message was straightforward: speak out, and you’ll pay for it.
These are part of a growing global trend that is particularly ominous as climate activists, Indigenous defenders, and journalists push their demands upon the upcoming COP30 negotiations. The battle to protect the planet increasingly comes with an additional cost: defending yourself in court.
SLAPPs: Lawsuits Designed to Scare, Not Win
The acronym sounds almost trivial — SLAPP — but its impact is anything but. SLAPP stands for Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation, a term coined decades ago to describe legal actions intended not to win on merit but to intimidate, exhaust, and silence those who speak out on matters of public interest.
According to Transparency International, “SLAPPs are also known as frivolous lawsuits or gag lawsuits, as they silence journalists, activists, whistleblowers, NGOs and anyone who brings facts to light in the public interest.”
These are not just lawsuits; they are in fact strategy. They don’t need to win, they just need to drain your time, your money, and your hope.
The claimants are usually powerful, ranging from corporations, politicians, or investors.
In the Costa Rican case, the company linked to the Playa Panama tourism project did not even allege material harm. Yet the court imposed “precautionary embargoes,” blocking credit cards, freezing wages, even restricting property rights, punishing through the process.
In Panama, the developers of the Puerto Barú port project filed a criminal complaint against environmental NGOs who had challenged the project’s environmental impact assessment before the Supreme Court. Those challenges are still pending. Rather than waiting for the judiciary’s ruling, the company launched a separate legal attack, accusing those NGOs of harming the national economy.
Observers call it “judicial intimidation.” The case triggered several alerts across the EU SEE Early Warning Mechanism, warning of a “chilling effect on civic participation.”
‘Unfortunately, in Panama, judicial harassment of journalists and activists by politicians and businesspeople is already common practice because criminal law allows it. Reform is needed in relation to so-called crimes against honour and the grounds for seizure of assets. International organisations such as the Inter-American Press Association have warned about this,’ says Olga de Obaldía, executive director of Transparency International – Panama Chapter, a national member of the EU SEE network.
In Costa Rica, the embargoes imposed on content creators Juan Bautista Alfaro and Javier Adelfang sparked outrage. Within days, 72 organisations and more than 3,000 individuals — from academics to Indigenous leaders — signed an open letter condemning the action as “an assault on public interest advocacy.”
The backlash worked: members of the Frente Amplio Party introduced a bill to restrict the use of preventive embargoes in cases involving public interest speech.
But for those already targeted, the damage – emotional, financial and reputational – has already been done.
We do not just see SLAPPs deployed in Latin America. Examples of SLAPPs as a means of lawfare by the rich and powerful have been around for a long time across the globe.
In Thailand, Thammakaset sued several members of the NGO Fortify Rights and other activists for denouncing abusive working conditions. Still today content posted by communities or NGOs, or even comments under local government posts, are often picked up and turned into criminal defamation cases.
Despite the existence of anti-SLAPP provisions in the Criminal Procedure Code, experiences indicate that they are largely ineffective. The constant threat of facing litigation based on online content disrupts CSO work and chills free speech.
Climate Activism Under Pressure
As the world heads toward another global climate summit in Brazil – where journalist Amanda Miranda faces a SLAPP by government officials for uncovering corruption – we face a paradox: while governments make promises about protecting the environment, environmental defenders are being prosecuted for holding them accountable.
Brazil’s baseline snapshot on an enabling environment also highlights a related trend: environmental defenders are frequently framed as “anti-development,” a narrative used to delegitimise their work and undermine public support. SLAPPs reinforce this strategy. Beyond draining time and resources, these lawsuits inflict reputational harm, serving as tools in broader campaigns to discredit and silence critics.
According to research from the Business & Human Rights Resource Centre, the highest number of SLAPPs – almost half of them – took place in Latin America, followed by Asia and the Pacific (25%), Europe & Central Asia (18%), Africa (8.5%), and North America (9%). Nearly three-quarters of cases were brought in countries in the Global South and 63% of cases involved criminal charges. Furthermore, most individuals and groups facing SLAPPs raised concerns about projects in four sectors: mining, agriculture and livestock, logging and lumber, and finally palm oil.
In an International Center for Non-Profit law – ICNL – study on over 80 cases of SLAPPs across the Global South, out of them “91% were brought by private companies or company officials(…) 41% brought by mining companies and (…) 34% brought by companies associated with agriculture.”
According to data from the CASE Coalition, SLAPP cases have risen sharply in recent years: from 570 cases in 2022 to over 820 in 2023 in Europe alone. Around half of those targeted climate, land, and labor rights defenders. Fossil fuel and extractive industries remain the most frequent initiators.
It is important to remember that those numbers under-represent the extent of SLAPP use, they are based on reported legal cases and can’t include the many cases in which the mere threat of a lawsuit was enough to silence before filing a complaint
The Business & Human Rights Resource Centre has documented that companies linked to mining, tourism, and large infrastructure projects are increasingly using SLAPPs to paralyse critics ahead of international events like COP, when scrutiny intensifies.
The danger of SLAPPs lies in their quietness. They happen behind closed doors, in legal language, far from the marches and hashtags. The trials often do not even end up in lawsuits. Yet their effect is profound. Every frozen bank account, every unpaid legal fee, every public apology extracted under duress weakens the collective courage needed to hold power to account.
Across regions, SLAPPs follow the same playbook: identify outspoken defenders, sue them on vague charges like “defamation” or “economic harm”, drag the process out for years, win by exhausting, not convincing.
Of course, the specific tactics vary by legal context. In some countries, certain charges carry strategic advantages. For example, in the Philippines, authorities frequently rely on serious, non-bailable allegations — including charges like illegal possession of firearms — to keep activists detained for extended periods.
The Philippines remains the most dangerous country in Asia for land and environmental defenders with frequent attacks linked to mining, agribusiness, and water projects.
Authorities have also used fabricated firearms and explosives charges to target activists, journalists, and community leaders, often accompanied by asset freezes, surveillance, and prolonged detention. In these settings, SLAPPs can “weaponise” the criminal justice system itself to remove critics from public life entirely.
SLAPPs have become the invisible front of the climate struggle, a slow-motion suppression campaign that rarely makes headlines.
But implementation remains uncertain. The Vice-President of the European Commission, Vera Jourova, called the Directive “Daphne’s law,” in memory of the Maltese journalist Daphne Caruana Galizia, who was killed in 2017 while she was the victim of numerous legal proceedings against her, and whose tragic story helped raise awareness of the issue.
Beyond the European context, similar efforts to counter SLAPPs have emerged elsewhere, for example in Colombia with the Guerra v. Ruiz-Navarro case. This case illustrates the importance of investigating sexual violence and abuse of power, recognising it as a matter of public interest that warrants protection. This ruling sets a strong precedent against the misuse of courts to silence the press by influential figures and underscores that defending victims and informing the public are acts of defending human rights.
In Indonesia, another country where SLAPPs are being deployed, civil society groups continue to advocate for stronger legal protections, including legislation to protect from SLAPPs. A small step forward came in September 2024, when the Ministry of Environment and Forestry issued Regulation No. 10/2024, on legal protection for environmental defenders.
“While the Ministry of Environment and Forestry Regulation No. 10/2024 represents an initial step toward safeguarding environmental defenders, civil society organisations expect its effective implementation, coupled with broader anti-SLAPP legislation, to ensure comprehensive protection against retaliatory lawsuits and foster a secure environment for public participation in environmental governance,” says Intan Kusumaning Tiyas of INFID, national civil society platform in Indonesia.
These include stronger legal safeguards by enacting robust national anti-SLAPP laws that allow for early case dismissal, ensure defendants can recover legal costs, and penalise those who file abusive lawsuits.
Setting up solidarity and support through regional and global networks can quickly mobilise legal assistance, mental health support, and emergency funding for those targeted.
Finally, actions around visibility and accountability are needed to bring SLAPPs into the public eye and raise awareness. SLAPPs need to be framed not as ordinary legal conflicts, but as violations of human rights that weaken an enabling environment for civil society, democratic participation and obstruct climate justice.
At COP30, negotiators will debate carbon credits and transition funds. But the real test of climate commitment may lie in whether states protect the people defending rivers, forests, and coastlines from powerful interests.
Civil society hopes to push a bold message into COP30 discussions: defending the environment requires defending those who defend it and supporting an enabling environment for civil society.
This article was written with the support of the Forus team, particularly Lena Muhs, and members of the EU SEE network.
Secretary General of CIVICUS, Mandeep Tiwana, at International Civil Society Week 2025. Credit: Civicus
BANGKOK, Nov 1 2025 (IPS) – It is a bleak global moment—with civil society actors battling assassinations, imprisonment, fabricated charges, and funding cuts to pro-democracy movements in a world gripped by inequality, climate chaos, and rising authoritarianism. Yet, the mood at Bangkok’s Thammasat University was anything but defeated.
Once the site of the 1976 massacre, where pro-democracy students were brutally crushed, the campus—a “hallowed ground” for civil society actors—echoed with renewed voices calling for defending democracy in what Secretary General of CIVICUS, Mandeep Tiwana, described as a “topsy-turvy world” with rising authoritarianism—a poignant reminder that even in places scarred by repression, the struggle for civic space endures.
“Let it resonate,” said Ichal Supriadi, Secretary General, Asian Democracy Network. “Democracy must be defended together,” adding that it was the “shared strength” that confronts authoritarianism.
Citing alarming figures, he spoke bluntly of the global imbalance in priorities—noting how military expenditure continues to soar even as civic space shrinks. He pointedly referred to the United States’ Ministry of Defense as the “Ministry of War,” comparing its USD 968 billion military budget with China’s USD 3 billion and noting that spending on the war in Ukraine had increased tenfold in just three years—a stark illustration of global priorities. “This is where we are with respect to peace and war,” he said gloomily.
Ichal Supriadi, Secretary General, Asian Democracy Network. Credit: Civicus
At another session, similar reflections set the tone for a broader critique of global power dynamics. Walden Bello, a former senator and peace activist from the Philippines, argued that the United States—especially under the Trump administration—had abandoned even the pretense of a free-market system, replacing it with what he called “overt monopolistic hegemony.” American imperialism, he said, “graduated away from camouflage attempts and is now unapologetic in demanding that the world bend to its wishes.”
Dr. Gothom Arya of the Asian Cultural Forum on Development and the Peace and Culture Foundation. Credit: Civicus
Dr. Pervez Hoodbhoy, a Pakistani physicist and author, echoed the sentiment, expressing outrage at his own country’s leadership. He condemned Pakistan’s decision to nominate a “psychopath, habitual liar, and aggressive warmonger” for the Nobel Peace Prize, saying that the leadership had “no right to barter away minerals and rare earth materials to an American dictator” without public consent.
Hoodbhoy urged the international community to intervene and restart peace talks between Pakistan and India—two nuclear-armed neighbors perpetually teetering on the edge of renewed conflict.
But at no point during the day did the focus shift away from the ongoing humanitarian crises. Arya reminded the audience of the tragic loss of civilian lives in Gaza, the devastating fighting in Sudan that had led to widespread malnutrition, and the global inequality worsened by climate inaction. “Because some big countries refused to follow the Paris Agreement ten years ago,” he warned, “the rest of the world will suffer the consequences.”
That grim reality was brought into even sharper relief by Dr. Mustafa Barghouthi, a Palestinian physician and politician, who delivered a harrowing account of Gaza’s devastation. He said that through the use of American-supplied weapons, Israel had killed an estimated 12 percent of Gaza’s population, destroyed every hospital and university, and left nearly 10,000 bodies buried beneath the rubble.
“Even as these crises unfolded across the world, the conference demonstrated that civil society continues to persevere, as nearly 1,000 people from more than 75 organizations overcame travel bans and visa hurdles to gather at Thammasat University, sharing strategies, solidarity, and hope through over 120 sessions.
Among them was a delegation whose presence carried the weight of an entire nation’s silenced hopes—Hamrah, believed to be the only Afghan civil society group at ICSW.
“Our participation is important at a time when much of the world has turned its gaze away from Afghanistan,” Timor Sharan, co-founder and programme director of the HAMRAH Initiative, told IPS.
“It is vital to remind the global community that Afghan civil society has not disappeared; it’s fighting and holding the line.”
Through networks like HAMRAH, he said, activists, educators, and defenders have continued secret and online schools, documented abuses, and amplified those silenced under the Taliban rule. “Our presence here is both a statement of resilience and a call for solidarity.”
“Visibility matters,” pointed out Riska Carolina, an Indonesian woman and LGBTIQ+ rights advocate working with ASEAN SOGIE Caucus (ASC). “What’s even more powerful is being visible together.”
“It was special because it brought together movements—Dalit, Indigenous, feminist, disability, and queer—that rarely share the same space, creating room for intersectional democracy to take shape,” said Carolina, whose work focuses on regional advocacy for LGBTQIA+ rights within Southeast Asia’s political and human rights frameworks, especially the ASEAN system, which she said has historically been “slow to recognize issues of sexuality and gender diversity.”
“We work to make sure that SOGIESC (Sexual Orientation, Gender Identity and Expression, and Sex Characteristics) inclusion is not just seen as a niche issue, but as a core part of democracy, governance, and human rights. That means engaging governments, civil society, and regional bodies to ensure queer people’s participation, safety, and dignity is part of how we measure democratic progress.”
She said the ICSW provided ASC with a chance to make “visible” the connection between civic space, democracy, and queer liberation and to remind people that democracy is not only about elections but also about “who is able to live freely and who remains silenced by law or stigma.”
Away from the main sessions, civil society leaders gathered for a candid huddle—part reflection, part reckoning—to examine their role in an era when their space to act was shrinking.
“The dialogue surfaced some tough but necessary questions,” he said. They asked themselves: ‘Have we grasped the full scale of the challenges we face?’ ‘Are our responses strong enough?’ ‘Are we expecting anti-rights forces to respect our rules and values?’ ‘Are we reacting instead of setting the agenda? And are we allies—or accomplices—of those risking everything for justice?’
But if there was one thing crystal clear to everyone present, it was that civil society must stand united, not fragmented, to defend democracy.
The community gets together to repair a school in the city of Saraqib, located south of Idlib, that was destroyed by bombing during the Assad regime. Credit: Sonia Al Ali/IPS
IDLIB, Syria, Oct 16 2025 (IPS) – The war has deprived thousands of Syrian children of their right to education, especially displaced children in makeshift camps. Amidst difficult economic conditions and the inability of many families to afford educational costs, the future of these children is under threat.
Adel Al-Abbas, a 13-year-old boy from Aleppo, northern Syria, was forced to quit his education after being displaced from his city and moving to a camp on the Syrian-Turkish border. He says, “I was chasing my dream like any other child, but my family’s poverty and the harsh circumstances stood in my way and destroyed all my dreams.”
Adel had hoped to become an engineer, but he left school and gave up on his goal. He replaced books and pens with work tools to help his impoverished family secure life’s necessities. He adds, “We are living in extremely difficult conditions today; we can’t even afford food. So, I have to find a job to survive and help my family, especially after my father was hit by shrapnel in the head, which caused him a permanent disability.”
Adel’s mother is saddened by her son’s situation, saying to IPS, “We need the income my son brings in after my husband got sick and became unable to provide for our family. In any case, work is better than an education that is now useless after he’s been out of school for so long and has fallen behind his peers.”
Reem Al-Diri, an 11-year-old, left school after her family was displaced from rural Damascus to the city of Idlib in northern Syria. Explaining why, she speaks with a clear sense of regret: “I loved school very much and was one of the top students in my class, but my family decided I had to stop my education to help my mom with the housework.”
The young girl confirms that she watches children on their way to school every morning, and she wishes she could go with them to complete her education and become a teacher in the future.
Reem’s mother, Umayya Al-Khalid, justifies her daughter’s absence from school, saying, “After we moved to a camp on the outskirts of Idlib, the schools became far from where we live. We also suffer from a lack of security and the widespread kidnapping of girls. So, I feared for my daughter and preferred for her to stay at home.”
Causes of school dropout
Akram Al-Hussein, a school principal in Idlib, northern Syria, speaks about the school dropout crisis in the country.
“School dropouts are one of the most serious challenges facing society. The absence of education leads to an unknown future for children and for the entire community.”
Al-Hussein emphasizes that relevant authorities and the international community must exert greater efforts to support education and ensure it does not remain a distant dream for children who face poverty and displacement.
He adds, “The reasons and motivations for children dropping out of school vary, ranging from conditions imposed by war—such as killings, displacement, and forced conscription-to child labor and poverty. Other factors include frequent displacement and the child’s inability to settle in one place during the school year, as well as a general lack of parental interest in education and their ignorance of the risks of depriving a child of schooling.”
In this context, the Syria Response Coordinators team, a specialized statistics group in Syria, noted in a statement that the number of out-of-school children in Syria has reached more than 2.5 million, with northwestern Syria alone accounting for over 318,000 out-of-school children, with more than 78,000 of them living in displacement camps. Of this group, 85 percent are engaged in various occupations, including dangerous ones.
In a report dated June 12, 2024, the team identified the key reasons behind the widening school dropout crisis.
A shortage of schools relative to the population density, a shift towards private education, difficult economic conditions, a lack of local government laws to prevent children from entering the labor market, displacement and forced migration, and a marginalized education sector with insufficient support from both local and international humanitarian organizations are seen as the causes.
The team’s report warned that if this trend continues, it will lead to the emergence of an uneducated, illiterate generation. This generation will be consumers rather than producers, and as a result, these uneducated children will become a burden on society.
Initiatives to Restore Destroyed Schools
The destruction of schools in Syria has significantly contributed to the school dropout crisis. Throughout the years of war, schools were not spared from destruction, looting, and vandalism, leaving millions of children without a place to learn or in buildings unfit for education. However, with the downfall of the Assad regime, several initiatives have been launched to restore these schools. This is seen as an urgent and immediate necessity for building a new Syria.
Samah Al-Dioub, a school principal in the northern Syrian city of Maarat al-Nu’man, says, “Syria’s schools suffered extensive damage from both the earthquake and the bombings. We have collected funds from the city’s residents and are now working on rehabilitating the school, but the need is still immense and the costs are very high, especially with residents returning to the city.” She explained that their current focus is on surveying schools and prioritizing which ones need renovation the most.
Engineer Mohammad Hannoun, director of school buildings at the Syrian Ministry of Education, states that approximately 7,400 schools across Syria were either partially or completely destroyed. They have restored 156 schools so far.
Hannoun adds, “We are working to rehabilitate schools in all Syrian regions, aiming to equip at least one school in every village or city to welcome returning students. The Ministry of Education, along with local and international organizations and civil society, are all contributing to these restoration efforts.”
Hannoun points out that the extensive damage to school buildings harms both teachers and students. It leads to a lack of basic educational resources, puts pressure on the few schools that are still functional, and causes a large number of students to drop out, which ultimately impacts the quality of the educational process.
As part of their contingency plans, Hannoun explains that the ministry, in collaboration with partner organizations, intends to activate schools with the available resources to accommodate children returning from camps and from asylum countries. This effort is particularly focused on affected areas that have experienced massive waves of displacement.
The United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) said in 2025, 16.7 million people, including 7.5 million children, are in need of humanitarian support in the country, with 2.45 million children out of school, and 2 million children are at risk of malnutrition.
The phenomenon of school dropouts has become a crisis threatening Syria’s children, who have been forced by circumstances to work to earn a living for their families. Instead of being in a classroom to build their futures, children are struggling to survive in an environment left behind by conflict and displacement.
