‘Freedom Always Returns – but Only If We Hold Fast to Our Values and Sustain the Struggle’

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Jan 23 2026 (IPS) –  
CIVICUS speaks with Belarusian activist, blogger and journalist Mikola Dziadok about his experiences as a two-time political prisoner and the repression of dissent in Belarus. Mikola was jailed following mass protests in 2020.


CIVICUS speaks with Belarusian activist, blogger and journalist Mikola Dziadok about his experiences as a two-time political prisoner and the repression of dissent in Belarus

Mikola Dziadok

Amid continued repression, Belarus experienced two limited waves of political prisoner releases in 2025. In September, authorities freed around 50 detainees following diplomatic engagement, and in December they pardoned and released over 120, including Nobel laureate Ales Bialiatski and opposition figure Maria Kolesnikova. Many were forced into exile. Human rights groups stress that releases appear driven by geopolitical bargaining rather than systemic reform, with over 1,200 political prisoners believed to remain behind bars.

Why were you arrested following protests in 2020?

I was arrested because I was not silent and I was visible. During the 2020 uprising, I ran Telegram and YouTube channels where I shared political analysis, explained what was happening and gave people advice on how to resist repression. I talked about strategies to protect ourselves, counter state violence and survive under authoritarian pressure. The regime viewed this as extremely threatening.

By that time, I had around 17 years of experience in the anarchist movement, which is a part of a broader democratic movement in Belarus. But most people who joined the protests weren’t political at all: they’d never protested before, never faced repression, never dealt with police violence. They were desperate for guidance, particularly as there was an information war between regime propaganda, pro-Kremlin narratives and independent voices.

Authorities made a clear distinction between ‘ordinary people’ who apologised and promised never to protest again, who were released, and activists, organisers and others who spoke publicly, who were treated as enemies. I was imprisoned because I belonged to the second category.

What sparked the 2020 uprising?

By 2020, Belarus had already lived through five fraudulent elections. We only had one election the international community recognised as legitimate, held in 1994. After that, President Alexander Lukashenko changed the constitution so he could rule indefinitely.

For many years, people believed there was nothing they could do to make change happen. But in 2020, several things came together. The COVID-19 pandemic left the state’s complete failure exposed. As authorities did nothing to protect people, civil society stepped in. Grassroots initiatives provided information and medical help. People suddenly saw they could do what the state couldn’t. From the regime’s perspective, this was a very dangerous realisation.

But what truly ignited mass mobilisation was violence. In the first two days after the 9 August presidential election, over 7,000 protesters were detained. Thousands were beaten, humiliated, sexually abused and tortured. When they were released and showed their injuries, the images spread through social media and Telegram, and people were shocked. This brought hundreds of thousands onto the streets, protesting against both election fraud and violence against protesters.

What’s the situation of political prisoners?

Since 2020, over 50,000 people have spent time in detention, in a country of only nine million. There have been almost 4,000 officially recognised political prisoners, and there are now around 1,200, although the real number is higher. Many prisoners ask not to be named publicly because they fear retaliation against themselves or their families.

Repression has never subsided. Civil society organisations, human rights groups and independent media have been destroyed or forced into exile. Belarussians live under constant pressure, not a temporary crackdown.

Political prisoners are treated much worse than regular prisoners. I spent 10 years as a political prisoner: five years between 2010 and 2015, and another five years after 2020. During my second sentence, I spent two and a half years in solitary confinement. This is deliberate torture designed to break people physically and psychologically.

How did your release happen?

My release was a political transaction. Lukashenko has always used political prisoners as bargaining chips. He arrests people, waits for international pressure to reach its peak and then offers releases in exchange for concessions. This time, international negotiations, unexpectedly involving the USA, triggered a limited release.

The process itself was terrifying. I was taken suddenly from prison, handcuffed, hooded and transferred to the KGB prison in the centre of Minsk. I was placed in an isolation cell and not told what would happen. It was only when I saw other well-known political prisoners being brought into the same space that I realised we were going to be freed, most likely by forced expulsion.

No formal conditions were announced, but our passports were confiscated and we were forced into exile. We were transported under armed guard and handed over at the Lithuanian border. Many deportees still fear for relatives who remain in the country, because repression often continues through family members. That’s why I asked my wife to leave Belarus as quickly as possible.

What should the international community and civil society do now?

First, they should make sure Belarus continues receiving international attention. Lukashenko is afraid of isolation, sanctions and scrutiny. Any attempt to normalise relations with Belarus without real change will only strengthen repression and put remaining prisoners at greater risk.

Second, they should financially support independent Belarusian human rights organisations and media. Many are struggling to survive, particularly after recent funding cuts. Without them doing their job, abuses will remain hidden and prisoners will be forgotten.

Most importantly, activists should not lose hope. We are making history. Dictatorships fall and fear eventually breaks. Freedom always returns – but only if we hold fast to our values and sustain the struggle.

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SEE ALSO
‘Belarus is closer than ever to totalitarianism, with closed civic space and repression a part of daily life’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Human Rights House 14.Oct.2025
Belarus: ‘The work of human rights defenders in exile is crucial in keeping the democratic movement alive’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Natallia Satsunkevich 15.Feb.2025
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Guinea’s Path to Electoral Autocracy

Active Citizens, Africa, Civil Society, Crime & Justice, Democracy, Featured, Headlines, Human Rights, Press Freedom, TerraViva United Nations

Opinion

Credit: Luc Gnago/Reuters via Gallo Images

MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay, Jan 20 2026 (IPS) – In December, the dust settled on Guinea’s first presidential election since the military took control in a 2021 coup. General Mamady Doumbouya stayed in power after receiving 87 per cent of the vote. But the outcome was never in doubt: this was no a democratic milestone; it was the culmination of Guinea’s denied transition to civilian rule.


Doumbouya has successfully performed an act of political alchemy, turning a military autocracy into an electoral one. By systematically dismantling the opposition, silencing the press and rewriting laws to suit his ambitions, he has made sure to shield his grip on power with a thin veil of electoral legitimacy.

The architecture of autocracy

The path to this moment was paved with precision. In April 2025, Doumbouya announced a constitutional referendum, a move that may have looked like it would herald the beginning of the end of military rule. But it was something else entirely. By June, Doumbouya had further centralised control by creating a new General Directorate of Elections. This body, placed firmly under the thumb of the Ministry of Territorial Administration, reversed previous efforts to establish an independent electoral institution.

The constitution was drafted in the shadows by the National Council of the Transition, the junta-appointed legislative body. While early drafts reportedly contained safeguards against lifetime presidencies, these were stripped away before the final text reached the public. The result was a document that removed a ban on junta members running for office, extended presidential terms from five to seven years and granted the president the power to appoint a third of the newly created Senate.

When the referendum was held on 21 September, it rubber-stamped de facto rule. Official figures claimed 89 per cent support with an 86 per cent turnout, numbers that defied the reality of a widespread opposition boycott and a palpable lack of public enthusiasm.

A climate of fear

With a blanket ban on protests in effect since May 2022, those who’ve dared challenge the junta’s controlled transition have been met with security force violence. On 6 January 2025, security forces killed at least three people, including two children, during demonstrations called by the opposition coalition Forces Vives de Guinée.

The political landscape was further cleared through administrative and judicial means. In October 2024, the government dissolved over 50 political parties. By August 2025, major opposition groups such as the Rally of the People of Guinea had been suspended. Key challengers, including former Prime Minister Cellou Dalein Diallo, remain in exile, while others, among them Aliou Bah, have been sentenced to prison – in Bah’s case, for allegedly insulting Doumbouya.

The atmosphere of fear has been reinforced by a brutal crackdown on the media. Guinea plummeted 25 places in the 2025 World Press Freedom Index, the year’s largest fall. Independent outlets have had their licences revoked and journalists have been detained. Those still working have learned to practise strict self-censorship to avoid becoming the next target. This meant that as voters went to the polls, there was nobody to provide diverse perspectives, scrutinise the process, investigate irregularities or hold authorities accountable.

Coup contagion

Guinea is no outlier. Since 2020, a coup contagion has swept through Africa, with military takeovers in Burkina Faso, Chad, Gabon, Guinea-Bissau, Madagascar, Mali, Niger and Sudan. In each instance, the script has been similar: military leaders seize power promising to ‘correct’ the failures of the previous regime, only to break their promises of a return to civilian rule.

Guinea is now the third country among this recent wave to move from a military dictatorship to an electoral autocracy. It follows in the footsteps of Chad, where Mahamat Idriss Déby secured victory in May 2024 after the suspicious killing of his main opponent, and Gabon, where General Brice Oligui Nguema won a 2025 election with a reported 90 per cent of the vote.

The international community does little. Doumbouya routinely ignored deadlines and sanctions from the Economic Community of West African States, which once prided itself on a ‘zero-tolerance’ policy for coups, and no consequences ensued. The African Union and the United Nations offered rhetorical concern, but their warnings were not accompanied by tangible diplomatic or economic repercussions.

The world’s willingness to maintain business as usual while Doumbouya steered through a fake transition sends a dangerous message to other aspiring autocrats, in the region and beyond.

Democracy denied

When Doumbouya seized power in 2021, he was greeted with a degree of cautious optimism. His predecessor, Alpha Condé, had controversially amended the constitution to secure a third term amid violent protests and corruption and fraud allegations. Doumbouya promised to fix things, but instead became a mirror image of the man he ousted, using the same tactics of constitutional revision and repression to secure his power.

The statistics of the December election – an 87 per cent victory on a claimed 80 per cent turnout – do not reflect a genuine mandate but rather a vacuum: with no independent media to scrutinise the process and no viable opposition allowed to run, the election was a technicality.

The prospects for real democracy in Guinea appear remote. Doumbouya has secured a seven-year mandate through an election that eliminated the essential infrastructure needed for democracy. In the absence of stronger international pressure and tangible support for Guinean civil society, Guinea faces prolonged authoritarian rule behind a democratic facade, with dismal human rights prospects.

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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Bombing and Ballots, Myanmar’s Contentious Election

Armed Conflicts, Asia-Pacific, Civil Society, Crime & Justice, Democracy, Editors’ Choice, Featured, Freedom of Expression, Headlines, Human Rights, Press Freedom, TerraViva United Nations

Human Rights

A man walks past a campaign poster for the military’s proxy party USDP ahead of strictly controlled elections in Myanmar. Credit: Guy Dinmore/IPS

A man walks past a campaign poster for the military’s proxy party USDP ahead of strictly controlled elections in Myanmar. Credit: Guy Dinmore/IPS

YANGON, Myanmar and BANGKOK , Jan 6 2026 (IPS) – With thousands of civilians killed in years of civil war and over 22,000 political prisoners still behind bars, no one was surprised that early results from Myanmar’s first but tightly controlled elections since the 2021 coup show the military’s proxy party speeding to victory.


“How can you hold elections and bomb civilians at the same time?” asked Khin Ohmar, a civil rights activist outside Myanmar who is monitoring what the resistance forces and a shadow government reject as “sham” polls.

The junta had already cleared the path towards its stated goal of a “genuine, disciplined multi-party democratic system” by dissolving some 40 parties that refused to register for polls, which they regard as illegitimate, with their leaders and supporters still in prison.

These include the National League for Democracy (NLD) and its leader, Aung San Suu Kyi, who won a landslide second term  in the 2020 elections – only for the results to be annulled by Senior General Min Aung Hlaing, a coup leader and self-appointed acting president. Mass street protests were crushed in early 2021 and war spread across Myanmar.

Although these elections will deliver just a façade of the legitimacy craved by some of the generals, they did succeed in projecting a power and authority that was quickly slipping away just two years ago as long-standing ethnic armed groups and newly formed People’s Defence Forces (PDFs) inflicted a series of humiliating defeats on the junta.

“The tide has turned in favour of the military,” commented a veteran Myanmar analyst in Yangon, crediting China, which reined in the ethnic groups on its shared border, fully embraced Min Aung Hlaing and, along with Russia, delivered the arms, technology and training needed to peg back the resistance.

Campaigners for the pro-military USDP canvas residents and check voters lists in Yangon ahead of the December 28 parliamentary election that excluded major anti-junta parties. Credit: Guy Dinmore/IPS

Campaigners for the pro-military USDP canvas residents and check voters lists in Yangon ahead of the December 28 parliamentary election that excluded major anti-junta parties. Credit: Guy Dinmore/IPS

The regime’s air power and newly acquired drones have been deployed to ruthless effect, often hitting civilian targets in relatively remote areas where the resistance has grassroots support. Air strikes were stepped up as the elections approached. Major cities like Yangon were calm; people subdued.

Bombs dropped on Tabayin township in the Sagaing Region on December 5 killed 18 people, including many in a busy tea shop, AFP reported. On December 10, air strikes on a hospital in the ancient capital of Mrauk-U in Rakhine State were reported to have killed 10 patients and 23 others. The regime accused the insurgent Arakan Army and PDFs of using it as a base.

“I don’t think that anyone believes that those elections will be free and fair,” UN Secretary General Antonio Guterres stated while visiting the region ahead of the polls. He called on the junta to end its “deplorable” violence and find “a credible path” back to civilian rule.

In contrast, the Trump administration declared in November that the junta’s election plans were “free and fair” and removed Temporary Protected Status from Myanmar refugees in the US, saying their country was safe for them to return to.

“I’ll be jailed if I don’t vote,” said Min, a Yangon taxi driver, only half-joking on the eve of voting in Yangon, the commercial capital. “And what difference does it make? We are ruled by China and Xi Jinping, not Min Aung Hlaing,” he added.

With the polls spread over three stages, the first 102 townships voted on December 28. Others will follow on January 11 and January 25 to make a total of 265 of Myanmar’s 330 townships scheduled to vote for the bicameral national parliament and assemblies in the 14 regions and states.

Residents in downtown Yangon check their names on the electoral register and then cast their votes in a polling station on December 28. Credit: Guy Dinmore/IPS

Residents in downtown Yangon check their names on the electoral register and then cast their votes in a polling station on December 28. Credit: Guy Dinmore/IPS

No voting is to be held at all in the remaining 65 townships that the election commission deemed too unsafe.

Voting in the first round in Yangon, an urban and semi-rural sprawl of seven million people, proceeded calmly and slowly on a quiet Sunday – despite intense efforts, and sometimes threats, by the regime to boost the turnout.

In 2020 and 2015 – when Myanmar arguably held the region’s most open and fair elections and the military’s proxy Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP), was soundly defeated – people gaily posted images of their ink-stained little fingers on social media as evidence of their vote after weeks of packed rallies and vibrant campaign rallies.

But not this time. Social media posts hurled insults, some comic and vulgar, at the regime. Those eager to support the resistance’s boycott but who were afraid of reprisals were relieved if they found their names had been omitted by mistake on electoral lists. Electronic voting machines in use for the first time made it impossible to leave a blank.

But as in past elections, a solid core of people close to the military and its web of powerful economic interests turned out to vote for the USDP.

“We are choosing our government,” declared one man exiting a polling station in central Yangon with his family, apparently USDP supporters. One proudly waved his little finger dipped in indelible ink.

How can you hold elections and bomb civilians at the same time? – Khin Ohmar, civil rights activist

Turnout for the first round was put by regime officials at 52 percent. This compares with about 70 percent in the past two elections. China’s special envoy – sent as an official observer, along with others from Russia, Belarus, Vietnam and Cambodia – praised the elections.

On January 2, the election commission unexpectedly issued partial results: the USDP, led by retired generals, had won 38 of 40 seats in the lower house where votes had been tallied to date. No one blinked.

The USDP campaign message focused on two main elements – get out and vote with all your family, and back a USDP government to restore stability and progress to Myanmar.

Its underlying message was a reminder that the last USDP administration, led by President Thein Sein introduced socio-economic and political reforms and ceasefire negotiations with ethnic groups after securing a large majority in the 2010 elections when the NLD and other opposition groups were also absent.

Aung San Suu Kyi, then under house arrest, was released just after the 2010 polls and went on to contest and win a seat in a 2012 by-election ahead of the NLD’s own sweeping victory in 2015. Aung San Suu Kyi governed in a difficult power-sharing arrangement with the military for the next five years and was thrown back into prison in the coup.

For now a large proportion of Myanmar’s population lives in areas under junta control, including all 14 of the state and regional capitals, swollen by an influx of people fleeing conflict.  The military also holds major seaports and airports and – to varying degrees – the main border crossings for China and Thailand.

But in terms of territory, over half of Myanmar is in the hands of disparate ethnic armed groups and resistance forces. Alliances are fluid and negotiable.

The shadow National Unity Government is trying to establish its own authority over liberated territory, looking to cement a consensus around the concept of a democratic and federal Myanmar free of the military’s interference – something that has eluded the country since independence from British colonial rule in 1948.

Front lines shift back and forth as the military struggles to regain control over the Bamar heartlands of central Myanmar, once considered their bastion, while stretched elsewhere after losing vast tracts of border areas since the coup. Several million people have fled the country or are internally displaced.

Once again there is some speculation that a “smooth” election and the formation of a USDP government in April will lead to a gesture signalling the military’s confidence, such as a possible ending of forced conscription and the release of some political prisoners. Project power, then collect legitimacy.

“Political prisoners are used as bait,” said Khin Ohmar, the civil rights activist in Bangkok. “The world would at least have to applaud.”

IPS UN Bureau Report

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Myanmar’s Sham Election: Trump Legitimises Murderous Military Dictatorship

Active Citizens, Armed Conflicts, Asia-Pacific, Civil Society, Crime & Justice, Democracy, Featured, Headlines, Human Rights, Migration & Refugees, Press Freedom, TerraViva United Nations

Opinion

Credit: Issei Kato/Reuters via Gallo Images

MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay, Dec 22 2025 (IPS) – Myanmar is heading for an election, beginning on 28 December, that’s ostensibly an exercise in democracy – but it has clearly been designed with the aim of conferring more legitimacy on its military junta.


Almost five years after its February 2021 coup, the regime continues to fight pro-democracy forces and ethnic armed organisations, barely controlling a fifth of Myanmar’s territory. The junta has acknowledged that voting won’t be possible in much of the country.

The upcoming election fails every test of democratic legitimacy. The main democratic parties — the National League for Democracy and the Shan Nationalities League for Democracy — are banned. What remains is the Union Solidarity and Development Party, the military’s puppet party, plus minor groups that won no seats in the democratic election held in 2020. Independent media outlets have been crushed, journalists are arrested and intimidated daily and internet access is heavily restricted. In areas that resist military rule, civilians face escalating violence and arbitrary detention.

This election is designed not to reflect the popular will but to entrench military power. It comes as the regime continues its systematic campaign of violence against civilians: weeks before the junta announced the vote, Myanmar’s air force bombed a school in Oe Htein Kwin village, killing two teachers and 22 children, the youngest only seven years old.

The Assistance Association for Political Prisoners has confirmed 6,231 civilians have been killed by the military since the coup, though true figures could be much higher. Nearly half of all civilian deaths are estimated to have been caused by airstrikes. These are not indiscriminate military operations where civilians are collateral damage; they are deliberate attacks where civilians are the targets. The majority of locations of airstrikes have been sites with protected status under international law: camps for displaced people, churches, clinics and schools, often with no presence of armed groups nearby.

The junta has some powerful international allies. China backs it with billions in aid and advanced weapons. Russia supplies the fighter jets that drop bombs on civilians. India quietly sells arms. The three have long provided diplomatic cover and shielded the junta from international accountability. Meanwhile, the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) continues pursuing its failed Five-Point Consensus agreed with the regime in April 2021, despite its systematic violation of every commitment. Regional powers have negotiated exclusively with the junta without input from the National Unity Government — the government in exile formed by democratically elected lawmakers — effectively treating the military regime as Myanmar’s legitimate rulers.

Now recent decisions by the Trump administration threaten to tip the balance decisively in favour of legitimising military rule. Trump has lifted sanctions, cut independent media funding and eliminated the protections formerly afforded to Myanmar’s refugees in the USA. Consistent with his transactional approach, he’s choosing access to rare earth minerals over democracy.

The concern now is that ASEAN member states may follow suit, using the sham election as justification to normalise relations with the military regime. Some have already started moving in this direction, with the junta leader invited to regional meetings.

Myanmar’s pro-democracy forces continue to resist despite the shifting international context. The People’s Defence Forces and ethnic armed groups maintain coordinated operations across most of the country. Civil society continues documenting violations, providing aid to displaced people and advocating for international action. They deserve better than to watch the world legitimise their oppressors.

The junta’s control on the ground remains tenuous, but its diplomatic position is strengthening. Whether this consolidation continues depends on how the world responds to the election. The international community must be clear that treating the election as legitimate would signal to authoritarians everywhere that democratic institutions can be overthrown with impunity, war crimes carry no real consequences and regimes that bomb schools and imprison elected leaders can secure international acceptance.

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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The Silent War Before COP30: How Corporations Are Weaponising the Law to Muzzle Climate Defenders

Active Citizens, Civil Society, Climate Action, Climate Change, Climate Change Justice, Conferences, COP30, Crime & Justice, Development & Aid, Economy & Trade, Energy, Environment, Freedom of Expression, Global, Headlines, Indigenous Rights, Latin America & the Caribbean, Press Freedom, TerraViva United Nations

Opinion

Family agriculture and land defenders in Colombia. Credit: Both Nomads/Forus

BELÉM, Brazil, Nov 10 2025 (IPS) – As the world prepares for the next COP30 summit, a quieter battle is raging in courtrooms. Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation (SLAPPs) are the fossil-fuel industry’s new favourite weapon, turning justice systems into instruments of intimidation.


“Speak out, and you’ll pay for it”

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.

Political repression persists and civil society groups continue to face “red-tagging” and SLAPPs, further enabled by the passage of the Anti-Terrorism Act, the Anti-Money Laundering Act of 2001, and the Terrorism Financing Prevention and Suppression Act of 2012.

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.

Tactics to Fight Back

In early 2024, the European Union adopted its first-ever Anti-SLAPP Directive, a milestone achievement after years of campaigning by journalists and civil society. It sets out minimum standards to prevent abusive lawsuits and protect public participation.

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.

Civil society groups are calling for action on immediate priorities.

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.

IPS UN Bureau

 

Defending Democracy in a “Topsy-Turvy” World

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Secretary General of CIVICUS, Mandeep Tiwana, at International Civil Society Week 2025. Credit: Civicus

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.

Despite the hopeful spirit at Thammasat University, where the International Civil Society Week (ICSW) is underway, the conversations often turned to sobering realities. Dr. Gothom Arya of the Asian Cultural Forum on Development and the Peace and Culture Foundation reminded participants that civic freedoms are being curtailed across much of the world.

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

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. 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.

IPS UN Bureau Report

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